Frank grinned. “So peeved you won’t even wear his present, eh? Sic him, Prince! I dare say whatever the row is, it’s Arn’s fault. He’s a stubborn brute. I’ve known him for five or six years, I guess, and I know his tricks. Arn isn’t a bad sort, of course, but he’s mighty cranky sometimes. Well, he will get over it, Toby. Let him alone, eh?” Toby made no response. He was wondering what Frank would say if he was told that he was the reason of the quarrel. Frank varied his performance on the radiator by tapping the coils and looked hurt when they all developed about the same notes. “You know Tommy Lingard, don’t you?” asked Toby suddenly. Frank nodded without looking up, continuing his hopeless search for music. “Yes, I know Tommy after a fashion. What about him?” “Nothing. He said one time that he knew you pretty well.” “He will say anything, the little rotter,” replied Frank cheerfully. “Tommy’s one of the finest little impromptu, catch-as-catch-can liars in school. Still, he managed to tell the truth for once. My folks know his folks at home. They live on the same street with us. His old man’s a nice old sort. Has a heap of money. Made it easy, too.” “Did he?” asked Toby. “How?” “Just by cutting-up.” “Cutting-up? How do you mean?” “He was a butcher,” laughed Frank. “I spring that one on Tommy when he gets too fresh. He’s a beast of a nuisance, that kid. Always wanting to borrow money from me. He has plenty of his own, but he spends it on candy and truck like that and is always broke. Well, here we go! What do you have this hour?” “Math,” answered Toby. “Mr. McIntyre.” “‘Kilts,’ eh? He’s a good old sort, ‘Kilts’ is. Well, so long. See you at practice.” Frank nodded, still a trifle condescendingly, and strolled off after one final hopeless tap on a steam coil, leaving Toby to gather his books and make his way down the corridor in the other direction. If, he pondered, young Lingard was really the liar that Frank dubbed him perhaps his story about getting that patched dollar from Frank was untruthful. On the other hand, though, Frank had said that Lingard was always trying to borrow money. And if that was so, why, what more probable than that Frank had loaned him some, as Lingard had stated? Well, he would probably never know the real truth of it. And, besides, he had agreed with himself to forget it. So there was no use speculating about it. But, just the same, he wished he knew! Somehow it wasn’t so easy to-day to believe in Frank’s guilt. And somehow revenging himself on Frank by beating him out for the position of goal-tend didn’t appeal to him nearly so much as it had a few days before. Of course the mere fact that Arnold hadn’t given Frank that scarf-pin proved nothing, but Toby got a lot of satisfaction from it! CHAPTER XX CAPTAIN AND COACH