e birdies sing, Don! It
was a lovely punch! Help me up, will you?"

Don lifted him to the window-seat. "I'm horribly sorry, Tim," he said
abjectedly. "I--I didn't know what I was doing, chum! I wish--I wish
you'd hand me one, Tim! Go on, will you?"

Tim laughed weakly. "It's all right, Donald. Just give me a minute to
get my breath. Gee, things certainly spun around there for a second!"

"Where'd I hit you?"

"Right on the point of the jaw." Tim felt of the place gingerly. "No
harm done, though. It just sort of--jarred me a bit. What time is it?"

Don glanced at the tin alarm clock on his dresser. "Ten of seven," he
answered. "What's that got to do with it?"

"Well, you can't make the seven-one now, Donald, unless you fly all the
way, can you?"

"Oh!" said Don, rather blankly. "I--I'd forgotten!"

"Good thing," muttered Tim. "Wish you'd forgotten before! If anyone ever
tells you you're a nice good-natured, even-tempered chap, Don, don't you
believe him. You send 'em to me!"

"I didn't know I could lose my temper like that," replied the other
shamefacedly. "Timmy, I'm most awfully sorry about it. You believe that,
don't you?"

"Sure!" Tim laughed. "But I'll bet you're not half as sorry as you would
have been tomorrow if I'd let you go! Don, you're an awful ass, now
aren't you?"

Don nodded. "I guess I am, Timmy. And you're a--a brick, old man!"

"Huh! Any more trains to New York tonight?"

"There's one at twelve-something," answered Don, with a grin.

"Thinking of catching it?"

"Not a bit!"

"All right then." Tim dug in his pocket and then tossed the door-key
beside him on the cushion. "Better unpack your bag, you silly ass. Then
we'll go out and get some air. I sort of need it!"

Some three hours later Tim, tossing back his bed-clothes, exclaimed:
"Hello! What have we here?"

"That's just a note I wrote you," said Don hurriedly. "Hand it here,
Tim."

"I should say not! I'm going to read it!"

"No, please, Tim! It's just about two or three things I was going to
leave you! Hand it over, like a good chap!"

"Something you were going to leave me?" said Tim as he let Don wrest the
sheet of paper from him. "Oh, I see. Well,"--he felt carefully of the
lump on his chin--"I guess you left me enough as it is, dearie!"

CHAPTER XX

AMY APPEARS FOR THE DEFENCE

PRACTICE on Monday was a wretched affair. To be sure, many of the
fellows who had played in the Chambers game had been excused, but