"With pleasure," answered Rattleton, truthfully. "Do you mind my dog?" On the contrary, they thought Blathers a lovely dog, and all four went over to a quiet cottage at a little distance from the hotel. The veranda looked out over the beautiful river and was most inviting. It was apparently not so, however, to Mrs. West; for as she went up the steps, she said: "I feel a little chilly, and am going in doors, Ethel. You may stay out here for a little while, if you like." Ethel did like and went over to a pair of chairs. As she passed through the light of an open door, Jack caught sight of a bit of blue ribbon pinned on her dress. He sat down opposite her, and opened the conversation, by remarking, "You are on the other side of the fence, I see." "Oh, yes," she answered. "Don't you know that I have a cousin on the Yale crew? I am very proud of him." "Oh, have you?" said Jack, with an inward groan. "I didn't know it. Well, I never was a really clever, polite liar, but I am not such a transparent one as to say that I hope he will win." A little rippling laugh followed this confession. "No, you had better not strain the truth to that extent. I will forgive you for sticking to your colors and for being so frank about it." "It is not only because I am a Harvard man that I want to see our crew win," Jack went on with a sort of gulp, "it is also because the most splendid man I ever knew, and one of my best friends, is in the boat. He has been through an awful mill, and deserves to win if ever a man did." "Indeed?" came the question, perfectly uninterestedly. "And who is that?" "A man named Rivers. Do you happen to know him?" Rattleton tried to see in the moonlight whether or not there was any more color in her cheek; but he couldn't. Besides, he had enough to do in looking after his own face. He felt cold all over. "Oh, yes, I know him quite well," she answered, quite carelessly. "Nice fellow." "He is more than that, he is a hero," declared Jack. "You can hardly form any idea of what that chap has been through this year, and the way he has borne it all is splendid. He has had all sorts of troubles; his governor died; he was blue about his exchequer; and last, and worst of all,"--Jack was glad the moonlight was kind to him also, but looked at his boots, nevertheless,--"I am perfectly certain that he fell in love with some girl and got a facer." "A what?" exclaimed his listener. "I beg your pardon--a staggering blow in the face, metaphorical, of course. I have got so in the habit of using slang, that I fear I am not fit to talk to a lady. I beg you will forgive me for bringing such prize-ring language to your ears." "It is very expressive, at least," she said. "And did Mr. Rivers tell you that he had received a facer?"