There was only one bath in the first fifteen room, and there were on
the present occasion six claimants to it. And each claimant was of the
fixed opinion that, whatever happened subsequently, he was going to
have it first. Finally, on the suggestion of Otway, who had reduced
tossing to a fine art, a mystic game of Tommy Dodd was played. Otway
having triumphantly obtained first innings, the conversation reverted
to the subject of the match.

The Easter term always opened with a scratch game against a mixed team
of masters and old boys, and the school usually won without any great
exertion. On this occasion the match had been rather more even than the
average, and the team had only just pulled the thing off by a couple of
tries to a goal. Otway expressed an opinion that the school had played
badly.

"Why on earth don't you forwards let the ball out occasionally?" he
asked. Otway was one of the first fifteen halves.

"They were so jolly heavy in the scrum," said Maurice, one of the
forwards. "And when we did let it out, the outsides nearly always
mucked it."

"Well, it wasn't the halves' fault. We always got it out to the
centres."

"It wasn't the centres," put in Robinson. "They played awfully well.
Trevor was ripping."

"Trevor always is," said Otway; "I should think he's about the best