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125
ST. JOHN’S CHAMPION

just a notion I have, and of course I don’t know him. I think he’s a mighty good fellow just the same, and I’m awfully glad we’re to be classmates at college, so that I’ll learn to know him better.—Here, I can carry my own bag.”

“Please let me,” begged Edward.

When they emerged from the gymnasium, snow was falling, the twilight of the early evening had descended, lights shone from the windows of the School buildings. In front of the Study waited the two open sleighs, and by the gate were clustered a group of boys—members of the St. Timothy’s and St. John’s hockey teams, exchanging good wishes and farewells.

“Hurry up, Charley! Hurry up!” cried some of the St. John’s boys. “We’ve all been waiting for you.”

Charles shook hands all round with the St. Timothy’s team; last of all with his brother. Edward murmured in his ear, just as he was getting into the sleigh, “Good-bye, Charley. I wish I were more like you!”

“What?” Charles looked round at him with the startled exclamation.