of discord with one or two good voices ringing above it.
"Get gay, Pop, we don't win a championship every year!" cried Terence Golatly, running up the aisle. "By Jove, you played a great game," he added encouragingly—"sure you did."
But Hart could not "get gay." "I didn't do much," he answered. Then seeing a vacant seat he took it, and not till he sat down did he see that Heaphy was beside him.
"This is a great day for you, eh?" remarked the young-man-with-a-purpose, looking around half enviously as he extended his hand.
Hart muttered something in reply and then relapsed into silence—all at once he turned.
"I'm going to tell you something that I am not going to tell any one else," he said touching Heaphy on the arm. "I'm going to clear out to-morrow—going to leave college."
"And give it all up!" asked Heaphy in astonishment.
"Have to—please don't say anything—I'm going to pack to-night and leave first thing in the morning."
"Ah, don't do that!" exclaimed Heaphy.
