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Robey, when alone with her husband after first hearing the news, had said, rather nervously, "I hope more than ever now that nothing will happen to dear Jervis!" And he had turned on her almost with ferocity: "Happen to Jervis? Of course nothing will happen to Jervis! As I've often told you, it's the impulsive, reckless boys who get killed not born soldiers, like Jervis.
Robey and the assistant coaches dealt praise and censure and instruction. Several of the fellows had been pretty well played out at the end of the half.
In the third period Coach Robey hustled the best of his substitutes on in the hope of stemming the tide of defeat, and, while the new men showed more dash and go, they couldn't stop the triumphant advance of the black-and-orange enemy.
I promised Mrs. Robey I'd be in to tea; the boys are back from school, you know." "Oh, yes, of course! I suppose they are. Well, you must come in some other day before you leave Witanbury." She hurried through into the garden. "I hope Jervis Blake hasn't been here very long, darling," she said fondly. "Of course I know he's your friend, and that you've always liked him.
"Very pleased to see you, I'm sure!" he exclaimed cordially. "Yes, it is as Polly says out of evil good has come to us. See here, my dear friend!" Anna came forward. She already felt better, less despondent, but it was to Polly she addressed her condolences. "What wicked folk in this city there are!" she exclaimed. "Even Mr. Robey to me says, 'Dastardly conduct!" "Yes, yes," said Polly hastily.
That's one reason why I'm going to get this wire off so early." "I suppose you'll be at Sandhurst this time next week?" And he frowned, for the first time that morning. "Oh no, I hope not! Mr. Robey heard last night from one of our fellows one of those who passed last time and he said he was being drafted at once into a regiment!
"Mordaunt," said the sandy-haired Midshipman, rising and opening the gramophone, "would you like to hear George Robey?" The officer addressed, who was sitting at the table apparently in the throes of literary composition, raised his head. "No," he replied, "I wouldn't; I'm writing a letter. 'Sides I've heard that record at least seven hundred and eighty-one times already."
"Water!" bawled Danny. A helper raced on with a slopping pail. Danny's fingers went exploring. "Ankle," groaned Benson, and Danny shot a triumphantly accusing look at Coach Robey. In a minute Benson was being helped off and the game was on again, but Mr. Robey showed a distinct aversion to meeting the trainer's glance.
Claflin sent in a substitute right end and Coach Robey put Corcoran in for Kendall. Claflin punted to midfield and Corcoran made one yard through the enemy's centre. An off-side play by the Blue gave Brimfield five yards and took the ball to the Blue's forty. Still gained two at left tackle and the half ended with the pigskin on Claflin's thirty-eight yards, the score 0 to 0.
"It's going to kill us this time," declared little Robey, the youngest subaltern, to whom the nights were a torment unspeakable. He had been within an ace of heat apoplexy more than once, and his nerves were stretched almost to breaking-point. But Merryon went doggedly on, hewing his unswerving way through all.
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