"You can't hurt this clock," declared Phil, and, as if to prove his words, the fussy little timepiece began ticking away again, as loudly and insistingly as ever. "Well, let's get the room into some decent kind of shape, and then I'm going out and see what the prospects are for football," he went on. "I want to make that quarter-back position if I have to train nights and early mornings." "Oh, you'll get it, all right," declared Tom. "I wish I was as sure of a place as you are. I believe----" He was interrupted by a knock at the door. Sid opened it. In the hall stood one of the college messengers. "Hello, Wallops; what have you there?" asked Tom. "Telegram for Mr. Phil Clinton." "Hand it over," spoke Sid, taking the envelope from the youth. "Probably it's a proposition for him to manage one of the big college football teams." As Wallops, who, like nearly everything and every one else about the college had a nickname, departed down the corridor, Phil opened the missive. It was brief, but his face paled as he read it. "Bad news?" asked Tom quickly. "My mother is quite ill, and they will have to operate on her to save her life," said Phil slowly. CHAPTER IV FOOTBALL PRACTICE There was a moment of silence in the room. No one cared to speak, for, though Tom and Sid felt their hearts filled with sympathy for Phil, they did not know what to say. It was curiously quiet--oppressively so. The fussy little alarm clock, on the table piled high with books, was ticking away, as if eager to call attention to itself. Indeed, it did succeed in a measure, for Tom remarked gently. "Seems to me that sounds louder than it did in the other room." "There are more echoes here," spoke Sid, also quietly. "It will be different when we get the things up." The spell had been broken. Each one breathed a sigh of relief. Phil, whose face had become strangely white, stared down at the telegram in his hand. The paper rustled loudly--almost as loudly as the clock ticked. Tom spoke again. "Is it--is it something sudden?" he asked. "Was she all right when you left home to come back to college?" "Not exactly all right," answered Phil, and he seemed to be carefully picking his words, so slowly did he speak. "She had been in poor health for some time, and we thought a change of air would do her good. So father took her to Florida--a place near Palm Beach. I came on here, and I hoped to hear good news. Now--now----" He could not proceed, and turned away. Tom coughed unnecessarily loud, and Sid seemed to have suddenly developed a most tremendous cold. He had to go to the window to look out, probably to see if it was getting colder. In doing so he knocked from a chair a football, which bounded erratically about the room, as the spherical pigskin always does bounce. The movements of it attracted the attention of all, and mercifully came as a relief to their overwrought nerves.