tain of footer at Oxford. You must have heard of T. B. Hook!"
I didn't like to say I had not; so I mur- mured, "Oh, T. B. Hook!"
This satisfied him. He went on to describe Mr. Hook.
"Best forward Oxford's had for seasons. See him dribble—my word! Halloa! there's the band starting again. May I take you"
At this moment Mr. T. B. Hook detached himself—with relief, I thought—from the lady in red, and, after looking about him, caught sight of me and made his way in my direction. I admired the way he walked. He seemed to be on springs.
He danced splendidly, but in silence. After making one remark to him—about the floor —which caused him to look scared and crimson, I gave up the idea of conversation, and began to think, in a dreamy sort of way, in time to the music. It was not till quite the end of the dance that my great idea came to me. It came in a very roundabout way. First I thought about father, then about Bob, then about Bob's letter, then about his saying he might play for Oxford. And then, quite in a flash, I realized that it was Mr. T. B. Hook, and no other, who had the power of letting him play or keeping him out, and I saw that here was my chance of doing Bob the good turn I owed him. I have since been told—by Bob—that an idea so awful (so absolutely fiendish, was his expression) could only have occurred to a girl. In- gratitude, as I have said before, is Bob's besetting sin.
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.
"We sat down. I could feel him trying to find something to say."
I said, "You are very fond of football, aren't you?"
He brightened up.
Vol. xxxi.—27.
