He had expected Yorke would have come to terms before now, and it disconcerted him to see that, on the contrary, the captain seemed determined to carry the thing through.
The only thing, of course, was for the Moderns to abstain in a body from the meeting.

But could they depend on their forces to obey their leaders?
It was all very well to compel four players to refuse to act; but to constrain 120 boys to do the same was a less easy task.
It seemed to Clapperton that he would do best to strike the iron while hot; and for that purpose he made a descent next morning into the quarters of his fag.

If he could secure the juniors, it would be something.
He found Percy there alone, diligently working.

That young gentleman had in fact been reminded in pretty forcible terms by Mr Forder that he had not yet handed in his Latin letter of apology ordered a week ago.
Percy had hoped if he forgot it long enough Mr Forder would forget it too, and it had startled and grieved him very much to-day to receive notice that unless he brought his _poena_ in an hour he would be sent up to the doctor.
Consequently, while his comrades were out enjoying themselves, he was here in a shocking bad temper, with a Latin Dictionary in front of him, trying to express his contrition for having used bad language in class a week ago.
He had got a little way.

Latin prose for a Modern junior is a trifle thorny; but Percy had a rough and ready way with him which, if it did not emulate Cicero, at least made his meaning tolerably clear.
"Care Magistere Fordere, Ego sum excessive tristis ut ego usebam malam linguam in classem alteram diem.