The School was disappointed and showed the fact. The applause that almost invariably greeted the players as they sought their table in dining hall was lacking this Saturday evening; or was so faint it merely emphasized the absence of the customary demonstration. The game caused a good deal of discussion, and the consensus of opinion was to the effect that the defeat had been unnecessary and that Coach Cade had, in the popular phraseology, pulled a boner. Of course there were those who stood up for Johnny, and among them was Tommy Parish. As always, Tommy’s views met opposition, and, as always, that fact merely spurred him to more brazen assertions. Tommy had the misfortune--for so it was considered at Alton--to sit at a table accommodating not only a number of fellow students but a member of the Faculty, one Mr. Peghorn, who instructed the Junior and Senior classes in physics. However, it must be said that Tommy allowed “Peg’s” presence to “cramp his style” very little, while--and this is a secret between us--Mr. Peghorn, who had taught boys for so long that his enthusiasm was fast wearing thin, seldom lifted his head from above his plate save when Tommy was going well. Then he occasionally darted a frowning glance toward that youth that might have silenced another but that left Tommy untroubled. Perhaps Tommy somehow knew that under that frown, or behind it, Mr. Peghorn was secretly sympathetic. When one has listened to conventional and uninspired table-talk for many years even a jarring note is a relief. “Trouble with you guys,” declared Tommy in that aggravating, assured manner of his, “is that you can’t see beyond the end of your noses. You get sore because Coach doesn’t win a game that he doesn’t care two cents about.” “A game’s a game,” said the freckle-faced boy across the table. “And a slice of beef’s a slice of beef,” retorted Tommy, “but I noticed you were mighty careful not to pick out a little one just now!” “Just the same,” said another fellow above the chuckles rewarding Tommy’s sally, “it doesn’t look very well, Tommy, to play two games, as we’ve done, and not win either of them. I say it wouldn’t have hurt Johnny to have kept his best men in and put the game on ice. Then he could have tried out his subs if there was time.” “Put the game on ice!” exclaimed Tommy. “_Comment?_ Those dumb-bells couldn’t put anything on ice, Harry. They’re so dead on their feet you could put lilies in their hands without waking ’em! Why, the only chance Johnny had of winning to-day was to put in his third-string players. If he had played his second-string all through he might have tied, but it would have taken the third-string bunch to win!” “Oh, don’t talk like a baked apple,” protested some one farther along. “Do you mean to say that Banning could have pushed across for that touchdown if the regulars had been in the line-up? If you do you’re cuckoo!”