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Updated: May 7, 2025
So, in order to keep in the limelight, he flung aside all pretences of conscience, and got the reputation of being "the devil of a sport" a reputation that is a passport to Public School society, but is damning to any man's character. Only a few realise this. Betteridge was one. He was not an athlete, but was clever and in the Sixth.
No battle-field was more rich in groans; no revue chorus produced so much noise. It took a quarter of an hour to obtain quiet. But at last a motley crowd sat down to study François Coppée. And then came the dénouement. It was entirely unexpected and entirely unrehearsed. There was a knock outside. The door opened and an amazing apparition appeared on the threshold. Betteridge was in the Sixth.
Rogers was far too self-satisfied and certain of his own importance to see that the demonstration was meant for him. But the school saw it, and so did certain members of the staff, who made everything quite clear to Rogers that afternoon. Finally, the Chief learnt of the affair. Betteridge got a lecture on military discipline and on prefectorial dignity.
That's why you hate them, Betteridge, because you are no good at them. My great ambition is to be captain of this House and win the Three Cock. Of course the worship of sport is all right. Our fathers worshipped it, and damned good fellows they were, too. I can't stand you when you talk like this. I am going to find Lovelace; he has got a bit of sense." The door slammed noisily behind him.
Hunter and Gordon came for a chat, and stayed too. Archie Fletcher had, as was usual with him, done all his preparation in half-an-hour, and was in search of something to do. Betteridge heard a noise outside, walked in, and stopped to give his opinion on the chances of A-K beating L-Z that week. In a few minutes the conversation got rather heated. The noise could be heard all down the passage.
Just before tea the Chief sent for Betteridge again. "A very interesting play. Very modern, of course, but extremely clever. Thank you so much for lending it me. I wish I had been at the reading. A record attendance, I hear. Well, ask me to come next time you get as good a play as that." There was no reference to the outhouse boycott.
"No; I was not here that term," Davenport would reply; "but I sha'n't forget when the Chief found Betteridge's bed pitched on the floor, with Betteridge underneath and Lovelace sitting on top." Was it possible, thought some small fry, that the great Mansell, who played for the Fifteen, had once actually slept in the same bed as he occupied now?
Betteridge formed the platoon up in line facing the School House dormitories; sooner or later Rogers would pass by on his way from the common room. At last he was sighted turning the corner of the Chief's drive. Half the school had assembled by the gates. "Private Morgan," shouted Betteridge, "fall out and do up your shoe-lace. "Remainder present ARMS!"
Authority had made him a dignified person. The days of ragging Trundle seemed very distant. He did not go about with Mansell so much now. He was more often with Carter and Harding. "Betteridge, come in and sit down," said Tester; "we were arguing on the value of games. Don't you agree with me that it's about time a man like Ferrers made a sensible attack on them?"
Betteridge drew up a huge notice of the meeting after hall and posted it on the school board. It ran as follows: In spite of the fact that many of the usual readers will be prevented from attending the Second Meeting of the Stoics this term, the Society will read, at seven-thirty, in the School House Reading Room, Cast .... That evening was historic.
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