“Yes, sir,” said Toby cheerfully. “It was the first game of the term. New-comers sides.” “Then, perhaps, you will tell me,” said the new Head somewhat hotly, “the name of the presumably senior boy—a fellow in a tasselled cap anyway—whose whole object was to get in people’s way and interfere in the game as much as possible, and who did it, moreover, purely to vent his spite against the very boy who was before me this morning?” “You mean Rouse,” said Toby. “He’s captain of foot——” The Head rose up and made a fiery gesture. “I knew it,” said he. “I knew it. They used to say at Wilton that my sense of instinct was uncanny—they used to say that I always guessed right. I guessed right this afternoon. As soon as I saw that little boy being pursued about the grass I knew it was Rouse.... I knew the little fellow had been speaking the truth. Rouse, Mr Nicholson, was the name of the fellow who tore up his ticket on the journey from London.” He paused sensationally. “It may be,” said he, “that you were engrossed with your duties as referee this afternoon. Possibly you did not notice that feature of the game which was most evident to me. Throughout the twenty minutes that I was there the fellow Rouse was on the little boy’s track without respite. I personally saw him viciously cane the lad on the field, and a worse example of flagrant bullying has seldom come before my notice.” Toby cleared his throat and began to explain. “I don’t care one atom about custom,” said the Head, when he had listened thirty seconds. “I may be new to this school but I am not an idiot. Public School customs are in constant abuse—take this very example. You teach Rugby football with a switch. The first thing that I notice is that a senior boy, against whom evidence has already been laid, is deliberately using his switch to terrorise a little boy.” “Oh no,” said Toby, with a polite smile. “You’re——” The Head made another gesture. “Oh _yes_,” said he, with considerable force. “Surely I can use my own eyes!” Toby began again. “Don’t argue, Mr Nicholson,” said Dr Roe. “At Wilton I had the reputation of rarely showing my temper, but of showing it very thoroughly when it was roused. And it is roused now. Do you mean to tell me that this boy is actually captain of football?” “Yes,” said Toby mildly; “and a very good captain too. He’s one of the most popular boys in the school.” The Head was somewhat taken aback. “Well, at all events,” said he, “I don’t remember noticing him in the Sixth Form.” It was an awkward point. Toby moved slightly upon his feet. He was not going to confess that Rouse was one of the school’s pet dunces. “He’s not in the Sixth Form yet,” said he. The Head clapped his hands and sprang nimbly from one foot to the other. “Then,” said he, “how can he be _captain of football_ if he’s not even a _prefect_?”