ked Irving if he knew of any reason why Westby should be
transferred and told him that the boy had asked for the change.

"Oh, it's just between him and me," said Irving wearily. "We don't get
on."

"Then you'd like to have him go, too?"

"No, I wouldn't. When he's his natural self, I like him. And I haven't
yet given up the hope that some time we'll get together."

He met Westby's coldness with coolness. But on the morning of the St.
John's game, after breakfast, he drew Westby aside. He held a letter in
his hand.

"Westby," he said, "I don't know that you will care to hear it, but I
have a message for you from my brother."

Westby cast down his eyes and reddened. "I don't suppose I shall care to
hear it," he said with a humility that amazed Irving. "But go ahead--give
it to me, Mr. Upton."

"I don't quite understand--he just asked me to say to you that he hopes
you'll get your chance in the game to-day. He felt you were rather cut
up by your hard luck in the Freshman game."

"Didn't he--isn't he--" Westby hesitated for an uncomfortable moment, then
blurted out, "Isn't he sore at me, Mr. Upton?"

"What for?"

"For saying about him what I did--about his trying to lay Collingwood out
when he tackled."

"He doesn't know you said it."

"Oh! Didn't you tell him?"

"No. The criticism was unjust--there was no use in repeating it."

"It was unjust." Westby had lowered his voice. "I am very much ashamed,
Mr. Upton."

"That's all right," said Irving. He took Westby's hand. "I hope too
you'll get your chance in the game."

"Thank you." Westby spoke humbly. "I hope if I do, I won't make a mess
of it again."

That game was far different in color and feeling from the one with the
Freshmen on the Saturday before. Long before it began the boys of St.
John's with their blue banners and flags and the boys of St. Timothy's
with their red were ranged on opposite sides of the field, hurling
defiant, challenging cheers across at one another; for St. Timothy's a
band, in which Scarborough beat the drum and was director, paraded back
and forth; the little boys were already hopping up and down and
trembling and squealing with excitement; already their little voices
were almost gone.

Irving knew that to himself alone was this occasion one of less moving
interest than that of the preceding Saturday; as he stood and looked on
at the waving red and the waving blue and later at the struggle that was
being waged in the midd