He greeted Kenny and the other men with a smile and hearty handclasp, and then settled down in an easy-chair and pulled out a cigar case.
“I won’t offer you one, Keran,” he smiled, “because I know you shouldn’t take it, but perhaps your friends will indulge. I’ll guarantee they’re pretty good.”
He extended the case to Kenny, who sat nearest him. The quarter back shook his head.
“No, thanks. I’m in Phil’s class.”
“Don’t you believe it,” grinned Keran. “He’s a sight more important to the varsity than I ever could be. Why, I only got in after the Princeton game by the skin of my teeth, whereas he’s been quarter back for two years running.”
Mr. Carr seemed much interested. Proffering the case to the other two men, who each took a cigar, he selected a weed himself and returned the rest to his pocket.
“Well, well,” he remarked briskly. “Quarter, eh? That’s a pretty responsible job. In my day the quarter back was the brains of the team.”
“So he is to-day,” Keran said quickly. “He would be at New Haven if we didn’t have a fellow like Tempest trying to——”
He stopped abruptly, and his face flushed a little. In his haste he had said rather more than he had intended, considering that Carr was a comparative stranger.
The latter held the lighted match suspended in the air about six inches away from his cigar, while he surveyed Keran’s embarrassed face with his keen black eyes.