"Those words betray you, my boy. You've been trapped by the green-eyed monster. Come, come, Phil, you're too manly for that." He put out a hand and rested it on Springer's shoulder. The color mounted into Phil's cheeks and slowly receded, leaving him pale, and still with downcast eyes. Eliot went on, steadily and earnestly: "We need two pitchers--we must have them if we hope to make a decent showing in the series. By and by we'll have to play two games a week, and some of those games come so close together that one pitcher alone, unless he has an arm of iron, can't do all the flinging. You've been wonderfully successful in coaching Grant, and all the time you were training him to relieve you in a measure when the hardest work should come. Nobody wants to rob you of any credit; every one says you've done a mighty good turn with him. But if you continue to sulk, as you have for the past few days, you'll lose the sympathy of your teammates; but you won't hurt Grant--otherwise than his feelings." "I don't believe it would hurt his feelings a great deal." Roger was vexed, but he continued to maintain his calm manner. "You ought to know him better than any one else around here; you ought to know whether he's at all sensitive or not. I'll tell you honestly, if I were in his place to-day, I'd feel it. Now, I'm your friend, old fellow, and I want you to listen to me and take my advice. Forget it. Get out for practice, treat Grant the same as before, and make up your mind you'll do your level best to redeem yourself in the next game you pitch. You'll have plenty of chances to show the stuff you're made of." "I don't suppose the fellows have much confidence in me now." "Nonsense! Unless they're chumps, they know every pitcher has his off days. There'll be a practice game to-night; we'll play against a picked up scrub team. Now, I want to see you at the field in a suit and ready to do your part." "All right," agreed Phil. But later, conscience-stricken and ashamed, he could not bring himself to seek Rodney Grant and own up manfully to his silly behavior. And Grant, having begun to feel piqued, made no further advances. At noon that day Roy Hooker returned to school, bringing a written excuse from his mother. Having a chance to speak privately with Springer, he said: "I hear Eliot has expressed his estimation of you and Rod Grant." Phil started. "You can near lots of things," he retorted sharply. "The fellows have been talking about it," returned Roy. "They say Eliot has said Grant will make a better pitcher than you, because you lack heart." It was a blow below the belt, and, in spite of himself, Phil could not help showing the effect. "He's welcome to th-think what he chooses," he exclaimed hotly; "it doesn't disturb me."