Fantasy Football Challenge - Football Fanatics Library

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Fantasy Football Challenge presents
The Triple Alliance

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"My eye," cried the dux, "won't the Philistines be wild! Fancy upsetting them in the mud, and knocking Bernard's wind out! They won't be in a hurry to meddle with us again. Well done, Diggy!" "It wasn't I alone," said the author of the enterprise; "we did it between us--the Triple Alliance." "Then three cheers for the Triple Alliance!" cried Acton. The company shouted themselves hoarse, for every one felt that the honour of The Birches had been retrieved, and that the day was still far distant when they would be crushed beneath the iron heel of young Noaks, or be exposed as an unresisting prey to the ravages of the wild hordes of Horace House. CHAPTER IV. THE SUPPER CLUB. As this story is to be a history of the Triple Alliance, and not of The Birches, it will be necessary to pass over many things which happened at the preparatory school, in order that full justice may be done to the important parts played by our three friends in an epoch of strange and stirring events at Ronleigh College. Diggory, by the daring exploit described in the previous chapter, won all hearts; and instead of being looked upon as a new boy, was regarded quite as an old and trusty comrade. Acton displayed marked favour towards the Triple Alliance, and was even more friendly with Diggory and Jack Vance than with his room and class mates, Shaw and Morris. The Philistines seemed, for the time being, paralyzed by the humiliation of their mud bath, and for many months there was a complete cessation from hostilities. It was perhaps only natural that in time of peace a brave knight like Acton should turn his thoughts from war to love-making, and therefore I shall make no excuse for relating a little experience of his which must be introduced as a prelude to the account of the formation of the famous supper club. At the very commencement of the summer term it was plain to everybody that something was wrong with the dux; he seemed to take no interest in the doings of his companions in the playground, and only once roused himself sufficiently to bang Cross with a leg-guard for bowling awful wides at cricket. At length, one afternoon, Diggory and Jack Vance on entering the shed found him sitting on the carpenter's bench, with his chin resting in his hand, and a most ferocious expression on his face. "Hullo! what's up?" Acton stared blankly at the new-comers until the question had been repeated; then he sat up and straightened his back with the air of one who has made a great resolve. "I don't mind telling you two," he said. "You know I've said before that I meant some day to propose to Miss Eleanor. Well," he added, stabbing the bench with the gimlet, "I'm going to do it." "I've saved five and ninepence," continued the speaker, "to buy a ring with, but I can't make up my mind whether I'd better speak or write to her. What do you think?" "I should say," answered Diggory, after a moment's thought, "that the best thing would be to toss up for it." "All right; have you got a coin?" "No, but I think I've got a brass button. Yes, here it is. Now, then, front you speak, and back you write. There you are--it's a letter!" "Well, now," said Acton, getting off the bench and sticking his hands deep in his trousers pockets, "what had I better say? I shall be fifteen in August; I thought I'd tell her my age, and say I didn't mind waiting." "I believe it's the girl who always says that," answered Jack Vance, kicking a bit of wood into a corner. "Then, again, I don't know how to begin. Would you say 'Dear Miss Eleanor,' or 'Dear Miss Welsby'? I think 'Dear Eleanor' sounds rather cheeky." "I'll tell you what I should do," answered Diggory, who seemed to have a great idea of letting the fates decide these matters: "I should write 'em all three on slips of paper and then draw one." "Well, I'm going to write the letter in 'prep' this evening, and let her have it to-morrow. Did you notice I gave her a flower this morning, and she stuck it in her dress?" "Yes; but fellows are often doing that," answered Jack Vance, "and she always wears them, either in her dress or stuck up somehow under her brooch." "Oh, but this was a white rose, and a white rose means something, though I don't know what. At all events, she'll have the letter to-morrow, and I'll tell you fellows when I give it her, only of course you mustn't breathe a word to any one else." "All right: we won't," answered Diggory, "except to old Mugford, because he's one of the Alliance, and we've sworn not to have any secrets from each other, and he won't split." That evening the Triple Alliance lay awake until a late hour discussing the situation. Mugford's opening comment was certainly worth recording,-- "I hope she'll accept him." "Why?" "Why, because if she does, I should think old Welsby'll give us a half-holiday." It was evident at breakfast, to those who were in the know, that Acton was prepared for the venture. He was wearing a clean collar and new necktie, and ate only four pieces of bread and butter, besides his bacon. "He's shown me the letter," whispered Diggory to Jack Vance; "only I promised I wouldn't say what was in it, but it ends up with a piece of poetry as long as this table!" After morning school was the time agreed upon for the dux to cast the die which was to decide his future; and as soon as the classes were dismissed, Jack Vance and Diggory met him by appointment in one corner of the garden. "I've done it," he said, looking awfully solemn. "She was in the hall, and I gave it to her as I came out. I say, how many _t's_ are there in 'attachment'?" Jack Vance thought one, Diggory said two; and the company then relapsed into silence, and stood with gloomy looks upon their faces, as though they were waiting to take part in a funeral procession. At length a voice from the house was heard calling, "Fred--Fred Acton!" The dux turned a trifle pale, but pulling himself together, marched off with a firm step to learn his fate. "She called him Fred," murmured Diggory; "that sounds hopeful." "Oh, that's nothing," answered Jack Vance; "Miss Eleanor always calls fellows by their Christian names. There's one thing," he added, after a few moments' thought--"if she'd cut up rough over the letter, she might have called him Mr. Acton. Hullo, here he comes!" As he spoke Acton

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