Don nodded, his eyes fixed uneasily on the coach's.
"Well, there it is, anyway. And so I think the best thing for all of us, Gilbert, is for you to come back to work this afternoon."
Don's look of dismay quite startled the other.
"But I'd rather not, sir! I—I'm out of practice now. I've quit training. I've been eating all sorts of things; potatoes and fresh bread and pastry—no end of pastry, sir!—and—and candy——"
Mr. Robey grunted. "You don't show it," he said. "Anyway, I guess that won't matter. I'll chance it. Three o'clock, then, Gilbert."
Don's gaze sought the floor and he shook his head. "I'd rather not, sir, if you don't mind," he muttered.
"But I do mind. The team needs you, Gilbert! And now that I know that you didn't quit because you were afraid——"
"I did, though!" Don looked up desperately. "That was the truth of it!"
Mr. Robey sighed deeply. "Gilbert," he said patiently, "if I couldn't lie better than you can I wouldn't try it! You weren't afraid and you aren't afraid and you know it and I know it! So, then, is it Walton?"
After a moment Don nodded silently.