Hugh remembered his reception by Mr. Crowley for many days. Practice was just over when he reached the scene and the two teams were resting for a few minutes before the scrimmage. Mr. Crowley, looking fiercer and more disreputable than usual in the old gray trousers and faded green sweater he wore, was talking to Coach Bonner near the bench. Hugh had every desire in the world to avoid speech with him, but he disdained sneaking to the bench and so his appearance was quickly noted.
“Ordway!” Mr. Crowley left the first-team coach and walked to meet the culprit. “Let me see you a minute.”
“Yes, sir,” replied Hugh, very, very meekly.
“Aren’t you a trifle late?” asked the coach sarcastically.
“Yes, sir, I am. I’m very sorry, but something unforeseen——”
“Yes, yes, of course! Grandmother died, maybe. Too bad, too bad!”
“No, sir, I—someone called——”
“And you had to stay and serve afternoon tea? What a bore!” Mr. Crowley’s bantering tone ceased abruptly. “Look here, Ordway, practice is at three-thirty. I told you when I let you come back that you were to stick. You’re not keeping your part of the agreement. Unless you were detained by the faculty, in which case you should have notified me, you have no excuse whatsoever. I don’t want any fellows here who can’t be on time. Life’s too short to worry about them. Understand that?”
“Yes, sir. It won’t happen again, Mr. Crowley.”