Looking at it in cold blood, he shuddered at his narrow escape. What an awful thing it would have been if he had really thrown up his place on the varsity. The thought of having the contest with Harvard take place, and he not on the team, was appalling and sent an icy shiver up and down his spine. That was the event to which they all looked forward eagerly from the very beginning of the season. It was the culmination—the finish of all things; and this game would indeed be the finish for him. It was his last year. Never again would he have a chance to face the wearers of the crimson. Not to have played on Saturday would have broken his heart. He was still turning the matter over in his mind when there came a quick knock at the door. “Come in,” he called. The door swung open and Clarence Carr, blithe, brusque, and smiling, entered the room. “Hello!” greeted Kenny, springing to his feet. “Come in and rest your face and hands.” “Didn’t expect to see me quite so soon, did you?” smiled the older man. “But I had an hour to spare, so I thought I’d take advantage of your invitation and look you up.” “Glad you did,” Kenny returned cordially, taking the other’s overcoat and hat. “Sit down and smoke one of your own cigars. That sounds pretty inhospitable, but, not indulging in them, I don’t keep any on hand.” Carr dropped into a chair and took out a weed. “You didn’t put your foot into it the way one of the boys down in Wall Street did the other day,” he remarked. “He’s a pretty gay bird generally, but doesn’t happen to smoke. One of the brokers offered him a cigar, which he declined with a virtuous air. ‘No, thanks,’ he says, ‘I’m not addicted to the vice.’ That naturally got the other fellow’s goat. ‘It isn’t a vice,’ he snapped back, ‘or you probably would be.’ The drinks were on Harry that time.” Kenny laughed and settled down comfortably on the couch. He had taken a decided fancy to this fresh, breezy man of the world, who seemed to go through life in such a jolly, good-tempered way. “Well, how’d things go to-day?” Carr asked presently, in a casual tone. “Any more rows?” Kenny hesitated and a slow flush crept into his face. “We did have it pretty hot toward the end,” he confessed. “I flared up and gave Tempest a piece of my mind, and then left the field just about ready to throw the whole thing up.” A look of genuine anxiety flashed into Carr’s face. “Oh, thunder!” he exclaimed quickly. “You wouldn’t do that, would you? Why, it would just about give Harvard the game!” “I’m not going to—no,” Kenny returned. “I’ve seen since then that I couldn’t, of course; but I was so blooming mad at the time that I was ready for anything.” The broker sank back in his chair with a sigh of relief. “Gee! You gave me a start,” he confessed. “I thought for a minute you still meant that, and I certainly don’t want to see old Yale licked.” He took a meditative puff on his cigar and then went on rather casually: