“Rather than no one, yes,” replied Mr. Loring dryly. “Possibly you have wondered why I ‘butted in’ this winter. I’ll tell you. A number of us Old Boys got to talking things over one afternoon in the club in New York and the question of a hockey coach came up. I was asked if I was going to help again this year and said that I had had no request; that since we had lost to Broadwood last year I thought that probably the sentiment here was in favor of a change. We all felt that things ought to be pulled together and we got in touch with Mr. Bendix by telephone. He told us that you were looking for a coach but hadn’t found any one. Nothing more was done then. That was in December. I think about the tenth. During vacation Mr. Bendix happened into the club one day and the subject of hockey came up again. He said that they were still without a coach and that he thought it would be well for some of us to take the matter up and send some one down there. Two or three old players were approached, but none of them could give the time. For that matter, I didn’t feel that I could spare the time myself, but there seemed to be no one else and the others insisted and so I came. I might have taken everything right out of your hands, Crowell, and put myself in full command, as I was last season. Faculty advised me to, but I knew you well enough to realize that the only way we could turn out any sort of a team was for you and I to pull together, my boy. You didn’t want me and you wouldn’t have had me if you could have found some one else. I didn’t much care whether you wanted me or not, however. We grads want good teams here and we want the old school to win her games. My interest begins and ends there. So far you and I have got along very well, but it’s been mainly because I’ve taken pains not to interfere a bit more than has been absolutely necessary. Now we’ve come to a situation that demands a sort of a show-down, I guess. Suppose you tell me frankly why you dislike the idea of having Tucker play goal instead of Lamson.” “I haven’t a thing against Tucker, sir,” replied Crowell slowly, evidently choosing his words with care, “unless it’s his age. He’s pretty young to be a first team goal-tend, isn’t he?” “Yes, but if he can play the position it doesn’t seem to me that his age has much to do with it. What’s the rest of it?” “That’s all, Mr. Loring, really,” insisted Crowell. “I guess that the fact of the matter is that I――I just got used to the idea of a certain fellow playing a position and hate to think of changing.” “That’s a bad idea, Crowell. Every team is likely to have some dead-wood in it that needs cutting out. You want the seven best players in there that you can find, irrespective of age or social affiliations or anything else. Isn’t that so?” “Yes, sir, it is. Is there any other dead-wood? Have you any other fellows in mind?”