“My brother’s first name? Lawrence.”

“Hm!” said Westby, referring to his newspaper. “I find him set down here
as ‘T. Upton.’ But I suppose that is a misprint, of course.”

“I suppose it must be,” agreed Irving.

“Newspapers are always making mistakes, aren’t they?” said Westby. “Such
careless fellows! We’d like awfully to hear more about your brother
Lawrence, Mr. Upton.”

The broad grin broke into a snicker.

“Why, I don’t know just what there is to tell,” Irving said awkwardly.

“What does he look like, sir? Does he resemble you very much?—I mean,
apart from the family fondness for athletics.”

Irving’s lips twitched; Westby was enjoying so thoroughly his revenge!
And the other boys were all stifling their amusement.

“We are said not to look very much alike,” he answered. “He is of a
somewhat heavier build.”

“He must be somewhat lacking, then, in grace and agility, sir,” said
Westby; and the boys broke into a shout, and Irving gave way to a faint
smile.

At that moment Collingwood came up the stairs.