"
Renewed cheers.
"And how," demanded Councillor Barlow, jumping up angrily, "are we to
get him back to his precious native town? Councillor Machin admits that
he is not an expert on football. It will probably be news to him that
Aston Villa have offered L700 to York for the transfer of Callear, and
Blackburn Rovers have offered L750, and they're fighting it out between
'em. Any gentleman willing to put down L800 to buy Callear for Bursley?"
he sneered. "I don't mind telling you that steam-engines and the King
himself couldn't get Callear into our club."
"Quite finished?" Denry inquired, still standing.
Laughter, overtopped by Councillor Barlow's snort as he sat down.
Denry lifted his voice.
"Mr Callear, will you be good enough to step forward and let us all have
a look at you?"
The effect of these apparently simple words surpassed any effect
previously obtained by the most complex flights of oratory in that hall.
A young, blushing, clumsy, long-limbed, small-bodied giant stumbled
along the central aisle and climbed the steps to the platform, where
Denry pointed him to a seat. He was recognised by all the true votaries
of the game.
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