“That’s right. Oh, I have done some boning, and I haven’t cut lectures any more than the rest of the team did. You simply have to cut some if you play all the games, and I didn’t miss any contests, you can make up your mind to that. Most all of us at the Ball and Bat play either on the diamond, or gridiron, or row on the crew. I say though, maybe you’re that way yourself?” and Reddy looked questioningly at our hero.
“Well,” admitted Tom, modestly, “I can row a bit, and I like baseball. I’ve never played football much. I wasn’t quite heavy enough for the team at our Academy.”
“You look husky enough,” spoke Reddy, casting a critical pair of blue eyes over his seatmate. “You ought to try for the eleven down at Elmwood.”
“Maybe I will. Think I’d have a chance?”
“It’s too early to say, but have a try, anyhow.”
“Are any of the professors very savage?” asked Tom.
“Only so-so. Doctor Pliny Meredith is head master, I suppose you know.”
“Yes. How is he?”
“As full of learning as a crab is of meat in the middle of August, but he’s not very jolly. Rather stand-offish, and distant, though sometimes he warms up. We call him ‘Merry’ because he’s usually so glum. But he’s fair, and he thinks Elmwood Hall the greatest institution ever. To him a fellow’s word is as good as his bond. It all goes on the honor system there. No profs. at the exams., you know, and all that. You have to be a gentleman at Elmwood.”