“What was wrong to-day can be corrected to-morrow,” he ended. “I’m not expecting you fellows to play perfect football yet. I’m satisfied if you realize your mistakes when you make them, and I think you do. You won’t make me mad until you make the same mistakes the second time――or the third. When a player knows he’s wrong there’s hope for him: when he can’t see it, he’s useless. Some of you fellows showed real stuff to-day. You, Jackson, for one. You mixed only one signal, and you kept your team on the jump. And Ridgway held the center nicely. And two or three others of you deserve a good word; Bingham, for instance. There was no one within two yards of him when he got that ball after the blocked kick. Remember, fellows, that every loose ball has ‘Touchdown’ written on it in big red letters! Patch, you’d better let Farrell see that hand. Looks rather like a dislocation from the swelling. We’ll try to get started at two to-morrow, fellows, so that we can see some of the game. I want every one of you to watch the First Team players carefully every chance you get. Keep your eye on the men you’ll play against and see where they’re weak. And try to guess the plays before they start. Watch the backs and see what you can learn from the way they stand. Some players will give away the play time and again if you know the language of signs!” Clif wasn’t nearly as excited over his father’s visit on the morrow as he had expected to be. Of course he was awfully glad he was coming, and he wanted to see him a whole lot and there were loads of things he had saved up to tell him, but he went to sleep that Friday night as soon as his head touched the pillow and awoke the next morning to only the mildest thrill. Mr. Bingham rolled up the drive in the blue car about one o’clock, and Clif, who had hurried through his dinner, was awaiting him at the steps. Mr. Bingham said “Hello, son,” very casually, and Clif grinned, and said “Hello, dad” in much the same tone. But they shook hands very hard and, after the car had been parked at the end of the drive, they made their way to Number 17 with the older man’s arm about the boy’s shoulder. Clif was a little bit conscious of that arm as they passed the recreation room and Office, but he carried off the situation gracefully. If any of the fellows they met felt any inclination toward ridicule Clif’s sharp eyes failed to detect the fact. Generally what he read on their passing countenances was admiration for that well-built, handsome, smiling father of his, and Clif forgot his momentary embarrassment and was proud and pleased.