Barclay looked doubtful. "The rector's pretty strict with the masters as well as with the boys. Especially when a man has charge of a dormitory.

I somehow think it wouldn't be wise to try it,-your first term."

"I suppose not. Well, I shall certainly read the football columns from now on."

"I wonder," remarked Barclay, "if we couldn't get the Harvard Freshmen up here to play a practice game with our School eleven-say, the week before the St. John's game? It would be good practice for them as well as for us; three or four years ago the Freshmen played here."

"Oh, I wish we could." Irving's face lighted up. "I'll write to my brother, and perhaps he can arrange it with the captain and manager."

"I'll talk it over with Collingwood first," said Barclay. "And then we'll proceed officially; and you can pull any additional wires that are possible through your brother." He rose to go. "I shouldn't wonder," he added, "if that brother of yours turned out to be a useful a.s.set for you here."

"I should prefer to stand on my own legs," said Irving. "I shan't advertise it round that I have a football brother."

"Oh, it won't be necessary for you to do that; things have a way of leaking out." Barclay laughed as he took his departure.

As it happened, the next day Louis Collingwood, the captain of the School eleven, went to Barclay to consult him about the outlook for the season.

"It seems to me we'll have a good School team," said Collingwood, "but no second eleven capable of giving them hard practice-the kind they'll need to beat St. John's. If we could only arrange one or two games with outside teams, to put us into shape-"

"I was thinking of that," said Barclay. "I wonder if we mightn't get the Harvard Freshmen up here. They have a good eleven, apparently."

"Yes, awfully good, from all that the papers say. Don't you suppose their schedule is filled up?"

"It may be-but perhaps they could give us a date. Suppose you come over to my house this evening and we'll send a letter off to their captain.

And I'm sure"-Barclay threw the remark out in the most casual manner-"Mr. Upton will be glad to approach them for us through his brother."

"His brother? Who's that?"

"Why, didn't you know? His brother plays left end on the team-"

"Kiddy Upton's brother on the Harvard Freshmen! No!"

"Whose brother?"

"Mr. Upton's, I meant to say." Louis grinned. "Is he really, Mr.

Barclay?"

"I'm rather surprised you didn't know it. But I guess Mr. Upton is the kind that doesn't talk much."

"I should think he'd have let that out."

"Well, he let it out to me. I suspect-though he hasn't told me-that he's helping to put his brother through college. And his success in doing that will naturally depend largely on his success or failure here as a master."

"You mean-keeping his job?"

Barclay nodded. "Yes. Oh, I don't suppose there's any real doubt about that. He's a perfectly competent teacher, isn't he? You know; you have a cla.s.s with him."

"Ye-es," said Louis, slowly. "The trouble has been, the fellows horse him a good deal-though not quite so much as they did."

"They'll get over that when they know him better," remarked Barclay.

He knew that Louis Collingwood went away feeling much impressed, and he was pretty sure he had done Irving a good turn.

It was in the noon half-hour, while Collingwood was holding this interview with Mr. Barclay, that Westby, reading the Harvard news in his Boston paper, went giggling into Morrill's room.

"There's a fellow named Upton playing on the Freshmen." He showed Morrill the name. "Let's get a crowd and go in to Kiddy; I'll get him rattled."

"How?" asked Morrill.

"Oh, ask him if this fellow's a relation of his, and say I supposed of course he must be-such athletic prowess, and all that sort of thing; with a crowd standing there giggling you know how rattled he'll get."

"All right," said Morrill, who was an earnest admirer of Westby's wit.

So they collected Dennison and Smythe and Allison and Carroll and Scarborough, and marched up the corridor-humorously tramping in step-to Irving's door. There Westby, newspaper in hand, knocked. Irving opened the door.

"Mr. Upton, sir," began Westby, "sorry to disturb you, sir." The boys all began to grin, and Irving saw that he was in for some carefully planned attack. "I was just reading my morning paper, sir, and I wanted to ask you what relation to you the man named Upton is that's playing on the Harvard Freshman eleven, sir."

Irving's eyes twinkled; if ever the enemy had been delivered into his hands!

"What makes you think he's a relation?" he asked, with an a.s.sumption of cold dignity.

"Oh, we all feel sure he must be, sir. Of course your well-known and justly famous interest in all athletic sports, sir-not to say your prowess in them, sir-it's natural to suppose that any athlete named Upton would belong to the same family with you, sir."

The boys were all on the broad grin; Westby's manner was so expansively courteous, his compliments were so absurdly urbane, that Irving threw off his air of coldness and adopted a jaunty manner of reply which was even more misleading.

"Oh, well, if you've been so clever as to guess it, Westby," he said, "I don't mind telling you-it's my brother."

Westby bestowed on his confederates-quite indifferent as to whether Irving detected it or not-his slow, facetious wink. He returned then to his victim and in his most gamesome manner said,-

"I supposed of course it was your brother, sir. Or at least I should have supposed so, except that I didn't know you had a brother at Harvard. Wasn't it rather-what shall I say?-_peu aimable_ not to have taken us, your friends, into your confidence? Would you mind telling us, sir, what your brother's first name is?"

"My brother's first name? Lawrence."

"Hm!" said Westby, referring to his newspaper. "I find him set down here as 'T. Upton.' But I suppose that is a misprint, of course."

"I suppose it must be," agreed Irving.

"Newspapers are always making mistakes, aren't they?" said Westby. "Such careless fellows! We'd like awfully to hear more about your brother Lawrence, Mr. Upton."

The broad grin broke into a snicker.

"Why, I don't know just what there is to tell," Irving said awkwardly.

"What does he look like, sir? Does he resemble you very much?-I mean, apart from the family fondness for athletics."

Irving's lips twitched; Westby was enjoying so thoroughly his revenge!

And the other boys were all stifling their amus.e.m.e.nt.

"We are said not to look very much alike," he answered. "He is of a somewhat heavier build."