football--nasty, rough 'Socker' footer--for one-and-six, and guaranteed
to do no injury to the most delicate constitution. A child can play it!"
These letters were anonymous, of course; but Biffen's house-paper was
freely used. "Anyhow," said Phil, with a gentle smile to me, "the spelling
is obviously Biffen's."

Acton went on his own way, serenely indifferent to his house, which would
have made a god of him on the smallest provocation. He cheerfully ignored
Bourne, and he had the art of never seeing Phil when they met, in school
or out, though, of course, Phil minded this not at all. When the
Carthusians were played, Acton spent the afternoon reading with Raven,
whose exam, was now very near; and, whilst the two were grinding out all
the absurd details of Horace and his patron, "and the poet's little farm,
and the other rot which gains Perry Exhibitions," the shouts and cheers
of the school down at the Acres came floating up the hill to their room.

The school lost their match with the Carthusians--the match which a good
St. Amorian would rather win than any two others--and it was plain that
Dick, though a useful fellow, could not bottle up the forwards in the
Actonian style. This defeat was the last straw to break the back of the
school's patience.

It was customary, after the Carthusian match, for the footer captain to
give his eleven a formal tea, Phil arranged the usual preliminaries, sick
at heart, and wearily certain as to the result. Three put in an
appearance--Vercoe, Baines, and Roberts--and in place of the burly forms
of the rest of the St. Amory's eleven, the sylph-like figures of their
fags flitted to Phil's hall of entertainment with curt little notes.
Worcester and the rest "regretted they were unable to avail themselves of
the captain's invitation."