d saying nice
things, and the fellows beamed on him if they weren't well enough
acquainted to speak and insisted on having a full and detailed history
of that train-wreck if they were! Of course they all, masters and
students, meant well and wanted to show their admiration, but Don wished
they wouldn't. It made him feel horribly self-conscious, and feeling
self-conscious was distinctly uncomfortable. At breakfast table his
companions referred to last evening's incident laughingly and poked fun
at Don and enjoyed his embarrassment, but it wasn't difficult to tell
that Doctor Proctor's narrative had made a strong impression on them and
increased their liking for Don. When, just before Don had finished his
meal, Mr. Robey left the training-table and crossed the room toward him
he braced himself for another scene in which he would have to stand up
and be shaken by the hand, and possibly, and worst of all, listen to
some sort of an apology from the coach. But Don was spared, for Mr.
Robey only placed a hand on the back of his chair, included the rest of
the occupants of the table in his "Good-morning," and said carelessly:
"Gilbert, I wish you'd drop over to Mr. Conklin's office some time this
morning and see me. What time can you come?"

"Half-past ten, sir?"

"That will be all right, thanks."

The coach returned to his table, leaving Don wondering what was up.
Possibly, he thought, the coach wanted to make some sort of retraction
of his accusation of Saturday, although Don didn't believe that Mr.
Robey was the sort to funk a public apology. If it wasn't that it could
only be that he was to be offered his place on the team again. Don
sighed. That would be beastly, for he would have to tell more fibs, and
brand new ones, too, since not even a blind man would believe him ill
now! It was something of a coincidence that Don should run across Walton
in the corridor a few minutes later. Don was for passing by with no
recognition of the other, but Walton, with a smirk, placed himself
fairly in the way.

"Great stuff, Gilbert," he said with an attempted heartiness. "Some
hero, eh, what?"

"Drop it, Walton!" Don lowered his voice, for others were passing toward
the doorway. "And I'll thank you not to speak to me. You know my opinion
of you. Now shut up!"

Walton found nothing to say until it was too late. Don approached the
gymnasium after his ten o'clock recitation with lagging feet. He had
scant taste for the impending int