"I'm not rubbing it in; I'm only trying to understand it." "There's nothing to understand. I just was crazy to go to that ball game and I started. I should have gone, too, if it hadn't been for the kid getting hurt." "It was bully of you to bring him back, anyway," Bob said. "Of course you knew it was all up with you when you did it." "I didn't think about it at all. I wasn't thinking of anything but that poor little chap who was mowed down by the brute in that car. If I hadn't happened to hear the motor it might have been me instead. I wish it had been," he declared gloomily. "No you don't. Great Scott, cheer up, Van! The country hasn't gone to the dogs yet. I must admit you are in a mess; but it doesn't begin to be the mess it would have been if you had gone to the game, had a bang-up time, and come home a sneak who had stolen his fun. At least you have done the square thing and 'fessed up, and now you'll be man enough to take what's coming to you. What do you suppose Maitland will do?" "I can guess pretty well--pack me off home. He is stiff as a ramrod on obedience to the school rules," sighed Van, "and he's right, too. It is perfectly fair. I knew it when I went." "I can't see, just for one afternoon of sport, how you--" Bob broke off. "If I'd only been here you never would have gone." "Maybe not," admitted Van. Then he added in the same breath: "No, I shouldn't have gone if you had been here, Bobbie. Somehow you're my good angel. I wrote Father so the other day." "Stuff!" "It's true. You are such a brick! I thought you'd blow my head off when you'd heard what I'd done." "Well, I am mad enough to do it," was the tart reply. "For you to go and do a thing like that just for a ball game! It wasn't worth it. Think of your being pitched out of Colversham for a measly game of baseball. And you didn't get there, either!" Van kicked the pillows impatiently. "Don't light into me, Bobbie," he moaned. "Don't I feel bad enough as it is?" "I don't know whether you do or not; you ought to." "I do, Bob. I'm dead sorry."