“I wish,” said Joe this evening, “that I could do something.”
“What do you mean, do something?” asked Jack lazily, turning slightly to take his weight off a lame hip.
“Something like other fellows,” explained Joe frowningly. “I can’t play hockey or basketball or tennis or—or even skate! I can’t play football, either. Most fellows can do two or three things well. I’m no good at anything.”
“Piffle!” said Jack. “You play baseball, don’t you? And you can skate pretty well.”
“Yes, like a ton of bricks! As for baseball, well, yes, I can catch a ball if it’s thrown at me and I can bat a little and I’m fairly fast on bases. But I’m no wonder at it. I want to play something decently, Jack.”
“I suppose you’re making things out worse than they really are. Any fellow can do those stunts if he tries hard enough. Funny you don’t play tennis, though. Why?”
“I never cared for it. I guess the reason I don’t do things is because I never wanted to much before. Beside, at home—in Akron—I was always pretty busy with other things. I—I studied pretty hard——”
“There you are, then!” said Jack triumphantly. “Don’t you know that a fellow can’t be a grind and a great athlete, too? Look at me. You don’t find me being pointed out as an example of conduct, do you? You didn’t see my bookcase stuffed with prize volumes, did you? Ever hear of me getting an A, or even a B-plus, in anything? Answer, No, with a capital N! A chap simply has to choose, Joey, whether he is to make his mark one way or the other. I chose the other. It’s more fun.”
“You’re talking a lot of rot. I happen to know that you were pretty near the head in your class last year. And you never have any trouble with your studies. Besides, I was reading not long ago that the principal athletes at one of the colleges in the East—either Yale or Harvard, I think—were ’way up in their studies; honour men and things like that.”
“Oh, if you believe the newspapers——”