As a matter of fact, Lawrence had had no previous knowledge whatever of Westby; Irving had always withstood his impulse to confide his troubles. He made now an effort to draw Westby forward and reinstate him in the conversation; he said,—
“Lawrence, you and Westby here may come against each other this afternoon; Westby’s first substitute for one of the half-backs on the School eleven.”
Lawrence said, “That’s good,” and gave Westby hardly a glance.
After luncheon, walking down to the athletic field with Westby, Carroll said jeeringly,—
“Well, Kiddy Upton’s brother is no myth, is he, Wes?”
At that Westby began to splutter. “Conceited chump! He makes me tired. Of all the fresh things—to sit up there and talk about the ‘kids’ in Kiddy’s dormitory!”
Carroll laughed in his silent, irritating way. “He certainly put you down and out—a good hard one. Why, even Kiddy was sorry for you.”
Westby went on fuming. “Sorry for me! I guess Kiddy had been whining to him about how I’d worried him. That’s why the chump had it in for me.”
“Chump, Wes! Such a peach of a good looker?”
“Oh, shut up. I don’t care if he is good looking; he’s fresher than paint.”