stand right up behind it every minute and make it feel that you have
confidence in it. I can't be here to see the game myself; I wish I
could; but I fully expect to take up the paper a week from tomorrow
morning and read that Brimfield has turned the trick again. And I expect
to read, too, that a notable feature of the contest was the
whole-souled, hearty support given the Maroon-and-Grey by their fellows!
That's all I've got to say to you. The team's going to do its part. You
do yours."

The next day dawned fair and warm, with an almost imperceptible haze in
the atmosphere, a veritable Indian summer day if ever there was one.
After dinner, a rather more hearty meal than was served to the football
players on week-days, Clint went back to his room with the noble
intention of writing a fine long letter to his father and mother. There
had been complaints from Cedar Run of late to the effect that Clint's
epistles were much too brief. Today he resolved to send at least eight
pages. He would tell them all about the fine weather and yesterday's
game--mentioning quite incidentally his own part in it--and the football
spirit that prevailed throughout the Academy and--and--About this time
Clint found himself smothering a yawn and viewing distastefully the
writing pad in front of him. Through the open windows came the sound of
voices borne on the still, soft air, and he pushed back his chair and
wandered to the casement. Across the field the Autumn woods were brown
and sunlit and their depths filled with a purple haze. Boys were
strolling in couples and groups across the yellowing turf. After a
minute Clint went back to the table, looked indecisively at the still
clean sheet of paper awaiting his pen, picked up his cap from the chair
and, with a guilty backward glance, stole out of the room. He felt very
much as though he was playing hookey, a feeling which perhaps naturally
increased his pleasure as he ran down the stairs and issued forth on
the Row.

Penny Durkin was seated on the steps with a text-book in hand, but Clint
noted that Penny's gaze was fixed on the distance. The fact acted as a
salve for Clint's conscience. If Penny couldn't study today, Penny who
had been known to play his fiddle even while he stuffed Greek or Latin
or mathematics, surely no one else could rightfully be expected to fix
his mind on letter-writing! Clint halted a moment on the walk and
Penny's gaze and thoughts came back from afar and he blinked up