During dinner Sam was tremendously curious to discover how and where his
friend and Mary had met and what the scrape might be to which Crawford
had referred. But his curiosity was unsatisfied. Mr. Smith refused to
tell and Mary only smiled and shook her head when questioned.

The young people furnished most of the conversation during the meal.
The recent football season and its triumphant ending were discussed, of
course, and the prospects of the hockey team came in for its share. Sam,
it appeared, was out for a place on the hockey squad.

"You must see some of the games, Mary," he said. "I'll get tickets for
you and Cousin Emily. You're crazy about sports, aren't you, Cousin
Emily."

Mrs. Wyeth regarded him through her eyeglasses.

"I imagine," she observed, "that that remark is intended as a joke. I
saw one football game and the spectacle of those boys trampling each
other to death before my eyes, and of you, Samuel Keith, hopping up and
down shrieking, 'Tear 'em up' and 'Smash 'em' was the nearest approach
to insanity I ever experienced. Since that time I have regarded Doctor
Eliot as President Emeritus of an asylum and NOT a university."

Sam was hugely delighted. "That's football," he declared. "I will admit
that no one but lunatics like Crawford here play football. Hockey, now,
is different. I play hockey."

Crawford seemed surprised.