Robinson had departed with trailing banners; the coaches and the whole college were happy; Paul was happy; Sydney was happy; he was happy himself.

Certainly the bally shoulder--ouch!--hurt at times; but, then one can't have everything one wants.

His meditations were interrupted by voices and footsteps outside the front door.

He bolted the last morsel of bread and awaited the callers.
These proved to be Paul and Sydney and--Neil stared--Tom Cowan.
"Rah-rah-rah!" shouted Paul, slamming the door.

"How are they coming, chum?
Here's Burr and Cowan to make polite injuries after your inquiries--I mean inquiries--well, you know what I mean.