“That isn’t the point,” he said. “I’m absolutely with you. I believe that without Rouse to lead the Fifteen we shan’t have a real good season. But we mustn’t make it too hard for the man who sooner or later may have to take it on. I’ve talked to the Head till I couldn’t talk any more. It made no shadow of difference at all. The Head will never give in. His mind’s made up, and although it’s true that we oughtn’t to give up Rouse, I shouldn’t be doing my duty if I didn’t make you see both sides of the picture. It’s for you to decide; I’m only just telling you how matters stand in case you forget.” He sat down wretchedly. Next moment Rouse turned to them again. He did not get up. There was something too urgent about the atmosphere for much formality. “It’s quite right,” said he. “You mustn’t muck up the season. I’ve resigned. That’s all there is to it. Go on. Don’t be boobs. I propose Nicholson. The Head can’t refuse him. He’s one of the top six in the school.” All heads turned slowly to regard Terence as if half in doubt and half in hope. Terence stiffened like a man electrocuted and shot to his feet. “No!” he shouted. “It’s all rot! Rouse has got to be captain. He was made for it. It’s no use going on proposing other people. We’ve elected Rouse.” There was an appreciative silence, then an animated discussion, and amidst it a young man rose from his seat and lifted his hand for silence. “There’s only one other old colour who’s in the Sixth,” said he. “Coles. So I’ll propose him.” He sat down as if he had done a piece of useful work by thoroughly clearing the decks for real debate. What followed, therefore, came as a very painful surprise to him. Others were merely disgusted. He was honestly hurt. To suppose that he had spoken seriously was the most insulting thought anyone could have had of him. Coles had arisen and could be seen looking earnestly upon them. His voice was unmistakably clear though he spoke quietly, and he made one modest gesture with his hand. He had not so much as waited to see the result of the proposal, had not given anyone even a chance to second it. “If it’s for the good of the school,” said he, “of course I’ll do my best.... It’s just as you like. Whatever seems right to you fellows....” There was a cutting silence; not so much as a movement helped him. He remained standing. He looked round hopefully. “Whatever Mr Nicholson thinks best,” said he. “If you propose me—I’ll certainly——” At last somebody spoke. It was difficult to identify the gentleman, but from the murmur of approval that followed it was clear that he voiced the opinion of all those present. The voice said: “Sit down, you ass.” With a sudden flush of acute self-consciousness Coles disappeared from view. Then there rose up one other spokesman. It was the captain of the school. He brought a touch of dignity into the atmosphere that was not unwelcome.