“What?” asked Irving. “Where was it? I didn’t see it.”

“You probably don’t read all the football news, as I do. But you will
after this.” Barclay laughed. “Yes, there was quite an account of that
game, and Upton was mentioned as being the bright particular star on the
Freshman team. It never occurred to me that he was your brother.”

“Naturally not. I wish I could get away to see the game with the Yale
Freshmen; I’ve never seen Lawrence play. But I don’t suppose I could
manage that, could I?”

Barclay looked doubtful. “The rector’s pretty strict with the masters as
well as with the boys. Especially when a man has charge of a dormitory.
I somehow think it wouldn’t be wise to try it,—your first term.”

“I suppose not. Well, I shall certainly read the football columns from
now on.”

“I wonder,” remarked Barclay, “if we couldn’t get the Harvard Freshmen
up here to play a practice game with our School eleven—say, the week
before the St. John’s game? It would be good practice for them as well
as for us; three or four years ago the Freshmen played here.”

“Oh, I wish we could.” Irving’s face lighted up. “I’ll write to my
brother, and perhaps he can arrange it with the captain and manager.”

“I’ll talk it over with Collingwood first,” said Barclay. “And then
we’ll proceed officially; and you can pull any additional wires that are
possible through your brother.” He rose to go. “I shouldn’t wonder,” he
added, “if that brother of yours turned out to be a useful asset for