Hall restrictions, or hall bounds in student phraseology, was ordinarily not a very severe infliction. You went to chapel, classes and meals as usual, but for the rest you stayed in your dormitory building and let the world wag along without you. You were allowed the freedom of the recreation room downstairs and you could, if the hall master saw fit to allow, visit other fellows in the building. So long as you were not engaged in athletic activities you didn’t suffer greatly, although after a few days the régime began to seem decidedly monotonous. In Willard’s case hall bounds was a real punishment since it meant no more football, and he had very dreary thoughts that Monday afternoon. As required, he had acquainted Manager Ross of his forced absence from the field, and Ross had scowled and scolded, and even stormed a little, but had not, apparently, connected the fact with the happening at Hillsport on Saturday night. Willard didn’t dare prophesy to himself what the outcome would be. He had a well-developed notion that fellows had been expelled from Alton School for misdemeanors no more heinous. In any case, he was quite certain that there would be no more football for him that fall, since even if, by a miracle, his punishment should be ultimately no worse than at present, a week or a fortnight of absence from practice would end his usefulness to the team. Coach Cade, he reflected grimly, wasn’t going to hold the left half-back position open for him! There were moments when he felt somewhat aggrieved and when he told himself bitterly that it wasn’t fair that he should be made the goat for the whole crowd. But second thought did away with all that. If he could keep the others out of it, he decided, he would do it ungrudgingly, even if it cost his dismissal. After all, the success of the football team was the big thing, and, although he couldn’t help any longer with his playing, he could help a whole big lot by keeping his tongue still.