erview and would have gladly avoided it
if such a thing had been possible. But he didn't see any way out of it
and he heard the big door bang to behind him with a sinking heart. Why,
he hadn't even thought up any new excuse!

Mr. Robey and Mr. Conklin, the athletic director, were both in the
latter's room when Don knocked at the half-opened door. Mr. Conklin said
"Good-morning" and then followed it with: "I've got something to attend
to on the floor, Robey, if you'll excuse me," and went out, closing the
door behind him. Don wished he had stayed. He took the chair vacated by
the director and faced Coach Robey with as much ease as he could assume,
which was very little. The coach began without much preamble.

"I didn't ask you over here to talk about last night, Gilbert, or to
offer you any apology for what I said on the field last Saturday. I
don't believe much in spoken apologies. If I'm wrong I show it and
there's no mistake about it. I think I was wrong in your case, Gilbert.
And I'll say so, if you like, very gladly, and act so if you'll prove
it."

"I don't want any apology, sir," answered Don. "I guess you were right
enough."

"Well, that's what I want to find out. What _was_ the trouble, Gilbert?"

"Why, just what I said, Coach. I--I didn't feel very fit and I didn't
think it would be any use playing, feeling like I did. If you don't feel
well you can't play very well, and so I thought I'd say so. I didn't
mind being dropped, sir. I deserved it. And--and that's quite all
right." Don got up, his eyes shifting to the door.

"Wait a minute! Let's get the truth of this. You're lying, aren't you?"

Don tried to look indignant and failed, tried to look hurt and failed
again. Then he gave it up and dropped his gaze before the searching eyes
of the other. "I'm feeling some better now," he muttered.

Coach Robey laughed shortly. "Gilbert, you can't lie worth a cent! Now,
look here. I'm your friend. Why not come across and tell me what's up? I
know you weren't sick. Danny gave you a clean bill of health that
morning. And I know you haven't got any nerves to speak of. There's
something else, Gilbert. Now what is it?"

"Nothing, sir."

"Then why did you act that way?"

"I--I just didn't want to play."

"Didn't want to play! Why not?"

"I wasn't doing very well, and it was pretty hard work, and there was
Walton after the place, too. He could play better than I could."

"Who told you so? Walton?" asked the coa