“Not exactly,” replied Lindsay, hesitating to own his opinion in the face of authority. “Some of it I thought pretty good.”
Marchmont laughed: “That’s because it’s new to you. The poorest circus has it beaten by a mile. I’ve read a novel ’most through this afternoon.”
Lindsay moved toward the door. He really had no reason for a call, and many reasons for being at home at his desk.
“What’s your hurry? You can’t study after the dead strain of that kind of a show. Let’s have a couple of hands of poker. We’ll make the ante small.”
Marchmont opened a drawer for the cards, while Lindsay picked up his hat.
“I really must go,” said the visitor, shamefacedly. “I’ve got work I really ought to do.”
“Well, sorry you can’t stay,” replied Marchmont, smiling politely. “We’ll try it some other day.”
Lindsay trudged home in ill humor, cursing himself for not having the courage to say frankly that he did not play cards for money, and conscious that Marchmont understood him full well. All together it had been an afternoon of very mixed impressions.
CHAPTER VI
INDUSTRIES OF THE TWINS
On the Sunday after the gymnasium exhibition came a snowstorm. It began long before dawn and piled the snow higher and higher all through the hours of daylight, slackening only as the early twilight fell. Marchmont was not the only student who found in the weather an excuse for staying away from church; but he was possibly alone in preparing his luncheon at home, and so establishing his excuse on a consistent basis. At his boarding-house the Sunday dinner came fortunately at night.