Then he recollected, paused, and reluctantly pulled out envelope No. 8, and
broke the seal. "Just a minute," he murmured to the waiter. Then his face
turned scarlet, and he stammered, under his breath, "Why--why--this can't
be--"

Envelope No. 8 ought to have been bordered with black, judging by the
dismay its order to a lecture hall to hear a famous electrician, caused.
But the Woodbridge blood was up now, and it was with an expression
resembling that of his grandfather Cornelius under strong indignation that
Cyrus stalked out of that charming place to proceed grimly to the lecture
hall.

"Who wants to hear a lecture on an empty stomach?" he groaned. "I suppose
I'll be ordered out, anyway, the minute I sit down and stretch my legs.
Wonder if father can be exactly right in his mind. He doesn't believe in
wasting time, but I'm wasting it today by the bucketful. Suppose he's doing
this to size me up some way; he isn't going to tire me out so quick as he
thinks. I'll keep going till I drop."

Nevertheless, when, just as he was getting interested, he was ordered to go
three miles to a football field, and then ordered away again without a
sight of the game he had planned for a week to see, his disgust was
intense.

All through that long, warm afternoon he raced about the city and suburbs,
growing wearier and more empty with every step. The worst of it was, the
orders were beginning to assume the form of a schedule, and commanded that
he be here at 3:15, and there at 4:05; and so on, which forbade loitering,
had he been inclined to loiter. In it all he could see no purpose, except
the possible one of trying his physical endurance. He was a strong boy, or