"Well, you did n't mean to hurt him."
"I did mean to play foul, though—and that's enough—for most people. I don't care. They can talk and think what they please. After this I don't say a word about it to any one. I guess I can stand anything that's coming to me."
Harry was silent a moment. "Are n't you going to tell Rupert?" he asked.
"He knows already. I saw it in his eye when he lay and looked up at me."
"Maybe he does n't know you're sorry."
Herrick kicked sullenly at the turf. "Yes, I suppose I'll let him know that. But I won't let anybody else know it," he added defiantly. "I'll ignore it; I don't care what they say or do. I had to tell you and that kid, Stoddard—because I'd lied to you and him."
Harry could say nothing, but he felt sorrier for Joe Herrick than ever—and liked him better.
In the athletic house, while Herrick was dressing, the other players on the team
