“You mean he hasn’t paid much attention to me.”  Deacon smiled grimly.  “Well, that’s all right.  As a matter of fact, I never really have got to know him.  Still, I haven’t got to know many of the fellows.  Too busy.  You haven’t paid much attention to me, either; but I like you.”

Rollins, whose father was a multimillionaire with family roots going deep among the rocks of Manhattan Island, laughed.

“Bully for you!  You won’t mind my saying so, Jim, but I had it in my mind to ask you to be a bit inconsequential—­especially when Doane was around—­about your taking his place.  But I guess it isn’t necessary.”

“No,”—­Deacon’s voice was short—­“it isn’t.”

“Junior Doane, of course, will be hard hit.  He’ll be game.  He’ll try to win back his seat.  And he may; I warn you.”

“If he can win it back, I want him to.”

“Good enough!” The captain started to walk away, then turned back with sudden interest.  “By the way, Jim, I was looking through the college catalogue this morning.  You and Doane both come from Philadelphia, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“I asked Doane if he knew you there.  Apparently not.”

“No, he didn’t.”  Deacon paused as though deliberating.  Suddenly he spoke.  “I knew of him, though.  You see, my father works in the bank of which Mr. Doane is president.”

“Oh!” Rollins blinked.  “I see.”

Deacon stepped forward, placing his hand upon the captain’s arm.

“I don’t know why I told you that.  It isn’t important at all.  Don’t say anything to Doane, will you?  Not that I care.  It—­it just isn’t important.”

“No.  I get you, Jim.  It isn’t important.”  He flung an arm over the young man’s shoulder.  “Let’s go back to dinner.  That rotten time-row has given me an appetite.”

There was that quiet in the Baliol dining room that evening which one might expect to find after an unsatisfactory time-trial.  Nations might be falling, cities burning, important men dying; to these boys such events would be as nothing in the face of the fact that the crew of a traditional rival was to be met within the week—­and that they were not proving themselves equipped for the meeting.

“If any of you fellows wish to motor down to the Groton Hotel on the Point for an hour or two, you may go,” said the coach, pushing back his chair.  He had begun to fear that his charges might be coming to too fine a point of condition and had decided that the relaxation of a bit of dancing might do no harm.

“Yeaa!” In an instant that subdued dining apartment was tumultuous with vocal outcry, drawing to the doorway a crowd of curious freshmen who were finishing dinner in their room.

“All right!” Dr. Nicholls grinned.  “I gather all you varsity and second varsity men want to go.  I’ll have the big launch ready at eight.  And—­oh, Dick Rollins, don’t forget; that boat leaves the hotel dock at ten-forty-five precisely.”