“Just—just thinking,” replied Sam soberly.
“You want to break yourself of that,” responded Tom, with a warning shake of his head. “It’ll get to be a habit. What’s new? How did practice go? Sorry I had to cut to-day.”
“Pretty fair, I think. I guess I’ll have to call it off soon. A lot of the fellows are trying for the football team. Sidney left to-day; Buster, too.”
“Yes, you couldn’t keep Sid away from a pigskin if you tied him. By the way, Mr. Hall was in here about an hour ago asking for you. Said I was to tell you to go around to the club this evening. Wants to see you about something. I think he said he’d had a letter from Mr. York.”
Sam nodded. “Yes, I guess I know what it is,” he said. “I had a letter from Mr. York this morning; or, rather, a note. He—he’s got the contract, Tom.”
“For the new Adams Building? That’s good. Hope they’ll make it fireproof this time. How is he?”
“All right, I guess. He didn’t say. He didn’t write much; only five or six lines. He said his firm had got the contract and that—that he’d have a job for me next month.”
“Really? Bully for you, Sam! Say, that’s fine! I’m awfully glad. What are you going to do—stand on the top of the building and catch beams and things?”
“N-no, I guess it will be something about the office. I don’t know yet. But I’m mighty glad because I guess I’ll be able to make enough to start college next fall.”
“Pshaw, you won’t need money, Sam! Why, I’ll bet there isn’t a college in the country that wouldn’t be tickled to get as celebrated a chap as you! You know, old man, you’re a bit of a hero. Mr. Hall says you had a whole page to yourself in one of the New York papers on Sunday.”