tion of his speech. It must necessarily be short, but he wished the phrasing of it to be exactly right. He came down to dinner one day satisfied in mind. He felt that he had hit upon the best possible introduction.
Tom Eastman, who sat next to him and who was captain of the Pythian track team, was tearing open a letter. After a moment he looked up.
"The President's not the only fellow who's coming on for field-day," he said, with exultation.
"Who else?" Harry asked.
"Rupert Ormsby." All the boys at the table broke out in eager exclamation and inquiry. "Yes, I'll read you what he says—if you'll only keep still. 'I hope the Pythians are showing their speed on the track this year. The doctor has said I may come on for field-day, and I want to see the Pythians win the way they used to. Love to Harry Harding and Stoddard and Herrick, and all the rest.' Just a scrap of a note—but is n't it great!"
There was enthusiastic agreement upon this,
