noon
It was a great game , the greatest game in the world . He already began to look forward to to-morrow , when he was to leave the office and go out upon the field of action with Bat Truxton with an eagerness such as he had felt in the old college days on the eve of the big Thanksgiving football game . Something of the spirit which had made old William Conniston the dynamic , forceful man of business which he had always been , and which had never before manifested itself in old Conniston 's son , suddenly awoke and shook itself , active , eager , the fighting spirit of a fighting man . At noon Billy Jordan pushed back his chair and got to his feet , stretching his arms high over his head . `` Time to eat , '' he said , picking up his hat . `` Coming , Mr. Conniston ? '' `` And you ? ''