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 "But I haven't kicked a ball for years."

"So much the worse for you. The match is for the benefit of the widow and young children of a good chap, and you were always a great draw for the public."

"Was I?" said Mr. Philip apprehensively, for he read in the eyes of Mary that his doom was sealed.

"Were you, Phil-ipp! Might never have kicked three goals against Scotland, mightn't you? Why, of course you'll play; especially as it's a benefit match."

"But I haven't kicked a ball for years and years, and I've got no gear either."

"We'll soon fix you up with some gear, won't we, Mrs. Shel?" said the exultant Olympians.

"Ra-ther."

Poor Philip protested bitterly; but he knew, alas! that he would have to bow to the inevitable. At a quarter-past three on the morrow, after an absence of four years, he was doomed to reappear in the ranks of the famous amateur team whom he had helped to make history.