“I have been elected to the Golf Club and have joined.  It costs a dollar and a half for this year, but West wanted me to join so much that I did.  There are a lot of nice fellows in it—­the sort that it is well to know.  And I am going to try for the Senior Debating Club after the holidays....  Tell father that he wouldn’t be so down on football if he could see the fellows that play it here at Hillton.  Mr. Remsen is head coach, as I have told you.  Then there is an advisory committee of one pupil, one graduate, and one professor.  These are Wesley Blair, Mr. Remsen, and Professor MacArthur.  Then there is a manager, who looks after the business affairs; and a trainer, who is Professor Beck; and, of course, a captain.  Wesley Blair is the captain.  The second eleven is captained by Tom Warren, who is a fine player, and who is substitute quarter-back on the first or school eleven.  In a couple of weeks both the first and second go to training tables:  the first at one of the boarding houses in the village and the second in the school dining hall.  When that happens we go into training for sure, and have to be in bed every night at ten sharp and get up every morning at seven.  I’m pretty sure now of a place on the second, and may possibly make the first before the season’s done....

“Of course, I want the overcoat.  But you had better send it as it is, and I will have the tailor here in the village cut it over.  He is very moderate in charges and does good work, so West tells me, and in this way it will be sure to fit right.  Thank father for me, please....  Good-night....

“Your loving son,

“JOEL.”

The opportunity to inquire regarding Stephen Remsen’s family connections presented itself to Joel on the day preceding the golf tournament and the football game with Westvale.  On account of the latter there had been only a half hour of light practice for the two squads, and Joel at half past four had gone to his room to study.  But when it came time to puzzle out some problems in geometry Joel found that his paper was used up, and, rather than borrow of his neighbors, he pulled on his cap and started for the village store.

October had brought warm weather, and this afternoon, as he went along the maple-bordered road that leads to the post office he found himself dawdling over the dusty grasses and bushes, recognizing old friends and making new ones, as right-minded folks will when the sun is warm and the birds sing beside the way.  He watched a tiny chipmunk scamper along the top of the stone wall and disappear in the branches of a maple, looked upward and saw a mass of fluffy white clouds going northward, and thought wistfully of spring and the delights it promised here in the Hudson Valley.  The golden-rod had passed its prime, though here and there a yellow torch yet lighted the shadowed tangles of shrub and vine beneath the wall, but the asters still bloomed on, and it was while bending over a clump of them that Joel heard the whir of wheels on the smooth road and turned to see a bicyclist speeding toward him from the direction of the academy.