Later, in the club car, David found Cram reading a magazine. He walked up to him.
“You forgot to return my time-table, I think,” he said.
“Time-table? Oh, yes, here it is. I did take it, didn’t I? Sorry, and thanks.”
“That’s all right,” said David, turning.
“Wait!” Cram exclaimed. “Sit down. I’d like to talk to you. I am wondering if you are going to Ayre.”
“I think it is marked on my time-table,” returned David.
“I noticed it. It doesn’t happen that you are going down for the examinations at Goodlow’s, does it?”
“On account of my name being the same as an aviator?” laughed David. “As a matter of fact, I am going for the exams.”
Cram shook his head. “That’s almost too bad,” he said. “You’ve come a long way, but I’m afraid you won’t have the ghost of a chance, unless you brought a lot of credentials, letters from your teachers, and congressmen, and senators, and so on. No? Well, they tell me it is going to take a lot of pull to get in, a darned lot of pull. You see, these people want to interest influence and money, and they are going to give first chance to the applicants who can do ’em the most good that way.”
“That’s too bad,” said David, without showing any particular anxiety. “I can’t show a letter from a single senator. I had an idea that this was strictly a personal merit proposition.”