under the Rugby laws.

"Now, are you ready?" said he, when all preliminaries were settled, and
the ball lay, carefully titled, ready for Farfield's kick-off.

"Wait a bit," cried some one. "Where's Jeffreys?"

Where, indeed? No one had noticed his absence till now; and one or two
boys darted off to look for him.

But before they had gone far a white apparition appeared floundering
across the meadow in the direction of the goals; and a shout of derisive
welcome rose, as Jeffreys, arrayed in an ill-fitting suit of white
holland, and crowned with his blue flannel cap, came on to the scene.

"He's been sewing together the pillow-cases to make his trousers," said
some one.

"Think of a chap putting on his dress shirt to play football in," cried
another.

"Frampton said we were to wear the oldest togs we'd got," said a third,
"not our Sunday best."

Jeffreys, as indeed it was intended, heard these facetious remarks on
his strange toilet, and his brow grew heavy.

"Come on," said Scarfe, as he drew near, "it wasn't fair to the other
side for you not to play."

"I couldn't find my boots," replied the Cad shortly, scowling round him.

"Perhaps you'll play forward," said Farfield, "and if ever you don't
know what to do, go and stand outside those flag posts, and for mercy's
sake let the ball alone."

"Boo-hoo! I _am_ in such a funk," cried Forrester with his mocking
laugh. "Thank goodness I'm playing back."

"Come now," called Mr Freshfield impatiently, "are you ready? Kick
off, Farfield. Look out, School."

Next moment the match had begun.

As might have been expected, there was at first a great deal more
confusion than play. Bolsover was utterly unused to doing anything
together, and football of all games needs united action.

There was a great deal of scrimmaging, but very few kicks and very few
runs. The ball was half the time invisible, and the other half in
touch. Mr Freshfield had time after time to order a throw-in to be
repeated, or rule a kick as "off-side." The more ardent players forgot
the duty of protecting their flanks and rear; and the more timid
neglected their chances of "piling up" the scrimmages. The Sixth got in
the way of the Sixth, and the School often spoiled the play of the
School.

But after a quarter of an hour or so the chaos began to resolve itself,
and each side, so to speak, came down to its bearings. Mr Frampton, as
he walked across from the small boys' match, was