the occupants
shouted and waved their hats--and left the field to silence and despair.

But still St. Timothy's did not abandon the scene of their defeat. They
waited loyally in front of the athletic house to welcome and console
their team when it should emerge. Collingwood led the players out, and
the crowd gave them a good one.

Collingwood said, with a smile, though in an unsteady voice, "Much
obliged, fellows," and waved his hand.

Then the crowd dispersed; slowly they all walked away.

That evening, as Irving was about to leave his room to go down to
supper, a boy brought him a telegram. It was from his brother; it said,--

"We licked them, twelve to six. Feeling fine. Lawrence."

At the table Irving tried not to appear too happy. He apologized for his
state of mind and told the boys the cause; those who, like Carroll, were
Harvard sympathizers derived a little cheer from the news, and the
others seemed indifferent to it. Westby was not there. The training
table was vacant, and at the other tables were empty chairs where
substitutes on the team had sat. Mrs. Barclay was entertaining the
football players.

"I wish I was breaking training there," said Carroll to Irving; "she has
the most wonderful food."

In the discussion of the game there seemed to be little disposition to
blame Westby.

"After all," said Blake, "he was only a sub, and he never got so very
much practice in handling punts. I don't think fellows ought to be sore
on him."

"No, he's just sore on himself," said Carroll.

"It's hard luck, anyhow; except for that one thing he played mighty
well."

The mail boy passed, leaving a letter for Irving. It was in his uncle's
handwriting; and his uncle never wrote to him; it was his aunt who kept
him posted on all the news of home. Did this mean that she was ill--or
that some disaster had befallen?

Irving determined that if it was bad news, he would reserve it until he
should be alone; he put the letter in his pocket and waited anxiously
for the meal to end.

When he was again in his room, he tore open the envelope and read this
letter:--

DEAR IRVING,--I have not helped you and Lawrence much financially. I
thought it would do you and him no harm to try out your own
resources. But I always meant to give you a lift whenever it should
seem wise, and whenever a lift could be most advantageously
arranged.

Your father was never able to lay up any money; his work