"Well, sir, Hazelton went to the matron last night, and they discovered
he had got mumps. I just passed him on the way to the sanatorium."

"Um! That means there is no School House representative. There must be
one. It would not do for it to appear a school thing, got up against a
School House boy. It would only help to alienate the two parties still
more. Let's see, who is the next senior man in the School House?"

"Pilcher, sir."

Pilcher was one of those people who, though quite efficient at
everything--he was in the Upper Sixth--pass through the school without
leaving any mark behind them. He was outside three-quarter, and was well
worth his place in the side, but he was in no way a blood. He was never
seen. He was always in his study. His was a blameless, uneventful
career.

"He won't raise any objection, will he?"

"I shouldn't think so, sir."

Akerman had difficulty in not smiling.

"Very well, then, you had better call a meeting of the Games Committee
this afternoon and talk over the matter. If anyone makes a fuss, say I
agree with it; and I expect it will be all right."

There was no need, however, for any recourse to the oracle. The Games
Committee consisted of the captains of each house. None of them cared
the least what happened to Caruthers; he was nothing to them. Pilcher
supposed it was all right. The grand remonstrance was passed.

On Monday at twelve-thirty Gordon was summoned by a fag to attend in the
school library. The six members of the Games Committee sat around a
circular table on which lay two canes. It all looked very impressive.

Akerman rose. He began to read a speech off a piece of school paper.
Gordon had wondered why he had been so very energetic in taking down
notes during the Chief's divinity lecture that morning. The speech went
on. It was full of the inevitable platitudes about _esprit de corps_ and
a sportsmanlike spirit. Now and then Akerman stumbled, and had some
difficulty in reading his own writing. If there had not hung over him
the prospect of a very severe beating, Gordon would have enjoyed himself
thoroughly. Akerman was so pricelessly absurd. The rest looked painfully
self-conscious. Why could not Akerman have learnt his speech? It was so
bad that he could not imagine anyone having any difficulty in making it
up as he went along. Akerman was afraid of expressing an opinion. He
prefaced every remark with "Mr Buller says." It gave a sense of
security. The speech ended