How Payne Bucked Up
by
It was Walkinshaw’s affair from the first. Grey, the captain of the St Austin’s Fifteen, was in the infirmary nursing a bad knee. To him came Charles Augustus Walkinshaw with a scheme. Walkinshaw was football secretary, and in Grey’s absence acted as captain. Besides these two there were only a couple of last year’s team left–Reade and Barrett, both of Philpott’s House.
‘Hullo, Grey, how’s the knee?’ said Walkinshaw.
‘How’s the team getting on?’ he said.
‘Well, as far as I can see,’ said Walkinshaw, ‘we ought to have a rather good season, if you’d only hurry up and come back. We beat a jolly hot lot of All Comers yesterday. Smith was playing for them. The Blue, you know. And lots of others. We got a goal and a try to nil.’
‘Good,’ said Grey. ‘Who did anything for us? Who scored?’
‘I got in once. Payne got the other.’
‘By Jove, did he? What sort of a game is he playing this year?’
The moment had come for Walkinshaw to unburden himself to his scheme. He proceeded to do so.
‘Not up to much,’ he said. ‘Look here, Grey, I’ve got rather an idea. It’s my opinion Payne’s not bucking up nearly as much as he might. Do you mind if I leave him out of the next game?’
Grey stared. The idea was revolutionary.
‘What! Leave him out? My good man, he’ll be the next chap to get his colours. He’s a cert. for his cap.’
‘That’s just it. He knows he’s a cert., and he’s slacking on the strength of it. Now, my idea is that if you slung him out for a match or two, he’d buck up extra hard when he came into the team again. Can’t I have a shot at it?’
Grey weighed the matter. Walkinshaw pressed home his arguments.
‘You see, it isn’t like cricket. At cricket, of course, it might put a chap off awfully to be left out, but I don’t see how it can hurt a man’s play at footer. Besides, he’s beginning to stick on side already.’
‘Is he, by Jove?’ said Grey. This was the unpardonable sin. ‘Well, I’ll tell you what you can do if you like. Get up a scratch game, First Fifteen v. Second, and make him captain of the Second.’
‘Right,’ said Walkinshaw, and retired beaming.
Walkinshaw, it may be remarked at once, to prevent mistakes, was a well-meaning idiot. There was no doubt about his being well-meaning. Also, there was no doubt about his being an idiot. He was continually getting insane ideas into his head, and being unable to get them out again. This matter of Payne was a good example of his customary methods. He had put his hand on the one really first-class forward St Austin’s possessed, and proposed to remove him from the team. And yet through it all he was perfectly well-meaning. The fact that personally he rather disliked Payne had, to do him justice, no weight at all with him. He would have done the same by his bosom friend under like circumstances. This is the only excuse that can be offered for him. It was true that Payne regarded himself as a certainty for his colours, as far as anything can be considered certain in this vale of sorrow. But to accuse him of trading on this, and, to use the vernacular, of putting on side, was unjust to a degree.
On the afternoon following this conversation Payne, who was a member of Dacre’s House, came into his study and banged his books down on the table with much emphasis. This was a sign that he was feeling dissatisfied with the way in which affairs were conducted in the world. Bowden, who was asleep in an armchair–he had been staying in with a cold–woke with a start. Bowden shared Payne’s study. He played centre three-quarter for the Second Fifteen.
‘Hullo!’ he said.