After a moment’s silence in the dim room Stuart said thoughtfully: “Well, there wasn’t anything to do but accept, but—but I don’t see yet why they did it. After the failure I made of it this time, and all!”
“They did it for just one thing, Stuart,” replied Jack earnestly. Stuart looked the question. “They did it for the good of the team.”
The talk died away and each of the three boys sat there in the half-darkness and thought his own thoughts. Stuart’s excitement had given place to a feeling of contentment and well-being and good will. His thoughts passed over his school life, and, while he saw very clearly the many mistakes he had made, he was not disturbed. Wasn’t it Mr. Moffit who had said that one learned by mistakes? Well, he had learned, he told himself, and whatever the mistakes of the future might be, they’d not be the old ones. Thinking forward, he made many good resolutions, most of which, it is only fair to say, he kept. A yawn from Jack broke the long silence.
“I was almost asleep,” he said. “You night owls can stay up if you like, but I’m going to bed.”
“Don’t break up the party,” begged Stuart plaintively. “Say, I wish you were going to be here next year, Jack. I’ll miss you, you old coot.”
“Thanks; same to you. I guess, though, you’ll be much too busy to miss any one, old son. You’ll have a football team to look after, and, speaking from brief experience, I’ll say that’s a man-sized job! Stuart, if you don’t beat Pearsall next year I’ll come back and lick you!”
“You’re permitted to come back and try!”
“Huh! Well, just you see that I don’t have to. Here’s Neil to look after, too. Don’t forget that. That’ll keep you busy, you know; he’s always getting into trouble.”
Stuart failed to note the twinkle in Jack’s eyes. He looked across at his roommate and nodded gravely.