"One goal all," replied the enthusiast huskily. "Did you beat
Appleby's?"
"Yes. Thirty points before half-time. Who's been doing the scoring
here?"
"Milton got in for us. He barged through out of touch. We've been
pressing the whole time. Barry got over once, but he was held up.
Hullo, they're beginning again. Buck up, Sey-_mour's_."
His voice cracking on the high note, he took an immense slab of vanilla
chocolate as a remedy for hoarseness.
"Who scored for Day's?" asked Clowes.
"Strachan. Rand-Brown let him through from their twenty-five. You never
saw anything so rotten as Rand-Brown. He doesn't take his passes, and
Strachan gets past him every time."
"Is Strachan playing on the wing?"
Strachan was the first fifteen full-back.
"Yes. They've put young Bassett back instead of him. Sey-_mour's_.
Buck up, Seymour's. We-ell played! There, did you ever see anything
like it?" he broke off disgustedly.
The Seymourite playing centre next to Rand-Brown had run through to the
back and passed out to his wing, as a good centre should.
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