e business it would be to arrange matches, keep the
ground, make rules, and generally organise the athletics of Fellsgarth.
He hoped every one would agree to this.

Clapperton, the Modern captain, and head of Forder's house, rose to
second the motion.

"Howl away!" said D'Arcy, nudging his _protege_. Whereupon Ashby held
on to a desk and howled till the windows shook.

"That'll do," shouted D'Arcy in his ear after a moment or two, and
Ashby, thankful for the relief, shut off steam and awaited his next
orders.

Clapperton was a big, smirking fellow, rather loudly dressed, with a
persuasive voice and what was intended to be a condescending manner.
Some fellows could never make out why Clapperton did not go down in
Fellsgarth. He tried to be civil, he was lavish with his pocket-money,
and always disclaimed any desire to quarrel with anybody. And yet no
one oared for him, while of course the out-and-out champions of the
rival side hated him. He seconded with pleasure the motion of "his
friend Yorke,"--("Cheek!" exclaimed D'Arcy, _sotto voce_; "what business
has he to call our captain his friend!") This was the old rule of
Fellsgarth, and a very good rule. It meant hard work, but he was always
glad to do what he could for the old School. (It always riled the
Classics to hear a Modern talking about "the old School," and their
backs went up at this.) He had been on this committee two years now,
and had had the pleasure in a humble way of helping the clubs through
one or two of their financial difficulties, and he should be glad to
serve again. He seconded the motion.

It was a trial to one or two who had listened to see that the names were
being put to the vote by Yorke _en bloc_, without giving them the chance
of voting against anybody. Never mind, their chance for that would
come!

The next business was the election of captain of the clubs; and of
course Yorke was chosen by acclamation. No one dared oppose him. Even
"his friend Clapperton," who had the pleasure of proposing him, was sure
every one would be as glad as he would to see "his fellow-captain" (oh,
how the Classics squirmed and ground their teeth at the expression!) at
the head of the clubs.

The pent-up feelings of D'Arcy and those of his way of thinking found
some relief in the demonstration which accompanied the carrying of this
resolution. It was too good a chance to be lost, and for three minutes
by the clock the Classics stood on their fe