she
hesitated, delicately, "while we know that money isn't everything, you
are going to have far more to offer a girl, some day, than poor Jimsy
King."

"And less," said Carter Van Meter.

He found Honor a little constrained at their next meeting and he hurried
to put her at her old time ease with him. He steered the talk on to the
coming football game and Honor was herself. Los Angeles High School,
champion of Southern California, was to meet Greenmount, the northern
champion, and nothing else in the world mattered very much to her and to
Jimsy.

"It's so perfect, Carter, to have it come in Jimsy's last year,--to win
the State Championship for L. A. just before he leaves."

"Sure of winning?"

"It will be pretty stiff going. They're awfully good, Greenmount. Not as
good as we are, on the whole, but they've got a punter--Gridley--who's a
perfect _wizard_! If they can get within a mile of our goal, he can put
it over! But--we've got to win. We've simply got to--and 'You can't beat
L. A. High!'"

She went to watch football practice every afternoon and Carter nearly
always went with her. In the evenings Jimsy came over for her help with
his lessons. He had studied harder and better, this last year; his fine
brain was waking, catching up with his body, but he was busier than
ever, too, and his "Skipper" had still to be on deck. He was discovered,
that last year, to have an unsuspected talent, Jimsy King. He could act.
His class-play was an ambitious one, a late New York success, a play of
sport and youngness, and Jimsy played the lead. "No," the pretty Spanish
teacher said, "he didn't play that part; he _was_ it!" It was going to
be fine for him at Stanford, Honor's mothering thought raced ahead. The
more he had to do, the more things he was interested in....

He came in grinning a few nights before the championship game. "Say,
Skipper, what do you think they gave me on that essay? A _B_. A measly
_B_. Made me so sore I darn near told 'em who wrote it!"

"Jimsy! You wrote it yourself, really. I just smoothed it up a little."

"Yep, just a little! Well, either they're wise, or they just figured it
couldn't be a top-notcher if I'd written it!" He cast himself on the
couch. "Gee, Skipper, I can't work to-night! I'm a dying man! That
dinner Carter bought me last night----"

"Jimsy! You didn't--break training?"

"No. But I skated pretty close to the edge. You know, it's funny, but
when I'm out with Carter I feel l