“Not so much of a one as I thought it was going to be,” Hollister confessed. “Told me I had to brace up and cut out football off the field. I’d like to have told him that it was just what you advised last night, but I didn’t.”
Dick laughed.
“Glad to have my judgment confirmed from so eminent a source,” he smiled. “I hope you’ll take some of this advice which is being thrown at you so plentifully.”
Hollister’s face fell.
“After to-night I will,” he said hastily. “I’ve got to think out that combination of Fullerton’s, you know; but to-morrow I really will begin to dig good and hard.”
Merriwell’s face grew a little serious.
“Think that’s wise, Bob?” he asked quietly. “I’ve noticed that the resolutions which we put off until to-morrow never materialize. They always get shoved on to another to-morrow. It’s none of my business, old fellow, but I should hate like the mischief to have anything happen so that you couldn’t keep on with the class.”
“Oh, they won’t drop me,” Hollister said confidently. “Even the dean said he’d noticed my work on the field and thought I ought to have a little latitude. I’ll make it up after the season’s over, Dick. I’ll turn into such a grind you won’t know me. Gee! I’ve got to get a hustle on or I won’t get round to supper.”
He hurried off without giving Dick a chance to reply. It almost seemed as if he were afraid of what his friend might say, but there was no fear of Merriwell’s following him up with advice which was apparently not wanted.
As he glanced after Hollister there was a look of regret in Dick’s dark eyes. He knew just about how far Bob would go with his resolutions of turning over a new leaf, and it worried him a little to think of the chances his friend was taking.