“Congratulate you, Crashaw,” he said, putting out his hand to Charles.
Edward stood by with downcast eyes.
“It’s the hardest luck you got hurt; I’m awfully sorry,” said Charles.
“It was a chump thing for me to do.” Blanchard glanced kindly at the younger brother. “Just my own clumsiness. When I ought to have stayed and backed Ned up in the defence—instead of leaving him to go it alone.”
Edward raised his eyes; there were tears in them.
“I can’t tell you how I feel, Guy,” he said; his lips quivered, and he turned quickly away.
Charles pressed Blanchard’s hand. “Thank you, ever so much,” he said. Then he hurried after his brother.
They walked together for a while in silence.
“Kid,” said Charles, when they had turned away from the field into the avenue of elms, “you know, I did n’t enjoy winning this game very much.”
“Why not?”
