half of it to get through the
winter."

Bailly lighted his pipe, stretched his legs, and pondered.

"You're giving the laundry up," he said, finally, "because--because it
savours of service?"

George didn't get angry. He couldn't with Squibs in the first place;
and, in the second, hadn't that thought been at the bottom of his mind
ever since Dalrymple's remark about dirty hands?

"I don't need it any more," he said, "and I'd like to have you dispose
of it where it will do the most good."

His voice hardened.

"But to somebody who wants to climb, not to any wild-eyed fellow who
thinks he sees salvation in pulling down."

"You've just returned from the world," Bailly said, "and all you've
brought is three thousand dollars and a bad complexion. I wish you'd
directed your steps to a coal mine. You'd have come back richer."

XXIII

Goodhue got in a few hours after George. There was a deep satisfaction
in their greetings. They were glad to be together, facing varsity
football, looking ahead to the pleasures and excitements of another
year, but George would have been happier if he could have shared his
room-mate's unconcern about the clubs. Of course, Goodhue was settled.
Did he know about George? George was glad the other couldn't guess how
carefully he had calculated the situation--to take the best, or a
dignified stand against all clubs with Allen getting behind him with all
the poor and unknown men. But wasn't that exactly Wandel's game?

Stringham and Green were glad enough to see him, but Green thought he
had been thoughtless not to have kept a football in the office for
kicking goals through transoms.

It was good to feel the vapours of the market-place leaving his lungs
and brain. Goodhue and he, during the easy preliminary work, resumed
their runs. He felt he hadn't really gone back. If he didn't get hurt he
would do things that fall that would drive the perplexed frown from
Bailly's forehead, that would win Betty's applause and Sylvia's
admiration. Whatever happened he was going to take care of her brother
in the Yale game.

Betty was rather too insistent about that. She had fallen into the habit
again of stopping George and Goodhue on their runs for a moment's
gossip.

"See here, Betty," Goodhue laughed once, "you're rather too interested
in this Eli Planter."

George had reached the same conclusion--but why should it bother him? It
was logical that Betty and Lambert should be drawn together. H