“Oh, I don’t know.” Beech shrugged. “I play pretty fair sometimes and then the next day I don’t. I have pretty good fun with the second, though, and it’s something to be captain of that. I’ve no kick coming. We’d better beat it, Tucker. There goes twelve o’clock!” They dashed upstairs and out the door, Toby with one shoe-lace flapping in the breeze, and sprinted across to Oxford, Beech winning the race with six yards to spare. The morning practice was continued the next day and the next, and Toby profited far more than he had dared hope to. In the afternoons he had varying fortune, one day spending most of the playing time on the bench and once going in for the second period against the second. It was always Beech that Toby feared the most now, for the rivalry developed in the morning practice moved both to extra exertions, and, while Toby knew Beech’s attack pretty well, it was equally true that Beech knew Toby’s weaknesses. As far as Toby could see, Crowell still favored Frank Lamson for the position. In fact, Toby was fairly sure that if Coach Loring hadn’t been there Crowell would have left him on the bench most days. Frank’s playing grew neither better nor worse. He was brilliant at times, but never what could be called steady, and he had a bad habit of losing his temper after a tally had been scored on him and playing in an indifferent, swashbuckling sort of fashion for minutes afterwards. Henry was still absent from work and rumor now had it that he had virtually given up hope of reinstatement in time for further playing this season. Toby was sorry for him, but he wouldn’t have been human had he mourned over-much. With Henry out of it, and only Frank Lamson to contend with, Toby’s chance of making the coveted position in time for the Broadwood game brightened each day. There was no morning practice on Friday, for, although Toby went to the rink dressed for play, Mr. Loring failed to show up. Toby took part in a weird contest with eight preparatory class fellows and had a good time, but he regretted wasting that hour. Later, in the afternoon, it appeared that Mr. Loring had had to go home and would not be able to get back until the first of the next week. Toby was sorry to hear that, for he had secretly hoped that the coach would let him get in for a part of the Nordham game the next afternoon, perhaps for a full period. With Mr. Loring absent, however, Toby felt pretty certain that he would view that contest from the bench. Later, returning to his room at dusk, he found something that made him wonder whether he would even sit on the bench to-morrow! The something was a gray card, one of the printed forms used by the Office on which only the name, day and hour were written in. “The Principal desires to see Tobias Tucker in the School Office Saturday at 9 A. M. Respectfully, J. T. THOMPSON, Secretary.” That is what the card said. Toby said: “_Gee!_” CHAPTER XVIII IN THE OFFICE