“I did think of driving over to Highland this afternoon and taking a look at the game,” said the doctor, causing Don’s heart to stop beating for a moment; “but I find I shall be unable to do so.”
The boy breathed again, inwardly thanking fortune.
“I want you to do your best to-day, my son,” pursued his father; “and remember to guard your temper and keep your head cool. Promise me that you will not, under any provocation, permit your temper to master you to-day, Don.”
The promise was given, and they sat down to breakfast, during which, to the continued uneasiness of the youth, Dr. Scott persisted in talking about football and asking unpleasant questions. Don was glad enough to escape from the house under pretense of going to the field to put in some morning practice.
To him it now seemed necessary to continue the deception as long as he could, and it is even probable that he hoped his father might never find out the truth, although this hardly appeared possible. In the beginning, the deception had seemed a small matter and of little consequence, but, having taken the first false step, he had been led on till now the burden of the deceit seemed more than he could bear. It was wearing on his nerves and blunting all his finer instincts of honor, for Don was naturally an upright and straightforward youth, who, despite his violent disposition, detested anything dishonorable.
Thus it came about that he remained away from home all the forenoon, shunning and avoiding the other village boys, who shunned and avoided him. When he came rushing home, it was at the last minute, apparently, as if the exciting events of the day had caught and carried him away in their clutches.
“Land of goodness!” cried his aunt, as he flung himself down at the table. “Don’t tear the house to pieces!”
“I’m in a hurry,” he declared.
“Can’t you wait for your pa? The tea ain’t quite ready.”
“I can’t wait for anything, and I don’t want any tea.”