One of my aunts is always talking about the tremendous influence of a good woman. My idea was to try it, for Bob's benefit, on Mr. T. B. Hook.
The music stopped, and we went into the conservatory. My partner's silence was more noticeable now that we had stopped dancing. His waltzing had disguised it.
We sat down. I could feel him trying to find something to say. The only easy remark, about the floor, I had already made.
So I began.
I said, "You are very fond of football, aren't you?"
He brightened up.
"Oh, yes," he said. "Yes. Yes."
He paused for a moment, then added, as if he had had an inspiration, "Yes."
"Yes?" I said.
"Oh, yes," he replied, brightly. "Yes."
Our conversation was getting quite brisk and sparkling.
You're captain of Oxford, aren't you?" I said.
"Oh, yes," he replied. "Yes."
"I'm very fond of cricket," I said, "but I don't understand football. I suppose it's a very good game?"
"Oh, yes. Yes."
"I have a brother who's a very good player," I went on.
"Yes?"
"Yes. He's at Oxford, too. At Magdalen."
"Yes?"
"Are you at Magdalen?"
"Trinity."
"Do you know my brother?"
I saw he hadn't heard my name when we had been introduced, so I added, "Romney."
"I don't think I know any Romney. But I don't know many Magdalen men."
"I thought you might, because he told me you were probably going to put him into the Oxford team. I do hope you will."
Mr. Hook, who had been getting almost at home and at his ease, I believe, suddenly looked pink and scared again. I heard him whisper, "Good Lord!"
"Please put him in," I went on, feeling like Bob's guardian angel. "I'm sure he's much better than anybody else, and we should be so pleased."
"You would be so pleased," he repeated, mechanically.
"Awfully pleased," I said. "I couldn't tell you how grateful. And it would make such a lot of difference to Bob. I can't tell you why, but it would."
"Oh, it would?" said he.
"A tremendous lot. You won't forget the name, will you? Romney. I'll write it down for you on your programme. R. Romney, Magdalen College. You will put him in, won't you? I shall be too grateful for anything. And father —"
"I think this is ours?" said a voice.
My partner for the next dance was standing before me. In the ball-room they were just beginning the Eton boating song. I heard Mr. Hook give a great sigh. It may have been sorrow, or it may have been relief.
About a week after this father said "Halloa!" as he was reading the paper at breakfast. "They're playing Bob at half for Oxford, Joan," he said, "against Wolverhampton Wanderers."
"Oh, father!" I said; "are they really?"
The influence of the good woman had begun to work already.
"Instead of Welby-Smith, apparently. I suppose they had to make some changes after their poor show against the Casuals. Well, I hope Bob will stay in now he's got there."
"You'd be pleased if he got his Blue, wouldn't you, father?"
"Yes, my dear, I should."
I thought of writing to Mr. Hook to thank him, but decided not to. It was best to let well alone.
I got a letter from Bob a fortnight later saying that he was still in the team, though he had not been playing very well. He himself, he said, had rather fancied he would have been left out after the Old Malvernians match, and he wouldn't have complained, because he had played badly; but for some reason they stuck to him, and if he didn't do anything particularly awful in the next few matches, he said, he was practically a certainty for Queen's Club.
"What's Queen's Club?" I asked father.
"It's where the 'Varsity match is played. We must go and see it if Bob gets his Blue. Or in any case."
Bob did get his Blue. I felt quite a thrill when I thought of what Mr. Hook had suffered for my sake. Because, you see, there were lots of people who thought Bob wasn't good enough to be in the team. Father read me a bit out of a sporting paper in which the man who wrote it compared the two teams and said that "the weak spot in the Oxford side is undoubtedly Romney," and a lot of horrid things about his not feeding his forwards properly. I said, "I'm sure that isn't true. Bob's always giving dinners to people. In fact, that's the very reason why —"
I stopped.
"Why what?" said father.
"Why he's so hard up, father, dear. He is, you know. It's because of his twenty-first birthday, he said."
"I shouldn't wonder, my dear. I Remember my own twenty-first birthday celebrations, and I don't suppose things have altered much since my time. You must tell Bob to come to me if he is in difficulties. We mustn't be hard on a man who's playing in the 'Varsity match, eh, my dear?"
I said, "No; I'll tell him."
Bob stopped with us the night before the match. He hardly ate anything for dinner, and he wanted toast instead of bread. When I met him afterwards, though, he was looking very pleased with things and very friendly.
"It's all right about those bills," he said. "The governor has given me a cheque. He's awfully bucked about my Blue."
"And it was all me, Bob," I cried. "It was every bit me. If it hadn't been for me you wouldn't be playing to-morrow. Aren't you grateful, Bob? You ought to be."
"If you can spare a moment and aren't too busy talking rot," said Bob, "you might tell me what it's all about."
"Why, it was through me you've got your Blue."
"So I understand you to say. Mind explaining? Don't, if it would give you a headache."
"Why, I met the Oxford captain at Aunt Edith's dance, and I said how anxious you were to get your Blue, and I begged him to put you in the team. And the very next Saturday you were tried for the first time."
Bob positively reeled, and would have fallen had he not clutched a chair. I didn't know people ever did it out of novels. He looked horrible. His mouth was wide open and his face a sort of pale green. He bleated like a sheep.
"Bob, don't!" I said. "Whatever's the matter?
He recovered himself and laughed feebly. "All right, Kid," he said, "that's one to you. You certainly drew me then. By gad! I really thought you meant it at first."
My eyes opened wide. "But, Bob," I said, "I did."
His jaw fell again.
You mean to tell me," he said slowly, "that you actually asked — Oh, my aunt!"
He leaned his forehead on the mantelpiece. "I can't stay up after this. Good Lord! the story may be all over the 'Varsity! Suppose somebody did get hold of it! I couldn't live it down."
He raised his head. "Look here, Joan," he said; "if a single soul gets to hear of this I'll never speak to you again." And he stalked out of the room.
I sat down and cried.
He would hardly speak a word to me next morning. Father insisted on his having breakfast in bed, so as not to let him get tired; so I did not see him till lunch. After lunch we all drove off to Queen's Club in Aunt Edith's motor. While Bob was upstairs packing his bag, father said to me, "Here's an honour for us, Joan. Bob is bringing the Oxford captain back to dinner to-night."
I gasped. I felt it would take all my womanly tact to see me through the interview. He wouldn't know how offended Bob was at being put in the team, and he might refer to our conversation at the dance.
Bob was evidently still wrapped in gloomy despair when he joined us. He was so silent in the motor that father thought he must be dreadfully nervous about the match, and tried to cheer him up, which made him worse. We arrived at the ground at last, and Bob went to the pavilion to change.
We sat just behind two young men whose whole appearance literally shrieked the word "Fresher"! When I thought that Bob had been just like that a year before and that he was really quite different now, I felt so proud of my efforts to improve him that I was quite consoled for the moment. I was in a gentle reverie when father nudged me, and I woke up to find that the two young men were discussing Bob. "Yes, that's all very well," one of them was saying, the one in the brighter brown suit, "but my point is that he's too selfish. He doesn't feed his forwards enough."