“I am afraid you might have an attack of neuralgic headache during the night,” said Philip, laughing.
Professor Riccabocca saw that it would be of no use for him to press the request, and allowed himself to be conducted to the same room which he had so unceremoniously left a short time before.
During the afternoon, Philip had a call from John Turner, the secretary of the Young Men’s Club. He was a pleasant, straightforward young man, of perhaps twenty.
“We are very much obliged to you, Mr. Gray,” he said, “for kindly consenting to play for our benefit.”
“It is for my interest,” said Philip frankly. “I may as well remain here and earn ten dollars as to be idle.”
“But you made a great deal more, I understand, in Wilkesville?”
“Yes; but I might not be as fortunate here. I had not intended to appear here at all, and should not have done so unless you had invited me. How many have you in your club?”
“Only about twenty-five, so far, and some of us are not able to pay much.”
“How long has your club been formed?” asked Philip.
“Only about three months. We wanted a place where we could meet together socially in the evening, and have a good time. Before, we had only the stores and barrooms to go to, and there we were tempted to drink. Our club was started in the interests of temperance, and we can see already that it is exerting a good influence.”