THE DAY BEFORE THE BATTLE
Tom was attiring himself in his Sunday best. It was almost six o'clock and one of Hoskins' barges was to leave Main Hall at half-past with the members of the second team, for this was the evening of the banquet in the village. Tom didn't feel unduly hilarious, however. He was sorry that the football season was over, for one thing, for he loved the game. And then existence of late had been fairly wearing and mighty unsatisfactory. His quarrel with Steve was a tiresome affair and he didn't see just how it was to end. For his part, in spite of the fact that his chum had hurt him a good deal by his mean suspicion of him, he was ready to make up, only--well, he had some pride, after all, and it did seem as if the first overtures should come from Steve. No, on the whol
