“Of course they’d come.”
“Yes, they’ve forgiven me. So has Ruth. I told her the whole story about myself, Dave.”
“That must have been hard,” said David, a good deal moved.
“I felt that it was only fair to her. It was right that she should know how weak I’d been and should realize what a chance she might be taking if she said yes. It hurt her terribly. But she believes in me in spite of all. She feels sure I can never be so weak again. You and she have been as splendid to me as any two human beings could be—far more so than I deserved.”
“She’s a brick,” said David. “And you don’t need to worry about the need of making a good showing in the game to-morrow. You’ll do that, anyway; but you could strike out every time you came to bat, and it couldn’t affect Ruth’s feelings for you in the least.”
“It mightn’t, except that she realizes I have a special responsibility to the college and the class, after what I did. And if instead I should do poorly—”
“Forget it,” said David. “You go right to bed and sleep. You’ll do your best. Don’t worry.”
“I guess that’s good advice.” Lester turned to the door. “Oh, by the way, Dave, would it be all right for me to bring Ruth and mother and father round to your house after the game? She’d like to see your family, and so should I.”
“Mother and Mr. Dean will be delighted,” said David. “I’ll have Katharine there, too.”
David sat with Katharine at the game, and in the row in front of them and only a short distance away sat Ruth and Mr. and Mrs. Wallace. Across the intervening backs they exchanged nods and smiles. Ruth at the beginning of the game was radiant, but as it proceeded the expression with which she followed Lester’s movements became anxious and troubled. As for David, the course of events filled him with dismay. Harvard was being beaten, and almost worse than that Lester was playing wretchedly. He muffed a throw at first base that let in a run; he struck out in the second inning, when he first came to bat; he struck out again in the fourth and again in the seventh.