Probably Acton on the next day played as well as even he had ever played
in his life, for he was almost impassable, and the crowd of fellows
cheered him till they were hoarse. The minute the whistle blew, like one
man the whole school swarmed round the pavilion. The question each asked
himself and his chum was, "Would Acton get the last cap?" And the answer
was, "Why, of course! Who else should have it?"

That afternoon to most of the fellows the eleven seemed an age getting
into their sweaters and coats. When Acton appeared first, and it was seen
that he was wearing the pink cap of Biffen's on his head there was more
than astonishment, there was consternation. Whatever did it mean? Acton
smiled good-naturedly at the school as they cheered him to the echo, and
hurried unconcernedly along. The others of the eleven came out dejectedly,
and filed up the hill in gloomy little groups. The whole school waited for
Phil, and when he came out, pale and worried, they received him in icy
silence. As he was coming down the steps one of Biffen's fags shouted
shrilly, "Three cheers for Acton!"

Phil stalked through the shouting school, and as I joined him and we
walked up together, he said, through his clenched teeth--

"I wish, old man, I had never seen that brute."

That evening Bourne wrote to Worcester offering him the remaining cap.

Worcester flew across to Acton's room, and said, "Bourne has offered me
the place--the last cap. He must be stark, staring mad!"

"Take it," said Acton, coolly.