"Well," said Phil Ward to Rupert, "you did it, and I congratulate you."
"Did nothing!" Rupert answered; and Ward suddenly recognized that the boy, in spite of all his happiness over the triumph of his eleven, was having at this moment his own private sorrow. So while they drove slowly away Ward sat in silence, allowing his companion to master this sudden bitterness. Then, as the carriage was turning into the road through the woods, the older boy said:—
"Would you mind stopping here and waiting for me a few moments, Rupert? I'd like to go into the athletic house and say a word to Clark's brother."
"All right," Rupert answered, in a voice that was quite cheerful. "Wish I could go with you. Stop here a few moments, please, Patrick."
Ward opened the door of the athletic house, and stood a moment, confused by changes in the place since the days when he had used it, yet pleasantly conscious that the spirit of it was the same.
