that his father had once and for all forbidden Jan to play football with Master Evan, because he played so roughly.
"No, sir."
"You were not allowed?"
"No, sir."
"Do you know why?"
"No, sir."
"Well, I think I do," said the doctor, rising. "And you mustn't play here, either, at any rate for the present."
Jan shot upright on the sofa.
"Your heart isn't strong enough," said the doctor.
"My heart's all right!" cried Jan, indignantly.
"Perhaps you'll allow me to be the best judge of that," returned the doctor. "You may go back to your house, and I shall send a line to Mr. Heriot. There's no reason why you should lie up; this is Saturday, you'll be quite fit for school on Monday; but no football, mind, until I give you leave."
Jan tried to speak, but he had tied his own tongue. He could not explain to the doctor, he could not explain to Heriot. He did not know why he had fainted for the first time in his life that morning; he only knew that it was not his heart, that he had never felt better than after yesterday's match. And now he was to be deprived of the one thing he liked at school, the one thing he was by way of getting good at, his one chance of showing what was in him to those who seemed to think there was nothing at all! And another Under Sixteen house-match would be played next week, perhaps against Haigh, who had also won their tie. And all he would be able to do would be to stand by yelling "Reds!" and having his shins lashed by some beastly præpostor, and hearing
