advances, but he took a charitable view of it, and ascribed it to awkwardness, rather than to intentional boorishness. He said:

“Let me tell you, Andrew, that you can do no such thing.”

“Yes, I can.”

“Look here, my young man. You are forgetting yourself. I do not know what sort of training you received at home, but while you are here, you must speak to your superiors with more respect. Prefects and professors and the other officers of the college are accustomed to be treated here with at least a certain amount of deference.”

The boy winced under the allusion to his home training. He prided himself upon being a gentleman, and, indeed, his home life was all that was delightful. As if he had read his thoughts, the prefect said:

“Do you know the meaning of gentleman—a gentle man? It is not necessarily an inherited quality of birth. It is rather a question of manners, is it not?”

Garrett hung his head. He knew that he had been rude and uncouth.

“Forgive me, sir. I did not mean to be ungentlemanly. But I do not like these boys here. They don't seem to treat me squarely.”

“Why? What is wrong?”asked the prefect, now satisfied.

“Oh! I don't exactly know. They all seem inclined to let me alone. Nobody seems to want to have anything to say to me.”

“Perhaps that statement is not altogether exact. Have you not annoyed or vexed several of them one way or another? Think now of what you may have done. If you want to get along with St. Cuthbert's boys, you will have to act honorably and above board in everything. Do not for a moment imagine that I am accusing you of anything underhand or mean. I am far from doing so. But boys are quick to discern character—frequently quicker than men. It is a species of intuition with them, and they are rarely deceived. You have been here a month. Do you know of any nicknames among the boys?”

“Yes, sir; several of them. There is Shanks, and Owly, and Pinchey, or Pinchbeck, and a lot more of them.”

“Just so. Now, do you not see that each of these boys to whom a nickname sticks has just the characteristic or foible the name indicates?”

“Yes, sir, that is true.”

“I am glad you recognize it. You have not as yet developed or shown any particular trait which would give the boys an opportunity of attaching any particular name to you. I should advise you to watch carefully, for, believe me, if they do give you a name, it will not be a pleasant one, and probably it will be one that will sting. At all events it will be one that will show to you your foibles pretty clearly. Watch yourself, therefore, and prevent it if you can.”

With this warning the prefect left the boy and went to ring the great bell as first warning for supper. Garrett remained in a “brown study” for some time. Had he taken the prefect's advice he might have saved himself many hours of subsequent regret and remorse.

CHAPTER V

A Pitching Cage

JACK BEECHAM and Tom Shealey were standing at a window in their classroom one dark afternoon in the late fall. They had their heads together, for both were reading from the same letter, which the former had just received. They were evidently much interested in its contents, for neither noticed the entrance of Rob Jones, nor were they conscious of his presence until he, boylike, gave them both simultaneously a thump on the back.

“You must be mightily interested, you two, not to hear me come in,” said Jones.

“We felt your presence, Rob, quick enough,” said Beecham.

“It was quite striking,” added Shealey.

“What's the news? It must be of tremendous importance to cause such absorption.”

“It is important,” said Shealey. “Jack has just received a nice letter from those nice fellows of Blandyke College. They write elegantly—perfect gentlemen.”

“What have they to say?”inquired Jones.

“It isn't a challenge for next spring, or anything of that sort,” said Jack, “but a sort of recapitulation of this year's games we played together, and a chat over the prospects of next year. Listen to this: 'We met with few defeats this summer, and I am instructed by the nine to say that if we were to be defeated—and we were once or twice, as you remember—we preferred to have been defeated by

no one but the St. Cuthbert's team, not only because you, gentlemen, were considered worthy of our steel, but also because every player on your team was a gentleman whom it was a pleasure and an honor to meet.'”

“Now isn't that nice,” exclaimed Beecham. “But let us see what more he has to say. They are capital fellows, these Blandykes,” and Jack read on: “'We intend to meet you early next summer, if we can arrange some games with you. We have great pleasure in telling you that we intend to wipe out all defeats of this season. With this in view, we have, already, men daily in the pitching cage, and our captain intends to keep his men in training all the winter months.'”

“They must feel pretty sure of victory to tell us all their plans,” remarked Beecham. “Pshaw! isn't it a pity that Henning has gone back on us! I wonder what we shall do without him,”

“I don't know. I can't imagine,” remarked Jones.. "Whatever we do, we must not be behind the Blandykes. We, too, must get a cage and practice pitching and catching. We can't afford to dim the glory of last summer's record. You remember we won two out of the three games we played with the Blandykes. Next spring we must capture the three.”

“But we have no cage, and they are expensive things,” observed Beecham.

“Pass round the hat,” remarked Shealey promptly; "of course Roy will help us as usual. He is always generous with his money; just the fellow who deserves to have plenty of it.”

“Yes, that's true,” said Jones, “and I suppose his cousin, young Garrett, has plenty of cash to spare too, but I doubt whether he will be as generous as Roy has always been. Thanksgiving day will be

here in ten days, and we ought to have the pitching cage ready when the football season closes.”

“What will Mr. Shalford say about it?” asked Beecham.

“Oh! he will leave it all to us, that's sure; but we may expect his one proviso which he is very strong on, and that is, as you know, that we do not go into debt.”

“Very good,” said Jack. “Then we had better begin at once. Here comes Garrett. I'll try him first.”

Beecham explained the project to Garrett, and then asked him whether he would help them out. His first words rang with a false note.

“Has my cousin given anything?”he asked.

“Not yet. We have not seen him yet. You are the first that has been asked.”

“Very well. Put me down for five dollars.”

“Thanks; much obliged,” said Beecham, without a particle of enthusiasm.

Strange to say, young Garrett did not feel satisfied. He had at once conceived this an opportunity to make himself popular by a liberal donation. The gift, for a college student, was liberal enough; but there was something in the merely civil “Thanks,” from Beecham, which told him he had not succeeded, at this time, in his purpose. He thought he detected in the tone a covert sneer. But of this he was not sure. He made another mistake.

“Let me know,” he said, “what my cousin subscribes, and if he gives more than I have given, I will increase mine.”

A second civil—but colder— “Thanks,” greeted this speech, and Garrett walked away in no very pleasant frame of mind. “Why