slipping between the boor and Ralph, whose color was rising dangerously fast.
Will pushed aside Grif's pocketbook, linked an arm in that of Ralph, and led him from the building, winking encouragingly to his mates.
He came back to the group in about a quarter of an hour, but alone.
"Fixed it?" inquired half a dozen eager voices.
"Yes, I've fixed it," said Cheever, though none too cordially. "He's going to leave us, fellows, and it's too bad! He'll play the game this afternoon, but that's the last."
"What's up?" put in Grif Farrington, in his usual coarsely inquisitive way.
"You was nearly up—or down!" snapped Cheever tartly. "You nearly spoiled things for us. Money isn't everything, if you have got lots of it, and haven't the sense to know that it's an insult to offer to buy what Ralph Fairbanks would give to his friends for nothing, or not at all!"
When the game was called at two o'clock, Ralph was on hand.
He was the object of more than ordinary interest to his own and the opposition club that afternoon. The word had gone the rounds that he had practically resigned from service, and the
