The annual inter-house football cup at St Austin's lay between Dacre's,
who were the holders, and Merevale's, who had been runner-up in the
previous year, and had won it altogether three times out of the last
five. The cup was something of a tradition in Merevale's, but of late
Dacre's had become serious rivals, and, as has been said before, were
the present holders.
This year there was not much to choose between the two teams. Dacre's
had three of the First Fifteen and two of the Second; Merevale's two of
the First and four of the Second. St Austin's being not altogether a
boarding-school, many of the brightest stars of the teams were day
boys, and there was, of course, always the chance that one of these
would suddenly see the folly of his ways, reform, and become a member
of a House.
This frequently happened, and this year it was almost certain to happen
again, for no less a celebrity than MacArthur, commonly known as the
Babe, had been heard to state that he was negotiating with his parents
to that end. Which House he would go to was at present uncertain. He
did not know himself, but it would, he said, probably be one of the two
favourites for the cup. This lent an added interest to the competition,
for the presence of the Babe would almost certainly turn the scale. The
Babe's nationality was Scots, and, like most Scotsmen, he could play
football more than a little. He was the safest, coolest centre
three-quarter the School had, or had had for some time. He shone in all
branches of the game, but especially in tackling. To see the Babe
spring apparently from nowhere, in the middle of an inter-school match,
and bring down with violence a man who had passed the back, was an
intellectual treat. Both Dacre's and Merevale's, therefore, yearned for
his advent exceedingly. The reasons which finally decided his choice
were rather curious. They arose in the following manner:
The Babe's sister was at Girton. A certain Miss Florence Beezley was
also at Girton. When the Babe's sister revisited the ancestral home at
the end of the term, she brought Miss Beezley with her to spend a week.
What she saw in Miss Beezley was to the Babe a matter for wonder, but
she must have liked her, or she would not have gone out of her way to
seek her company. Be that as it may, the Babe would have gone a very
long way out of his way to avoid her company. He led a fine, healthy,
out-of-doors life during that week, and doubtless did himself a lot of
good. But times will occur when it is imperative that a man shall be
under the family roof. Meal-times, for instance. The Babe could not
subsist without food, and he was obliged, Miss Beezley or no Miss
Beezley, to present himself on these occasions. This, by the way, was
in the Easter holidays, so that there was no school to give him an
excuse for absence.
Breakfast was a nightmare, lunch was rather worse, and as for dinner,
it was quite unspeakable. Miss Beezley seemed to gather force during
the day. It was not the actual presence of the lady that revolted the
Babe, for that was passable enough. It was her conversation that
killed. She refused to let the Babe alone. She was intensely learned
herself, and seemed to take a morbid delight in dissecting his
ignorance, and showing everybody the pieces. Also, she persisted in
calling him Mr MacArthur in a way that seemed somehow to point out and
emphasize his youthfulness. She added it to her remarks as a sort of
after-thought or echo.
'Do you read Browning, Mr MacArthur?' she would say suddenly, having
apparently waited carefully until she saw that his mouth was full.