“I suppose I have the right to manage my own affairs?” he demanded.  Neil realized his mistake and, with an effort, held his peace.  Mr. Brill turned to him.

“I fear there’s no use in attempting to persuade you to come to us also?” he said.  Neil shook his head silently.  Then, realizing that Paul was quite capable, in his present fit of stubbornness, of promising to enter Robinson if only to spite his room-mate, Neil used guile.

“Anyhow, September’s a long way off,” he said, “and I don’t see that it’s necessary to decide to-night.  Perhaps we had both better take a day or two to think it over.  I guess Mr. Brill won’t insist on a final answer to-night.”

The Robinson coach hesitated, but then answered readily enough: 

“Certainly not.  Think it over; only, if possible, let me hear your decision to-morrow, as I am leaving town then.”

“Well, as far as I’m concerned,” said Paul, “I don’t see any use in putting it off.  I’m willing—­”

Neil jumped to his feet.  A burst of martial music swept up to them as the school band, followed by a host of their fellows, turned the corner of the building.

“Come on, Paul,” he cried; “get your coat on.  Mr. Brill will excuse us if we leave him; we mustn’t keep the fellows waiting.  And we can think the matter over, eh, Paul?  And we’ll let him know in the morning.  Here’s your coat.  Good-night, sir, good-night.”  He was holding the door open and smiling politely.  Paul, scowling, arose and shook hands with the Robinson emissary.  Neil kept up a steady stream of talk, and his chum could only mutter vague words about his pleasure at Mr. Brill’s call and about seeing him to-morrow.  When the door had closed behind him the coach stood a moment in the hall and thoughtfully buttoned his coat.

“I think I’ve got Gale all right,” he said to himself, “but”—­with a slight smile—­“the other chap was too smart for me.  And, confound him, he’s just the sort we need!”

When he reached the entrance he was obliged to elbow his way through a solid throng of shouting youths who with excited faces and waving caps and flags informed the starlight winter sky over and over that they wanted Gale and Fletcher, to which demand the band lent hearty if rather discordant emphasis.

* * * * *

A good deal happened in the next two hours, but nothing that is pertinent to this narrative.  Victorious Hillton elevens have been hauled through the village and out to the field many times in past years, and bonfires have flared and speeches have been made by players and faculty, and all very much as happened on this occasion.  Neil and Paul returned to their room at ten o’clock, tired, happy, with the cheers and the songs still echoing in their ears.

Paul had apparently forgotten his resentment toward Neil and the whole matter of Brill’s proposition.  But Neil hadn’t, and presently, when they were preparing for bed, he returned doggedly to the charge.