He had only to write that and see that it got to Clyde and probably nothing more would ever come of the affair. Clyde would understand, and, if Peaches’ theory was correct, would not present the copy of the letter. Still, they didn’t know that there was a copy, Barry reflected. Peaches’ theory was ingenious, but it might be utterly wrong. If it was wrong, there was no reason to warn Clyde. Besides, Barry wasn’t in a forgiving mood to-night. Just short of eleven, he put out the light and crawled wearily into bed, the note unwritten. But in the morning the old liking for Clyde reasserted itself and he dressed hurriedly and knocked on Toby’s door while that youth was still in the throes of waking. Toby held the record in that house for sleeping late, dressing quickly, and reaching chapel at the last possible split second. And Toby was not one who sprang blithely from bed with a glad cry to greet the dawn. Far from it! Toby awoke gradually, protestingly; and instead of glad cries he uttered sounds that possibly resembled the first grunts and grumbles of a bear aroused from his winter’s hibernation. To get Toby awake was no mean task. To get him to leave his warm couch and stumble over to his typewriter was a man-sized job. Yet Barry eventually succeeded in both, and Toby, still drugged with sleep, his eyes half open and his head nodding on his shoulders, grumbling continually, at last tapped out the words: “L. has receeved a Lettre from P.” “Thanks,” said Barry. “I’ll do as much for you sometime, Toby.” “Yes you will!” mumbled Toby, bitterly. “I’ll bet if I got _you_ out of bed in the middle of the night――” But Barry was already beyond hearing, the sheet of paper borne in triumph. Back in his own room, he folded it into an envelop on which he wrote, “Allen,” in a painfully disguised hand. Then when, as he knew, both the Second-Class fellows were at a ten-o’clock class, he went to Number 42 Dawson and dropped the missive conspicuously on Clyde’s chiffonier. He didn’t see Allen until he reached the field that afternoon. Then, if the older boy was experiencing surprise at the other’s presence at practice, he failed to show it. He looked a bit gloomy, to be sure, but of late he had frequently looked so, and Barry couldn’t have said positively that the look denoted guilt. Barry was relieved that he had to answer Clyde’s “Hello, youngster!” merely with a nod. The squads were already forming and he hurried past.