The youngster bowed again.
"De honour is all mine, sir. But you can give it to the Cause when they pass the box."
Norman turned to Elena. "Well, doesn't that jar you? A sixteen-year-old boy declines a tip, and says give it to the Cause!"
The boy darted up the steps of the platform and whispered to the chairman:
"Git on to his curves! Dat's de captain o' de football—de bloke dat's worth millions, an' don't give a doggone!"
A woman dressed in deep red who sat beside the chairman leaned close and asked with quiet intensity:
"You mean young Worth, the millionaire of Nob Hill?"
"Bet yer life! Dat's him!"
The woman in red whispered to the chairman, who nodded, while his keen gray eyes flashed a ray of light from his heavy brows as he turned toward Norman.
The woman wheeled suddenly in her chair, and with her back to the audience bent over a girl who was evidently hiding behind her.