I have done
some Rugby in my day, my boy, if you know what that means."
"I have done a little, too," said Cameron, with slightly heightened
colour.
"You have, eh! Where?"
"The Scottish International, Sir."
"By Jove! You don't tell me!" replied Mr. Denman, his tone expressing a
new admiration and respect. "When? This year?"
"No, last year, Sir--against Wales!"
"By Jove!" cried Mr. Denman again; "give me your hand, boy! Any man who
has made the Scottish Internationals is not called to stand any cheek
from a cad like Bates."
Mr. Denman shook Cameron warmly by the hand.
"Tell us about it!" he cried. "It must have been rare sport. If Bates
only knew it, he ought to count it an honour to have been knocked down
by a Scottish International."
"I didn't knock him down, Sir!" said Cameron, apologetically; "he is
only a little chap; I just gave him a bit of a shake," and Cameron
proceeded to recount the proceedings of the previous morning.
Mr. Denman was hugely delighted.
"Serves the little beast bloody well right!" he cried enthusiastically.
"But what's to do now? They will be afraid to let you into their offices
in this city."
"I think, Sir, I am done with offices; I mean to try the land."
"Farm, eh?" mused Mr. Denman. "Well, so be it! It will probably be safer
for you there--possibly for some others as well.
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