CHAPTER XIV.
THE GOODWIN SCHOLARSHIP.
"But how did it all happen ?" asked Outfield West breathlessly.
He had just entered and was seated on the edge of the bed whereon Joel lay propped up eating his Thanksgiving dinner from a tray.

It was seven o'clock in the evening, and Dickey Sproule was not yet back.

The yard was noisy with the shouts of lads returning from the dining hall, and an occasional cheer floated up, an echo of the afternoon's event.

Joel moved a dish of pudding away from Outfield's elbow as he answered between mouthfuls of turkey: "I was up here studying at the table there when I heard some one coming up stairs two steps at a time.

It was Clausen.