Suddenly he became aware of a girlish figure alone in the big stand. He looked to make sure who it was, for at the first glimpse he had felt that it was she of whom he was thinking. As he did so the girl looked at him. It was Miss Tyler, and Tom noticed that there were tears in her eyes. He saw nothing of Langridge as he hastened toward her.
“Why, Madge—Miss Tyler!” he exclaimed, “what is the matter? Have you lost anything? Are you alone? I thought Fred Langridge was going——”
She stamped her little foot.
“Please don’t speak his name to me!” she exclaimed.
Tom opened his eyes.
“Why—why——” he stammered.
“He came over to me in—in no proper condition to escort me home,” she went on tearfully. “Oh, Tom, I’m—I’m so miserable!”
She acted as though she were going to break down and cry in real earnest, and Tom was on the anxious edge, for he hated to see girls weep. But she mastered herself with an effort.
“May I take you back to Haddonfield?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said, and she came down from the upper part of the stand to join him. They walked off the field, both silent for a time, and Tom was wondering what would be the safest subject to talk about. But Miss Tyler spoke first.