Part 32 (2/2)

”Oh, confound your old stand! Look here, Durkin, will you tell Mr. Daley just what you've told me if I want you to?”

”Eh?” asked Durkin in alarm. ”Oh, I don't know. I don't want to get anyone into trouble. I--I'd rather not, I guess. You see, Sawyer----”

”If you will, I--I'll buy your old shoe-blacking stand or your rug or--or anything you like!” said Steve earnestly. ”Will you?”

”Why, maybe I might if you put it that way. The rug's two dollars.”

”All right,” answered Steve impatiently. ”Where are you going to be for the next hour?”

”Upstairs, practising. Come and see it any time you like. It really is a peach, Edwards, and it's scarcely worn at all. It--it's a prayer rug, too, and they're scarcer than hens' teeth nowadays!”

But Steve was already yards away and Durkin shrugged his shoulders and turned back into Torrence.

”Wonder what's up,” he murmured. ”I'd hate to get Sawyer into a sc.r.a.pe.

Still, if he will buy that rug----”

CHAPTER XXIV

THE DAY BEFORE THE BATTLE

Tom was attiring himself in his Sunday best. It was almost six o'clock and one of Hoskins' barges was to leave Main Hall at half-past with the members of the second team, for this was the evening of the banquet in the village. Tom didn't feel unduly hilarious, however. He was sorry that the football season was over, for one thing, for he loved the game.

And then existence of late had been fairly wearing and mighty unsatisfactory. His quarrel with Steve was a tiresome affair and he didn't see just how it was to end. For his part, in spite of the fact that his chum had hurt him a good deal by his mean suspicion of him, he was ready to make up, only--well, he had some pride, after all, and it did seem as if the first overtures should come from Steve. No, on the whole, Tom wasn't looking forward to the banquet with any great amount of enjoyment. If Steve was going to be there, too----

Someone came hurrying down the corridor, the room door flew open and there stood Steve himself, a radiant and embarra.s.sed look on his face, his gaze searching the room for Tom. His face fell a little as he found the room apparently empty, and then lighted again as his glance discovered Tom at the closet door, Tom half-dressed and with a pair of trousers dangling over his arm. Out went Steve's hand as he turned.

”I'm sorry, Tom,” he said simply. ”I was a beast.”

Tom took the hand that was offered and squeezed it hard.

”That's all right,” he stammered. ”So was I.”

”No, you were right, Tom,” answered Steve convincedly. ”I hadn't any business suspecting you of a thing like that. And--and I want to tell you first that I knew I was wrong a long time ago, before this happened.

You believe that, don't you?”

”Yes, Steve, but--what is it that's happened?”

”It's all clear as daylight,” said Steve, grinning happily as he seated himself on the bed and tossing his cap toward the table. ”It was Sawyer did it. He put up the whole job. He fessed up when 'Horace' got at him.

Durkin met him coming out and----”

”Hold on!” begged Tom. ”I don't quite get you, Steve!”

Steve laughed. ”Sort of confused narrative, eh? Well, listen, then. Drop those trousers and sit down a minute.”

”All right, but the barge leaves at half-past----”

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