The talk drifted to other subjects, and for half an hour Carr entertained the fellows with stories and amusing anecdotes. He was a good talker and had apparently had all sorts of interesting experiences, but he also knew when to leave off. As the clock struck half-past nine he arose briskly to his feet.
“Well, boys, I must be running along,” he said, with a smile. “Had a bully evening, Keran, and no end glad to meet these friends of yours. I’ll see you all again before Saturday, I hope.”
He slipped into his overcoat and started toward the door. At that moment Kenny recollected that he ought to do some studying that night, so he followed the older man out.
At the head of the stairs they said good night again, and, as they shook hands, the quarter back said carelessly:
“If you’d care to drop in and see me some night, I’d be awfully glad to have you. My rooms are on the next floor.”
“Thanks very much,” returned Carr. “I’ll take you up some night and smoke a cigar with you. By-by.”
CHAPTER XXV
THE EXPLOSION.
Jack Kenny, arrayed in his well-worn, faded football togs, sat lacing up his shoes. He was feeling fine. His grouch of the night before had pretty well worn off, and, as he pulled the laces tight, he warbled a little ditty which had just been going the rounds of New Haven:
“There was a girl in our town,