After a time he slipped from the bed, and fell on his knees by the bedside, obeying an unconscious need, in response to the suggestion of an unbroken habit of putting his boyish trust in an unseen power that knew and understood. “Oh, God,” he cried, “don’t let me be mean.” And after a time, though as a matter of fact he prayed very little more while he knelt there, he rose up, removed his soiled football clothes, washed and dressed, and slipped out quietly upon the campus. He avoided meeting the wandering boys, took himself to the beach, and with wind whistling and waves roaring in his ears, in tune with his mood, he walked the four miles out to the extreme point of Strathsey Neck. It was a grim walk, but not an unhappy one, for he had won his battle and had definitely made up his mind to be silent about the game as he had been silent about the hazing. * * * * * But Tony was not the only person who had witnessed the game that day and knew who in reality was responsible for the defeat. Mr. Morris, who chanced to be standing on the side near the Boxford goal-line, had seen with perfect distinctness all that took place during that exciting moment of the game. And though several of the boys standing near him had exclaimed, “It looks as if Chapin had knocked the ball out of Deering’s arms himself,” with his accustomed reserve, he held his peace and made no comment. The incredibility of such an act on Chapin’s part had speedily driven from the boys’ minds the momentary impression. Morris, observing at the time of the game that Reggie Carroll was standing near him, had moved over to join him. But at that instant time had been called, and immediately the field was a scene of indescribable confusion. The house master pondered over the matter during the evening, but could not make up his mind as to the proper course of action. Just before lights that night he strolled into Carroll’s and Deering’s study, where he found Reggie as usual at his ease in a Morris chair with a novel in his hands. Carroll affected French novels, largely because he could plead the excuse when he was caught reading them that it was for the sake of his languages. “Come in, do, Mr. Morris,” exclaimed Carroll, with a trace less than his wonted coolness. The master entered, closing the door behind him. “Where is Deering?” he asked, as he seated himself on the couch, and taking up a paper-cutter from the table, began to play with it. “He has just come back from a long walk, and turned in, sir. Would you like to speak with him?” “No, no, thank you,” Morris answered. “But I will sit for a moment, if you like, and talk with you. That was an unfortunate game to-day, was it not?” And as Morris asked the question he looked at Reggie closely. “Very,” the boy answered, laconically. “Particularly for our friend Deering,” persisted the master. “Yes, I wish they had not played him; it was a poor experiment.” “Had you supposed him a careless player?”