“And you had to stay and serve afternoon tea? What a bore!” Mr. Crowley’s bantering tone ceased abruptly. “Look here, Ordway, practice is at three-thirty. I told you when I let you come back that you were to stick. You’re not keeping your part of the agreement. Unless you were detained by the faculty, in which case you should have notified me, you have no excuse whatsoever. I don’t want any fellows here who can’t be on time. Life’s too short to worry about them. Understand that?” “Yes, sir. It won’t happen again, Mr. Crowley.” “It certainly won’t!” growled the coach. He held Hugh with a baleful gaze for a moment. Then: “What I ought to do with you is to tell you to clear your locker, Ordway. Got any good reason to advance why I shouldn’t?” “Why, yes, sir. I didn’t intend to be late and I won’t be late again. There was no way of notifying you or I’d have done it. I――I’m no end sorry, sir.” “Hm; regrets aren’t reasons, Ordway. Well, all right. But I’m hanged if I know why I’m bothering with you anyway. I don’t need you. What the dickens Hanrihan wished you on me for, I don’t know! Do you?” Hugh wisely remained silent. “Well, I shan’t want you this afternoon. You take the bench and watch. See if you can get your signals straightened out. Try to forget your social interests for a while!” Hugh walked to the bench very conscious of the amused expressions on the faces of his team-mates. He tried to look unruffled, but he knew that his cheeks were red, and when Brewster Longley, tossing a ball in his hands, met Hugh’s glance and drawled, “Hello, Royalty, old top! Was the blighter rude to you, what? My word, we’ll cut his bloomin’ acquaintance!” Hugh felt angry enough to fight. But he only squirmed in between Brunswick and Hersum and attentively studied his hands. Then the coaches called and the benches emptied, and Hugh, with a half-dozen other unfortunates, snuggled miserably into his sweater and philosophically tried to accept his fate. But it was hard luck, he thought, and while he couldn’t conscientiously blame Mr. Crowley for being wroth, it did seem to him that the “calling down” was punishment enough without dooming him to sit there on the bench and lose a whole afternoon’s work. So absorbed was he in self-pity and a mild resentment that he quite forgot about Mr. Fallow and his recent activities and was only reminded of them when someone took the seat beside him and a sympathetic voice inquired: “Isn’t he going to let you play, Hugh?” Hugh glanced up and shook his head. “Not today, Bert.” “Too bad! He’s a regular Turk, anyway. What made you late?” Hugh smiled. “Mr. Fallow.” “_What?_ You don’t mean――――” “Yes, I do, old chap. He came to the room just as I was starting over here.” “Great Scott! Did――did the money come? But of course it didn’t! Was he mad? What did he say? He didn’t――didn’t go to Charlie, did he?” Bert’s anxiety was so great that Hugh, although tempted, didn’t have the heart to prolong his suspense.