Next moment the door opened again and Pointon appeared, a tall, studious young man considerably impressed with the importance of the occasion. He was not alone. As he entered, the Head saw a string of young men behind him, and he rose to his feet in surprise. “What is this?” Pointon spoke in a calm voice. If anything the Head was the more excited of the two. “Some prefects of the school ask to be allowed to speak to you, sir.” “What is it about?” The deputation moved into the room, looked round almost instinctively for the Grey Man, and then brought their eyes to bear, as one man, upon the Head who had taken his place. “About Rouse, sir,” said Pointon. “They wish me as their spokesman to tell you that Rouse is the only fellow they wish to elect as captain of football, and they ask you to——” The Head advanced upon them in growing anger. “Then it is quite useless,” he replied. “You would have done better not to have come. My mind is irrevocably made up. I come from Wilton, and at that school they knew me before I left to be a man of iron determination. By trying to dissuade me you will only make me more resolute. I have made my decision and communicated it to the school. I expect you to abide by that decision without a murmur. To come here like this is a sign of weakness amongst those whom I expected to set the school an example, and it is very displeasing to me.” “Will you hear us, sir?” said Smythe. “There are some things which we think you can’t realise.” Dr Roe turned upon him irritably. “No,” said he, “I will not hear you. I have heard more than enough of this matter. You are one and all making a mountain out of a mole-hill. It is preposterous to suggest that there is only one boy in a great Public School like this who is agreeable to you as captain of football. If you had only eyes to see, you would understand for yourselves what I saw in twenty-four hours and was in time to prevent. Rouse is the one boy here who is least suited of any of you for the post. You cannot see that for yourselves and it is my duty to guide you; it is my intention to do my duty with a will of iron. They knew me at Wilton, and before very long you will know me here.” He paused. They were sullenly quiet. “Well,” he said, “are you prepared to elect a captain?” For a moment there was absolute silence. Pointon turned and looked round his deputation as if for support. At last Terence Nicholson spoke. [Illustration: “THE HEAD ADVANCED UPON THEM IN GROWING ANGER.”] “No, sir,” said he; “we are not. You won’t hear us and you don’t understand.” He drew back and fixed Terence with a wrathful glare. “Mr Nicholson has said everything you could say over and over again. There is no scope left for argument at all. I understand that you refuse to obey me. If so, you leave the election of a captain entirely in my hands. You refuse to elect your own?” Once again there was silence. And this time the silence was significant.