The principal’s residence was a small two-storied brick cottage standing back of Weeks Hall, and hidden from sight by a grove of trees, through which the graveled driveway wound in and out. At half-past seven Hansel found himself standing before the front door. Its stained glass in strange shades of green, yellow, and brown added to his depression. He had never spoken to Dr. Lambert and, like most fellows, stood very much in awe of him, and his present mission was one which might not, he believed, please the doctor. A white-aproned maid admitted him to a tiny library, asked his name and disappeared. Ten minutes by the old clock in the hall passed; then footsteps sounded without, and the doctor stood at the doorway.

“This is Dana, I believe? I have the name correctly?” he asked. Hansel murmured assent.

“Come this way, please,” said the principal. Hansel followed him across the hall and into the office, a plainly furnished room with unpapered walls, against which a few photographs of the school hung. The doctor motioned Hansel to a chair, seated himself at the broad-topped desk, and looked politely attentive.

The principal was a small-framed man of some fifty-five years of age, dressed habitually in a suit of smooth black cloth with a long-tailed coat. His countenance was neither repellent nor attractive, but Hansel thought it wholly lacking in sympathy, and his embarrassment grew each moment. The doctor passed his hand slowly over his drooping mustache, which, like his hair, was somewhat grizzled, and coughed softly.

“You—ah—wished to see me?” he asked finally.

“No, sir,” answered Hansel, “that is, yes, sir, if you please.” After this unfortunate beginning he relapsed again into embarrassed silence, casting about wildly in his mind for the right words to introduce his subject. Finally, when the expression of surprise on the principal’s face had deepened to one of annoyance, Hansel took the plunge.

“It’s about Phin, sir,” he blurted.

“Phinsur? Who’s Phinsur?” asked the doctor with a frown.

“Phin Dorr, I mean.”

“Ah, yes, Dorr; hum; what about Dorr?”

“His mother’s sick, sir.”

“Indeed? I am very sorry to hear of it.”

“And Phin has had to stay at home and look after her.”

“At home? He has left the academy?”

“No, sir, he lives in the village with his mother, Mrs. Freer.”

“Really? I was not aware of that.”

“Nobody was, sir.” And Hansel, with much floundering, explained. When he had finished, the doctor nodded gravely in token of understanding.

“A very devoted mother, Dana, but ill advised. I do not approve of parents coming here to live with their sons. May I ask what it is you want me to do?”

“Why, sir,” answered Hansel, gaining confidence, “you see Phin has been obliged to be absent from recitations for two or three days, and he is trying for a scholarship, and he is afraid he won’t get it on account of being absent.”

“And he has asked you to intercede for him?”

“No, sir, he doesn’t know I’ve come to see you, but he’s a particular friend of mine, sir, and I don’t want him to lose the scholarship. I thought if you knew why he was absent you would—would make allowances.”

“So I will,” answered the principal gravely. “So I will. I don’t approve of the arrangement whereby Mrs.—Freer, you said?—whereby Mrs. Freer is living in the village, but that is another matter. You may tell Dorr, if you wish, that he will be given every opportunity to make up what recitations he has missed.” He drew a sheet of paper toward him and wrote on it in slow, careful characters. “Dorr, I believe, is a very worthy lad, and he should be congratulated on having such devoted friends.”

“Thank you, doctor,” murmured Hansel. He arose, but the other motioned him back.

“While you are here,” said the principal, “I should like to discuss another matter with you. I understand from Mr. Ames that you are one of the prime movers in a—ah—movement to alter the athletic arrangements here?”

“I suppose I am, sir.”

“Kindly tell me what it is you wish to accomplish.”

And Hansel told him, not very fluently, I fear, and the principal heard him through with unchanging countenance, his eyes from under their bushy eyebrows scrutinizing the boy’s face every instant. When Hansel had finished, the doctor nodded thoughtfully once or twice.

“I begin to understand. Your position is well taken, it seems to me, but I do not very clearly understand athletics. The athlete has always seemed to me to be a—ah—privileged character, with a set of ethics quite his own. But you, I understand, apply the ethics governing ordinary affairs to him.” The doctor’s voice seemed slightly tinged with irony. “Am I right?”

“It seems to me,” answered Hansel boldly, “that what would be dishonest in the schoolroom or in business would be equally dishonest in sport.”

“Possibly, possibly,” answered his host with a wave of his hand which seemed to thrust argument aside. “And this boy, Cameron, whom you mention as a specific case? You are certain that his tuition is paid by the—by his fellows?”

“Paid from the football expense fund contributed by the fellows; yes, sir.”

“And that fact, in your estimation, should prohibit him from playing the game of football?”

“With other schools, sir.”

“But if the—ah—other schools do not offer objections?”

“I don’t suppose they know what the facts are, sir.”

“I see. Then you think that if the other schools knew they would object?”

“I think so, sir; I think they would protest him.”

“In which case——?”

“Why, then it would be up to—I mean, sir, that in such a case it would lay with you to say whether or not he could play.”

“Thank you. You have given me quite a good deal of information on a subject of which I have been, I fear, inexcusably ignorant. I begin to think that I have been mistaken, that athletic ethics are much the same as any other. Strange, very strange!” He arose and Hansel followed his example. At the door he held out his hand. Something almost approaching a smile softened the immobile features. “Good night, Dana. I am glad to have made your acquaintance. We shall meet again, doubtless.”

Outside Hansel took a deep breath of relief.

“Thunder!” he muttered with a shiver, “that’s like visiting in an ice chest! I wonder, though, if he is going to take our side!”

Then he hurried off to keep his appointment with Harry.

The next afternoon, Friday, he called again at Phin’s. The door was opened by a stout, placid-faced woman in a blue-striped dress and white apron.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Whitney,” said Hansel. “Is Phin in?”

“Yes, but he is asleep, I think. He didn’t go to bed until about midnight, and I haven’t waked him yet; he seemed to need the rest.”

“Oh, well, don’t call him, then. How is Mrs. Freer?”

“Much better this morning. The doctor thinks she’ll soon be around again now. She had some beef tea this noon.”

“That’s fine.” Hansel lowered his voice for fear the patient upstairs might hear. “Mrs. Whitney, some of us fellows at the school are going to pay you, so don’t you take anything from Phin or his mother, if they want you to, will you? You see, they’re rather short of ready money just now, and we want to help Phin out a bit.”

“I understand,” said the nurse, with a smile. “I’ll look to you for my money.”

“Yes, but don’t you leave until the doctor says you may; Phin may want to send you off before it’s time, you know.”

“Very well, I won’t pay any attention to him,” said Mrs. Whitney.

“That’s right. And please tell Phin, when he wakes up, that I called and wanted to see him to tell him that it’s all right about the scholarship.”

“About——?”

“The scholarship; he’ll understand.”

“Very well, I’ll tell him,” answered the nurse. “I hope it’s good news, for the poor boy’s just about worn out.”

“It is,” Hansel assured her. “Good-by.”

The next morning Phin was back at school, and Hansel had to listen to his thanks when the two met in the library at the noon hour.

“Oh, rot!” said Hansel finally. “To hear you talk one would think I’d taken some trouble. It was the easiest thing in the world.”

“Maybe,” answered Phin, his pale, thin face very earnest, “but it was a mighty kind thing to do, Hansel, and I want you——”

“La-la, la-la-la, la-la!” sang Hansel, to drown the other’s protestations. “Phin, you annoy me! Shut up! Who’s going to win this afternoon?”

Phin smiled, shook his head, and took a generous bite of the sandwich he held in his hand. “You ought to know better than I,” he replied. “I feel as though I hadn’t been here for a month. What do they say?”

“Say we’ll win, but I’m afraid we won’t. And I feel like—like a traitor, Phin. If Warren beats us—!” He shook his head sadly.

“Heroic measures are sometimes necessary,” responded Phin, with his mouth full. “Whichever way it turns out, you won’t be to blame.”

“I suppose not, but it’s plaguey hard to see your team beaten, and know that you’ve helped beat it!”

And, as it turned out, that was just what Hansel had to see, for after the first fifteen minutes of play, during which Beechcroft, having secured the ball on the kick-off, advanced from her ten-yard line by steady rushes to Warren’s goal line, and from there sent Bert over for a touchdown, from which Cotton kicked goal, Warren showed herself the superior of the home team. For the rest of that half she played on the defensive, and the period ended with the score 5 to 0. But of the last half there was a different tale to tell.

Beechcroft kicked off, and Warren’s left half back ran the ball in thirty yards before he was finally downed on his forty-five-yard line. Then came a try at the center of the light blue, which netted a scant two feet, and the Beechcroft adherents shouted their glee. But that was almost the last opportunity they had for such shouting. On the next play the Warren quarter back reeled off twenty yards around Beechcroft’s right end, and Hansel, watching from the side-line, clinched his hands and called himself names. Warren was quick to see her advantage. Time and again the right end was tried, and always for a gain until, seven minutes from the beginning of play. Warren’s full back was pushed over for a touchdown. Those seven minutes comprised a fair sample of the subsequent proceedings. Cutler was taken out, and Forrester, a second team man, was put in his place. But, although Forrester did better work than his predecessor, Beechcroft’s defense against end runs was woefully weak, and gain after gain was made around her right side. At the left end of her line King did good work and, although Warren’s nimble quarter got around there once or twice for short gains, he had little to reproach himself with. Had the other end been as difficult for the opponent, the final score would have been different. As it was it was 17 to 6, and it was a gloomy lot of fellows that climbed the terrace after the last whistle had blown. As for Hansel, he had been in his room for fifteen minutes then; he had not had the heart to stay and watch the contest after the first score of the second half; and not for much money would he have faced at that moment the looks of the Beechcroft players. He believed himself to be in the right, only—the right looked all wrong!

At five o’clock Bert came in, gloomy and disheartened. After a glance at Hansel, who was pretending to study in the window seat, he threw down his cap and seated himself at the table. Presently Hansel heard the hurried scratching of a pen, and looked across at his roommate. Bert, cheek on hand, was writing feverishly, scowling darkly the while. The clock ticked annoyingly loud. Hansel cleared his throat, opened his mouth, closed it again, and turned back to his book. The pen scratched on and on, and the clock ticked louder than ever. Finally, with a rush of blood to his cheeks, Hansel put down his book.

“Bert,” he said softly, “I’m awfully sorry.”

“I dare say!” was the bitter reply.

“I am, though; I feel like a low-down mucker!”

“Well,” growled Bert, “how do you suppose I feel?”

“It wasn’t your fault,” answered Hansel. “You played the swellest sort of a game; so did all the fellows; but I—well, maybe it wouldn’t have made any difference if I had played, but I can’t help——”

“Difference!” cried Bert scathingly. “It would have made the difference between a defeat and a victory! That’s all the difference it would have made!”

“I’m sorry,” muttered Hansel again.

“Much good it does. How do you spell resignation? Two s’s or one?”

“One; r-e-s-i-g— What are you doing?” Hansel leaped from the seat and hurried across the room.

“Resigning,” answered Bert gloomily.

“What? Resigning the captaincy? Bert, you’re not!”

“I am though. What’s the use of trying? Let ’em call me a squealer if they like! I’m through with it!”

“You shan’t do it!” cried Hansel.

“Who’s going to stop me?” growled Bert.

“I am! Look here, Bert, you can’t do that! Think what it will mean! Who’s going to take your place? It will play hob with the team; there won’t be a ghost of a show to win from Fairview!”

“There isn’t now,” replied the other bitterly. “You’re a nice one to talk that way, aren’t you?”

“I can’t help it,” answered Hansel stubbornly. “You mustn’t do it, Bert; it isn’t right! It’s your duty to——”

“Oh, cut it out!” flamed Bert. “Don’t you lecture me about duty! You who didn’t care enough whether we won or didn’t win to stand by us when we needed you! You lost the game to-day; we didn’t! Think about that a while and don’t talk duty to me, or tell me what I ought or ought not to do!”

He turned again to his note, signed his name with a sputter of ink, and blotted it.

“Are you going to send that?” asked Hansel quietly.

“Yes.”

“Do you know what it means?”

“Did you know when you refused to play?”

Hansel was silent. Bert folded the note, thrust it into an envelope and addressed it to Mr. Ames. Then,

“I’ll make a bargain with you, Bert,” said Hansel.

“What sort of a bargain?” asked the other suspiciously.

“If you won’t send that I’ll report for work to-morrow and I’ll play, Cameron or no Cameron! What do you say?”

Bert stared a moment, and Hansel saw hope take the place of gloom on his face.

“Do you mean it?” he asked huskily.

“Yes,” answered Hansel. “Here’s my hand on it.”

Bert took it, laughed uncertainly, rubbed a hand across his eyes and pushed back his chair. Then he tore up the note and dropped the pieces in the wastebasket.

“Let’s go to dinner,” he said.