Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1929-09-08

ing for the change the past few days. Now he
sees it,
You were pulling But you're Doane's
roommate"
Eyes, it's tough. But Ballot first, YOU
know"
Deacon stared at the man. He wanted to
say something but couldn't The captain
smiled.
Jim. old boy you're a queer sort of a
chap, and-and-the fact is, the situation will
be bit ticklish You know what it means
for fellow to be thrown out of his seat Just
before race upon which he has been count
ing heart and SOUL"
II don't know can imagine"
you see, it's Doane. You know about his
father"
IT know all about his father" was the reply.
"Eh?" Rollins stared at him, then smiled.
II suppose every rowing man at Ballot does.
But you don't know as much as do. On the
quiet, he's the man who gave us the new boat
house last year. He's our best spender. He was
an old varsity oar himself. Frankly, Jim, Doc
Nichols and the rest of us would have liked
TO see Junior Doane come through I think
you get what mean. He's senior; he's my
best friend. But we're not throwing a race
to Shelburne simply to please old CephaS
Doane, naturally. I know what you've got,
Jim. So does DR. Nichols. You'll be In the
what I've been trying to say: Junior Doane
hasn't been very decent to you-"
"You mean he hasn't paid much attention
to me-" Deacon smiled grimly. well, that's
all right. AS a matter of fact, never really
have got to know him. STILL haven't got to
know many of the fellows. Too busy"
Good enough!" The captain started to
walk away, then turned back with sudden in
terest. by the way, Jim, I was looking
THROUGH
You and Doane both come from Philadelphia,
don't you?"
eyes"
81 asked Doane if he knew you there Ap-
parently not"
mo, he didn't" Deacon paused as though
celebrating. Suddenly he spoke. 'I knew Of
him, though. You see, my father works In the
bank Of which Mr. Doane is president"
THERE was that quiet in the Ballot dining
room that evening which one might expect
to find after an unsatisfactory time-trial
eff any Of you fellows wish to motor down
to the Groton Hotel on the Point for an hour
or two you may CO." 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 relaxa-
ton of bit of dancing might do do harm.
YEAH" In an instant that subdued dining
apartment was tumultuous with vocal outcry.
With yell and dive the oarsmen went
through the doors.
Deacon followed at more leisurely gait with
that faint CLEAN of amusement in his eyes
which was so characteristic. His first impulse
was not to go, but upon second thought he
decided that he would. Jane Bostwick was
stopping at the Groton. Her father was a
successful promoter and very close to Cephas
Doane. ST., whose bank stood back of most
Of his operations. Deacon and she had been
neighbors as boy and girl, had played together
in front of row of prim brick houses He
had not seen her in recent years until the
previous afternoon, when as he was walking
along the country road she had pulled up in
her roadster.
Don't pretend you don't remember me, Jim
Deacon" she h. laughed.
Jim remembered her, all right They talked
as though so many significant years had not
elapsed.
Curiously, that evening he had heard Doane
talking to her over the telephone, and there
was great deal in his manner of speaking that
indicated something more than mere acquaint-
ance.
But Deacon did not see Jane Bostwick at the
hotel-not to speak to, at least It was not
until the hour set for the return had almost
arrived that Deacon saw her, and then his
attention was directed to her by her appearance
with Junior Doane in one of the open French
windows at his right.
A wave of something akin to bitterness passed
over Deacon-bitterneSs having nothing to do
with self. For the boy was ruggedly independ-
hol ~ lyN,oS hat IaA