“Naturally.”
“And you feel that it’s—it’s up to you to spoil Saturday’s game?”
“It’s up to me to report to faculty. You should have thought of the game before.”
“It seems sort of tough,” muttered Joe. Maynard flashed a puzzled look at him. Hal sat up impulsively.
“Oh, well,” he began, “I suppose—”
“Never mind,” interrupted Joe, shrugging. “I can stand it, I guess.”
“You mean—it was you?” demanded Maynard, staring hard.
Joe shrugged again. “I thought you said you knew,” he scoffed.
“I think I do,” replied Maynard meaningly, with a quick side glance at Hal’s troubled face. “But I can’t prove I’m right, I suppose. Seems to me it would be the decent thing for one of you to own up, though.”