“Yes, but that wasn’t what I wanted to talk to you about,” he said quickly. “It’s these confounded warnings. I never got one of them before this fall.”
His tone was almost angry.
“As I remember,” Dick remarked, “you never used to have any trouble keeping up in your studies, but still had plenty of time for almost anything in the line of athletics you wanted to do.”
A frown corrugated Hollister’s forehead.
“Exactly,” he returned. “It looks to me as if the profs did the thing on purpose just to worry me when they ought to know I’ve got to give all my time to football. It’s a rotten shame!”
Dick did not answer for a moment.
“I hardly think that’s it, Bob,” he said presently. “There wouldn’t be any object in their doing that. I don’t believe they like giving a fellow’s name to the dean. I know Goodhue doesn’t, for he’s told me so. He doesn’t have a man warned until it’s absolutely necessary. No, I’m afraid the trouble is altogether with you. You don’t bone enough.”
Hollister smiled wryly.
“I don’t grind at all,” he said quickly. “Somehow, there doesn’t seem to be any time.”
Dick smiled.