Save that the ceiling was considerably higher than in the upstairs rooms, Loring Deane’s quarters were not different from Clif’s at first glance. There were two beds, two chiffoniers, and the usual number and variety of chairs. What was missing, however, were the window-seats, for here the two big windows went almost to the floor. Then, too, there was a wash stand, a feature lacking in the regular bedrooms. Loring was seated in an armchair close to one of the windows, and for once the almost inevitable rug was missing. Clif’s gaze fell instantly from the boy’s face to his legs. They looked like any other fellow’s, he thought in some surprise; and then he noticed that there was something just a little awkward in the way the feet were placed. Most fellows cross their legs when at ease, but Loring’s were not crossed, and the well-polished brown shoes rested flat on the rug rather as though they were somehow independent of the relaxed form in the chair. Loring saw Clif’s downward glance and rightly interpreted the expression of interest on the visitor’s countenance, but he only said: “Take the easy chair, Bingham. Wattles, shove it over here, will you? You needn’t have bothered about the paper. Are you quite through with it?” “Yes, thanks.” Clif was resolutely keeping his eyes away from his host. “You look pretty comfortable here, Deane.” “Yes, the room is really very nice. We could do with a little more space, but we’re not suffering. Help yourself to the paper, Wattles. Wattles, you see, Bingham, is always restless until he gets the paper and learns the football scores.” “Really?” Clif looked across at the man with some surprise. “So you’re a football bug――er――Wattles.” “Oh, it isn’t our game he’s interested in,” Loring laughed. “What he wants to read is that the Stoke Pogis Hotspurs won from the Lancashire Argonauts or the Welsh Terriers beat the Bermin’am Brindles.” “Oh, I see,” said Clif. “Over in England, eh?” “Yes, sir,” replied Wattles gravely. “It’s the game I know best, Mr. Bingham.” “Don’t you like our game?” “Oh, yes, sir, it’s most interesting, but I don’t understand it so very well yet. It seems just a bit confusing to the――the layman, sir.” Loring chuckled, and Clif, smiling, said: “Oh, but you’ll soon get the hang of it, Wattles, and be cheering your head off for us.” “Very likely, sir, and I’m sure I hope you will be successful, Mr. Bingham. I have been giving a great deal of attention and study to the game, but――” and here Wattles smiled reproachfully――“Mister Loring isn’t much help, sir.” Clif looked inquiringly at Loring. Loring was instantly indignant. “Why, how you talk, Wattles! I’ve explained and explained to you, you thankless beggar!” Wattles’s discreet smile appeared again. “Yes, Mister Loring, you have, but recently when I asked you why one of the young gentlemen stayed so far away from the scrum――” “Scrimmage, Wattles.”