and two minutes of the
first overtime to play. Two minutes! It just seemed that our men could
do as they liked. The last time the whole forward lines came down, with
Macnamara and 'Jack' Johnson roaring and yelling like--like--I don't
know what. And they did the double-circle again! Think of it! And then
time was called. Oh, I am perfectly exhausted with this excitement!"
said Patricia, sinking back into her chair. "I don't believe I could go
down to that rink, not even for another game. It is terribly trying!"

At this moment Rupert Stillwell came in, full of enthusiasm for the
Cornwalls' scientific hockey, and with grudging praise for the local
team, deploring their roughhouse tactics. But he met a sharp and
unexpected check, for Adrien took him in hand, in her quiet, cool,
efficient manner.

"Roughhouse!" she said. "What do you mean exactly by that?"

"Well," said Rupert, somewhat taken aback, "for instance that charge of
Macnamara on Jumbo Larson at the last."

"I saw that quite clearly," said Adrien, "and it appeared to me
quite all right. It was Larson who made the most furious charge upon
Macnamara."

"Of course it was," cried Patricia, indignantly. "Jumbo deserved all he
got. Why, the way he mauled little Snoopy and Geordie Ross in the first
part of the game was perfectly horrid. Don't you think so, Hugh?"

"Oh, well, hockey is not tiddly-winks, you know, Patricia, and--"

"As if I didn't know that!" broke in the girl indignantly.

"And Jumbo and Macnab," continued Hugh, "really had to break up the
dangerous combination there. Of course that was a rotten assault on
Snoopy. It wasn't Jumbo's fault that he didn't break an ankle. As it
was, he gave him a very bad fall."

At this Rupert laughed scornfully. "Rot," he said, "the whole town is
laughing at all that bloody bandage business. It was a bit of stage
play. Very clever, I confess, but no hockey. I happen to know that
Maitland was quite hot about it."

But Hugh and Vic only laughed at him.

"He is a clever little beggar, is Snoopy," said Vic.

"But, meantime," said Mrs. Templeton, "where is Jack! He was going to be
here, was he not?"

"Feasting and dancing, I expect," said Rupert. "There is a big supper
on, given by the Mill management, and a dance afterwards--'hot time in
the old town,' eh?"

"A dance?" gasped Patricia. "A dance! Where?"

"Odd Fellows' Hall," said Rupert. "Want to go? I have tickets. Don't
care for that sort of thing myself.