“Hello, you chaps!” he exclaimed. “Glad to see you. The more so as I was bored stiff with this.” He tossed the book on the table and pulled a chair toward the hearth. “Bring that other one along, Jones. Sit down, Locke. That fire isn’t really needed to-day, but I’m sort of an old granny about fires. I love to sit and toast my shins. Well, Jones, how’s life treating you?” “Almost as well as I deserve, sir.” Major Loring chuckled. “You leave me to draw my own conclusions, eh? Oh, well! I dare say you aren’t getting many hard knocks. You look chipper enough. Of the two of you I’d say Locke is the one who’s discovered a crumpled rose-leaf. No ill effects from yesterday’s argument, I hope?” “No, sir,” answered Barry, trying to smile as naturally as his companion. “That’s good. Did you see the game, Jones? Our chaps showed a little more class, don’t you think? Oh, we’ve got some way to travel yet, but it looks as if we’d got started! Locke, here, did a pretty good job, by the way. There’s a fellow who told me only three weeks ago that he didn’t care for football!” The coach laughed and Barry managed to grin. “I thought our team played pretty good football, sir,” said Peaches. “Looks to me as if we’d round out all right by the end of the season. Some of the new fellows are showing up pretty well, aren’t they?” “Yes, they are. We’ve got a lot of clever substitutes, Jones; and, take my word for it, nothing makes a coach feel more snug than plenty of good second-string material. He has next year in mind as well as this, you know. And the year after that, too. I’d like to keep twice as many fellows going as I do, but there’d be no use in that, as I couldn’t look after them. I’ll have some help after this week. Graham and Jonah Mears are coming up to help out. Graham will take over the third squad and give us some real practice games. You remember him, Jones. He was here last fall.” “Very well, sir. Little wiry chap. Mr. Mears, too, although he was up only a few days, I think.” “Yes, but he’s going to give us two full weeks this time. He’s a corking good hand with the backs.” The football talk continued. Barry, perched on the edge of a big chair, listened, smiled perfunctorily when the Major glanced his way, and wished himself back at home. How would he ever manage to do what he had come to do? Football finally became exhausted as a topic and the conversation turned to baseball and the Major and Peaches discussed plans for the spring. The fire crackled and hissed softly and the sunlight became ruddy outside the open windows. Finally Peaches looked at his watch and, “Hello!” he said, glancing at Barry. “’Most six! We’ll have to be traveling.” Barry took a long breath. “Major, I――” Perhaps he hadn’t really spoken out loud, for the Major evidently hadn’t heard. “Well,” the latter was saying, “I’m glad you dropped in, Jones. You, too, Locke. Do it again, will you?”