"I've seen you pitch better," spoke Sid quietly, for he and several others were "sore" at Langridge, who plainly enough had not been in his usual good form. "Well, maybe. I can't be on edge all the while," and the pitcher laughed nervously. Tom, in the grandstand, was making his way down amid a bevy of pretty girls and wishing he had some one who would introduce him to them when he heard a voice call his name. He turned quickly and saw Madge Tyler in a bewilderingly pretty dress, her hair framing her face in a most bewitching manner, while her eyes were bright with the joy of youth and the fire thereof. "Too bad, wasn't it?" she asked sympathetically, holding out her hand to Tom. "I was so sorry for Mr. Langridge!" "Why Langridge?" asked Tom quickly. "Oh, well, because the pitcher seems to have to work so hard, and then to be defeated----" "Yes, it was unpleasant--the defeat," agreed Tom. "But are you going out?" "Yes, I came over with friends to see the game, but I seem to have missed them in the crush." "Then let me be your escort back to Haddonfield?" asked Tom. "I'm rather by my lonesome, too." "Oh, thank you. I dare say----" She paused and looked over the moving mass of students, boys and girls who were laughing happily or walking away dejectedly according to the colors they wore. Tom followed her gaze. He saw Langridge approaching and he knew that Miss Tyler had seen him also. "There's Mr. Langridge!" she exclaimed. "I wonder how he feels? He promised to meet me after the game." Tom took a sudden resolve. He did not stop to think that it might be a foolish one. He was actuated solely by what he argued to himself was a platonic interest in the pretty girl at his side. He had known her in childhood, he knew her people, and they were old friends of his folks. Of late Tom had heard certain rumors about Langridge, nothing serious as rumors about college students go, but enough to make Tom glad that, in the case of his sisters, Langridge could not get to know them. It was therefore with somewhat the same feeling that he might have warned his sisters that he spoke to Miss Tyler. "You and Mr. Langridge are quite friendly," he said in what he intended to be a light tone. "Oh, yes," came the frank answer. "I like him immensely. I like all college boys--when they're nice," she finished with a little laugh. Tom's face was grave, and she saw it. With a girl's intuition she felt that there was something in the air, and, girl-like, she wanted to know what it was. "Shouldn't I like him?" she demanded with an arch look. "Well--er--that is--no, Miss Madge!" burst out Tom, speaking more loudly than he had intended to. "You won't mind me speaking about it, for I've known you so many years." "Oh, I'm not so ancient as all that!" exclaimed the girl rather pertly.