“I just thought you might like to come around to our rooms and meet Clarence Carr, Archie’s brother,” Keran answered. “You remember Archie Carr, who graduated two years ago, don’t you?”
“Surest thing you know,” Kenny returned, brightening up a little. “He substituted on the varsity the year I was captain of the scrub. I don’t ever remember his brother, though.”
“Nice chap,” commented Keran. “Broker, I understand, and is taking a few days off to rest up after a bear raid on the market. He’s stopping at the New Haven House.”
“Yale man?”
“Nope, Brown. But he’s all for old Eli on his brother’s account. Crazy about football, and is going to stay over for the game Saturday.”
They crossed Elm Street and struck into the campus by Durfee. Keran and Kenny both had quarters in Vanderbilt, and five minutes later they were settled in the latter’s comfortable sitting room on the third floor. Carr had not yet arrived, but presently a couple of other fellows strolled in, and about half-past seven there came a brisk knock on the door.
Keran at once sprang up, and, opening it, ushered in a slim, erect man of about thirty, with keen, dark eyes, rather good-looking features, and fairly bubbling over with vim and good spirits.
“How are you, old fellow!” he exclaimed, shaking Keran’s hand. “Great of you to have me here. Archie said I mustn’t lose any time in looking up ‘Old Phil,’ as he calls you, the minute I set foot in New Haven.”
“Glad to see you again, Mr. Carr,” Keran returned cordially, as he took his guest’s coat and hat. “I recognized your voice perfectly over the phone this morning.”
“Really?” exclaimed Carr. “You’ve got a good memory. Why, we only met once, and that was three years ago.”