weight they had lost in the game. Harry was not among them; and indeed, as Ward looked about on the boys, deprived of their distinguishing colors, he could not tell who belonged to St. John's, who to St. Timothy's.
He stepped to the door of the great steaming bathroom, where members of both elevens were still fraternizing luxuriously under the showers, carrying on incoherent conversations in loud, echoing voices; and as he stood here, Harry came out, dripping, wringing the water from his hair.
"Hello!" said Ward, and Harry looked up at him from under his wet locks. "Congratulate you." He held out his hand.
"Thanks," said Harry. "My hand's all wet"—
"I don't mind a little thing like that. Now you'd better get to work and rub yourself down."
And while Harry, in accordance with this advice, seized a towel and began to polish himself to a bright pink, Ward stood by and made comments on the game. At last he said:
