Thoroughly mortified and crestfallen, Conrad went home. He hoped to go up to his room without observation, but his father noticed his entrance.
"Well, Conrad," he said, with a smile, "did you carry off the honors at the picnic?"
"No, I didn't," answered Conrad, bitterly.
"Did Valentine Burns defeat you?"
"No."
"Who did win the prize?"
"Andy Grant."
Squire Carter was amazed.
"Can he row?" he ejaculated.
"Yes, a little."