and Morrill and Dennison were gathered. The forward pass was new in
football this year, and although the playing season had not yet begun,
Irving had already seen fellows practicing for it, in front of the Study
and behind the dormitory. Collingwood, he knew, was captain of the
school football eleven, and naturally had all the latest developments of
the game, such as the forward pass, very much on his mind. Still that
was no excuse for playing football in the corridor.

Morrill had caught the ball, and as Irving approached, undertook to
return it. But it ricochetted against the wall and bounced down at
Collingwood’s feet. Collingwood seized it and was poising it in his hand
for another throw when Irving spoke behind him—sharply, for he was
mindful of his resolve to be severe:—

“No more of that, Collingwood.”

The boy turned eagerly and said,—

“Oh, Mr. Upton, I’m just getting on to how to do it. Here, let me show
you. You take it this way, along the lacings—the trouble is, my hand’s
not quite long enough to get a good grip—and then you take it like
this—”

“Yes,” said Irving coldly; he had an idea that Collingwood had adopted
Westby’s method and was engaged in chaffing him. “You needn’t show me.”

And he turned abruptly and went into his room, closing the door behind
him.

Collingwood stood, looking round over his shoulder after Irving and