The day had been replete with excitement for him.  First there was the keenly contested game with their rivals across the lake and a tie in the ninth inning, which gave the Bloomsbury boys a chance to win out in the tenth.  His pitching had held the enemy safe, and in their half of the inning Frank had made the hit that brought the game to a conclusion.  As a rule the home club took the last chance at the bat, but the Cranford manager had chosen differently on this occasion, for some reason of his own, and with disastrous results.

Then, on the way home, had come that little diversion aboard the launch, when his old enemy, Puss Carberry, in attempting to strike him, had miscalculated and gone plunging into the lake, himself being unable to swim.

Frank had nothing to regret in connection with his leap after the struggling lad and his subsequent saving of Puss.  True, the latter chose to crush down the natural spirit of gratitude that should have made him accept the hand Frank offered later.  But Frank felt that he could afford to smile at such an exhibition of a small nature.

At the supper table his father and Janet, his sister, just home from boarding school a couple of weeks back, plied him with questions concerning the game.  Of course, the girl had been present and had seen her brother carry off the honors on the diamond; but there were lots of things she wanted explained.

And before Frank knew it he was asked point blank what had happened on the way across the lake, for Janet had been aboard another boat, it seemed.

“Marjorie Lee told me she heard that you jumped overboard to save some one, she didn’t just know who?” was what Janet said, and the good doctor pricked up his ears as he looked inquiringly toward the boy of whom he was so proud.

Frank turned red and then laughed.

“Oh, pshaw!” he said.  “I had hoped that would be kept quiet.  But some of the fellows like to talk too much.”

“Who was it you jumped over after?  They said you held him up until the boat got around—­that he could not swim a stroke, and must surely have drowned only for your prompt action.  It couldn’t have been Cousin Andy, because he can swim nearly as well as you.  Tell us, Frank,” Janet persisted.

So Frank found himself compelled to relate the whole circumstance.  In his usual generous manner he tried to gloss over the conduct of Puss and spoke as though the other had tumbled overboard during a little boyish roughhouse business; but Janet knew of the enmity between the pair, and she could read between the lines.

Frank spent a couple of hours after supper in poring over a book Andy had loaned him.  And it might easily be assumed that it had to do with the birds, animals, fauna and inhabitants of that great country lying north of the equator, down in Central and South America.

It was about nine o’clock when his father called to him.  The doctor had just come in from a few last visits and looked anxious.