Hugh nodded, smiled, and turned away in the direction of Lothrop. A chorus of regrets, of protests, of questions went after him, but he kept on. Bert watched him disappear into the building before he jumped up and hurried after. “What,” demanded Bert, as he closed the door behind him, “what is this――this”――unconsciously he adopted Hugh’s phrase of the other evening――“this piffling poppycock?” Hugh, standing at the window, one knee on the cushion, turned and smiled conciliatingly. “Mother telegraphed to faculty. She doesn’t want me to play. She――she’s afraid I’d get hurt, don’t you know. Of course, it’s bally nonsense, but there you are, what?” Bert advanced into the room and shied his cap to the table. Then he plunged his hands in his pockets and observed sweetly: “Must have been an awful surprise to you!” Hugh colored. “Well, there it is, eh?” “Most breaks your heart, doesn’t it?” continued Bert with suspicious sympathy. “Oh, well, now, old chap, of course a fellow’s disappointed, and all that, but――――” Then Bert let loose. I’m not going to try to say what he did, partly because it was all dreadfully incoherent and partly because he used expressions and called names that barely escaped being in shocking bad taste. One of the nicest things he called Hugh was a “dunder-headed ass”! And Hugh took it all quite good-naturedly and very calmly, even seating himself as though in order to listen more attentively. And when, at last, Bert petered out for lack of breath or language, Hugh only grinned at him! “You can’t prove anything you’ve said,” he remarked finally, just when Bert showed a disposition to go on again. “And, anyway――――” “I don’t have to prove it; I _know_ it!” bellowed the other. “I’m not a complete fool!” He glared at Hugh a space longer and then subsided in the Morris chair. “What――what did you do it for, Hugh?” he asked almost pathetically. Hugh blustered weakly. “I haven’t said I’d done anything, have I? That’s your story. If you don’t believe me when I tell you that――that――――” “Well, go on,” said Bert sarcastically. But Hugh didn’t. “Anyway, it’s done and that’s all there is to it. What’s the good of cutting up rough?” “Hugh, you’re an ass.” Hugh smiled and shrugged his shoulders. “I say, you know, you’ve told me that before a number of times.” “And I tell it to you again, you――you chump! If this ever gets out Bonner will scalp you and the school will chase you from here to the Junction!” “Why should it get out, as you say? And――and what is there to get out, anyway?” “There’s this. You wrote home and got your mother to send that telegram, and if that isn’t――――” “I didn’t!” denied Hugh. “You didn’t! Look here, can you look me in the eyes and say you didn’t put your mother up to it?” “I didn’t write home,” replied Hugh evasively.