unfold. You see,
it's like this. Clint there can tell you that just the other day I was a thing
of beauty. My slender ankles were sheer and silken delights. But--and
here's the weepy place, fellows--when I disrobed I discovered that the
warmth of the weather had affected the dye in those gladsome garments
and my little footies were like unto the edible purple beet of commerce.
And I paid eighty-five cents a pair for those socks, too. I--I'm having
them washed."
When the laughter had ceased, Ruddie, who seemed a serious-minded
youth, began a story of an uncle of his who had contracted
blood-poisoning from the dye in his stockings. What ultimately
happened to the uncle Clint never discovered, for the others very rudely
broke in on Ruddie's reminiscences and the conversation became
general and varied. The boy next to Clint, whose name he learned later
was Freer, politely inquired as to how Clint liked Brimfield and
whether he played football. To the latter question Clint confided that he
did, although probably not well enough to stand much of a chance here.
"Oh, you can't tell," replied Freer encouragingly. "Come out for
practice tomorrow and see. We're got a coach here that can do wonders
with beginners."
"Of course I mean to try," said Clint. "I reckon you wear togs, don't you,
when you report?"
"Yes, come dressed to play. You'll get a workout for a week or so,
anyway. Three-thirty is the time. You won't feel lonesome. We've got
more fellows here this year than we ever had and I guess there'll be a
gang of new candidates. Got a lot of last year's 'varsity players left, too,
and we ought to be able to turn out a pretty fair team."
"Where does Captain Innes play?" Clint asked
"Centre, and he's a peach. Marvin, over there, is first-string quarter this
year. Edwards will be one of our ends and Hall will have right guard
cinched, I think."
"And where do you play?" Clint inquired.
"Half, when I play," laughed the other. "I'm going to make a good fight
for it this year. How'd you know I did play, though?"
"I--just thought so," said Clint. "You sort of look it, you know."
That seemed to please Freer. "Well, I've been at it three years," he said,
"and this is my last chance."
"I hope you make it."
"Thanks. Same to you! Well, I must get along."
The gathering was breaking up. Most of the fellows were careful to bid
Clint good night as they went and several told him to get Amy to bring
him around to see them. Captain Innes crowded his way through the
confusion of visitors and furniture and sought Clint where he stood
aside in the corner.
"I believe you play football, Thayer?" he said inquiringly.
"Yes, some."
"Well, you're modest, anyway," the big centre laughed. "Don't overdo it,
though; it doesn't pay. What's your position?"
"I played tackle at home."
"Well, you come out tomorrow and show your goods, Thayer. We need
all the talent we can get. Hope to see you do splendidly. Good night.
Awfully glad to have met you. Good night, Amy. Hope those socks
will come out all right."
"They'll never be the same," replied Amy sadly. "Their pristine
splendour--"
"Get out of here, Amy! You remind me unpleasantly of tomorrow's
English and the fact that I haven't looked at it yet!" And Freer, who was
a rather husky youth, pushed Amy into the corridor without ceremony.
On the way back to Torrence Clint asked curiously: "How do you
suppose Innes knew I played, Amy?"
"Oh, he's a discerning brute," responded the other carelessly.
"But he said he believed I did. That sounds as if someone had told him.
Did you?"
"Well," replied the other hesitantly, "now that you mention it, summon
it, as it were, to my attention, or, should I say, force it on my notice; or,
perhaps, arouse my slumbering memory--"
"Meaning you did?"
"I might have."
"When?"
"'S afternoon. We met by chance. Casually I mentioned the fact that
you were probably one of the niftiest little linemen that ever broke
through the--er--stubborn defence of a desperate enemy--"
"You idiot!"
"And that, if properly encouraged, you would very likely be willing to
lend your helpful assistance to the Dear Old Team. And he said: 'Bless
you, Amy, for them glad tidings. All is not lost, With Clint Thayer to
help us, victory may once more perch upon our pennant!' Or maybe it
was 'banner.'"
"Honest, Amy," pleaded Clint, "what did you say?"
"Only that you were rooming with me and that I'd heard you say you,
played and that I meant to bring you around to see him this evening."
"And he said?"
"He said 'Of course, bring him
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