big game to-morrow afternoon. That was a
tragedy. All the autumn the game with Chancellor's Hill had been held
before him by the old boys as the last word in thrills; for a week there
had been talk of nothing else. You would have thought that the final
whistle of that game was going to bring the heavens crashing down on
creation. No one seemed to be planning anything beyond that Saturday
afternoon. The general notion seemed to be that if The Towers won, the
rapture of that victory would make any trial thereafter bearable; and if
The Towers lost--well, torture and death would, in comparison, be sweet.

And now, he, Dick Harrington, who loved thrills as much as any man, was
not to see the game. For days his nerves had been at a sharp tension of
anticipation. Now suddenly they relaxed, leaving him weak and
despairing. Life had lost its meaning. Of course, the game would be held
anyway, and there would be the excitement of getting the telegraphic
reports at the end of the periods; but the real thrills would all be at
Chancellor's Hill; and he would be at The Towers.

He luxuriated in misery; he reveled in despair. Just because of a bit of
a spread with Sammy Oakes and Chet Burrowes, just because of one
unprepared lesson! Of course there had been other spreads before this
fatal one; and of course there had been one or two unprepared lessons
also--therefore the original twenty demerits. But why ruin a boy's
happiness forever because of a missed recitation?

Dick Harrington was exceedingly sorry for himself.

His indignation was violent while it lasted but it did not last long,
for there was sharp regret of another sort hovering all the while at the
rim of his consciousness. It was a regret not so pleasant to indulge as
the other. He had been made the butt--the laughing stock--of the algebra
class. He tingled and flushed at the memory of it. Bill Burton had also
flunked his lesson; but Burton had been able to say that he had at least
prepared it, and the whole proceeding had been dignified and everybody
loved and admired Burton all the more because with all his greatness he
was just like other boys about lessons. But he, Dick Harrington, had
been disgraced. And in the presence of William Burton!

That, after all, was the hardest thing to swallow. That was worse than
missing the game with Chancellor's Hill. For Dick Harrington worshiped
Bill Burton, because he was physically and socially everything that Dick
never could hop