was one of the monitors, but seldom
asserted his authority or put himself out in any way to perform the
duties of the office. He was dressed with scrupulous care, and no one
from his appearance would have said that he had just come off a railway
journey. He nodded all round in a careless way as he came in, and there
was none of the boisterous friendliness that had marked the meeting of
most of the others.

"Affected ass!" Skinner growled to Rupert who was next to him.

"You are a prejudiced beggar, Skinner," Rupert laughed. "You know very
well he is not an ass, and I am not at all sure he is affected. I
suppose it is the way he has been brought up. There is no saying what
you might have been yourself if you had had nurses and people about you
who always insisted on your turning out spick-and-span. Well, Easton,
what have you been doing with yourself since we saw you last?"

"I have been on the Continent most of the time," Easton said, in the
quiet, deliberate tone that was so annoying to Skinner. "Spent most of
the time in Germany: had a week at Munich, and the same time in Dresden
doing the picture-gallery."

"That must have been a treat," Skinner said sarcastically.

"Yes, it was very pleasant. The worst of it is, standing about so long
makes one's feet ache."

"I wonder you did not have a bath-chair, Easton; delicate people go
about in them, you know."

"It would be a very pleasant way, Skinner, only I don't think I could
bring myself to it."

There was a laugh at his taking Skinner's suggestion seriously.

"What have you been doing, Skinner?"

"I have been up in Scotland climbing hills, and getting myself in good
condition for football," Skinner replied shortly.

"Ah, football? Yes, I suppose we shall be playing football this term."

There was another laugh, excited principally by the angry growl with
which Skinner greeted this indifference to what was to him the principal
feature of the year.

"I shouldn't mind football," Easton went on, after looking round as if
unable to understand what the others were laughing at, "if it wasn't for
the dirt. Of course it is annoying to be kicked in the shins and to be
squeezed horribly in the greases, but it is the dirt I object to most.
If one could but get one's flannels and jerseys properly washed every
time it would not matter so much, but it is disgusting to have to put on
things that look as if they had been rolled in mud."

"I wonder you play at all, Eas