Tim laughed weakly. "It's all right, Donald. Just give me a minute to get my breath. Gee, things certainly spun around there for a second!" "Where'd I hit you?" "Right on the point of the jaw." Tim felt of the place gingerly. "No harm done, though. It just sort of--jarred me a bit. What time is it?" Don glanced at the tin alarm clock on his dresser. "Ten of seven," he answered. "What's that got to do with it?" "Well, you can't make the seven-one now, Donald, unless you fly all the way, can you?" "Oh!" said Don, rather blankly. "I--I'd forgotten!" "Good thing," muttered Tim. "Wish you'd forgotten before! If anyone ever tells you you're a nice good-natured, even-tempered chap, Don, don't you believe him. You send 'em to me!" "I didn't know I could lose my temper like that," replied the other shamefacedly. "Timmy, I'm most awfully sorry about it. You believe that, don't you?" "Sure!" Tim laughed. "But I'll bet you're not half as sorry as you would have been tomorrow if I'd let you go! Don, you're an awful ass, now aren't you?" Don nodded. "I guess I am, Timmy. And you're a--a brick, old man!" "Huh! Any more trains to New York tonight?" "There's one at twelve-something," answered Don, with a grin. "Thinking of catching it?" "Not a bit!" "All right then." Tim dug in his pocket and then tossed the door-key beside him on the cushion. "Better unpack your bag, you silly ass. Then we'll go out and get some air. I sort of need it!" Some three hours later Tim, tossing back his bed-clothes, exclaimed: "Hello! What have we here?" "That's just a note I wrote you," said Don hurriedly. "Hand it here, Tim." "I should say not! I'm going to read it!" "No, please, Tim! It's just about two or three things I was going to leave you! Hand it over, like a good chap!" "Something you were going to leave me?" said Tim as he let Don wrest the sheet of paper from him. "Oh, I see. Well,"--he felt carefully of the lump on his chin--"I guess you left me enough as it is, dearie!" CHAPTER XX AMY APPEARS FOR THE DEFENCE PRACTICE on Monday was a wretched affair. To be sure, many of the fellows who had played in the Chambers game had been excused, but that didn't account for the fact that those who did take part went at their work as if half asleep. Both McPhee and Cotter failed to get any life into the first, and the second, while it, too, seemed to have taken part in the general slump, managed to score twice while the first was with difficulty wresting three touchdowns from its opponent. Mr. Robey shouted himself red in the face, Steve Edwards, who followed practice, pleaded and exhorted, and a stocky, broad-shouldered, bearded individual who made his appearance that afternoon for the first time frowned and shook his head, and all to small purpose. The players accepted scoldings and insults as a donkey accepts blows, untroubledly, apathetically, and jogged on at their own pace, guilty of all the sins of commission and omission in the football decalogue.