``Miss Huling, I'll pitch your game for two
things,'' he continued.
``Name them.''
``Wear Yale blue in place of that orange-and-
black Princeton pin.''
``I will.'' She said it with a shyness, a look in
her eyes that made Wayne wince. What a perfect
little actress! But there seemed just a chance
that this was not deceit. For an instant he
wavered, held back by subtle, finer intuition; then
he beat down the mounting influence of truth in
those dark-blue eyes, and spoke deliberately:
``The other thing is--if I win the game--a
kiss.''
Dorothy Huling's face flamed scarlet. But this
did not affect Wayne so deeply, though it showed
him his mistake, as the darkening shadow of
disappointment in her eyes. If she had been a flirt,
she would have been prepared for rudeness. He
began casting about in his mind for some apology,
some mitigation of his offense; but as he was
about to speak, the sudden fading of her color,
leaving her pale, and the look in her proud, dark
eyes disconcerted him out of utterance.
``Certainly, Mr. Wayne. I agree to your price
if you win the game.''
But how immeasurable was the distance
between the shy consent to wear Yale blue, and the
pale, surprised agreement to his second proposal!
Wayne experienced a strange sensation of personal loss.
While he endeavored to find his tongue, Miss
Huling spoke to one of the boys standing near,
and he started off on a run for the field.
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