The Reformation of Study Sixteen

“What they want, of course,” said Clowes, “is exercise.” “They get out of that with their beastly doctor’s certificates,” said Trevor. “That’s the worst of this place. Any slacker who wants to shirk games goes to some rotten doctor in the holidays, swears he’s got a weak heart or something, and you can’t get at him. You have to sit and look on while he lounges about doing nothing, when he might be playing for the house. I bet Bellwood and Davies would both make good enough forwards if one could only get them on to the field. They’re heavy enough.” “I don’t wonder, considering the amount they eat and the little exercise they take. I should say there was about twice as much of Bellwood as there ought to be. And he’s the sort of chap you don’t want more of than’s absolutely necessary.” Study sixteen was under discussion, not for the first time. Bellwood and Davies, its joint occupants, had been a thorn in Trevor’s side ever since he had become captain of football. It was bad enough that two such loafers should belong to the school. That they should be in his own house was almost more than he could bear