“Oh, I don’t know,” laughed Norman; “probably nothing at all. I was only mentioning an improbable chance of such a thing. But, if he were, the Greystone supporters would be in line to win a heap of dough.”
“What kind of a place is Greystone?” asked Hazel.
“About the size of Granard. People of the town are just as loyal to their college as we are here. Maybe a little rougher crowd than ours.”
“Do you think Tut Miller has any chance of being put in for part of the game?” asked Patricia anxiously, the conversation of the morning recurring to her.
“How should I know?” questioned the boy, looking straight into Patricia’s eyes with a peculiar, twisted smile.
“You must know all the gridiron gossip,” asserted Hazel.
“Why should I? I’m neither coach nor manager.”
“No, but you watch practice a lot,” said Patricia before Hazel could reply.
“How do you know?” he inquired curtly.
Patricia laughed. “Did you ever know anything to be kept quiet in a college community?”