“I didn’t mean to do that,” replied the quarter-back, “only I’m not going to have him mixing in with anyone I care for.”
“And I presume that is intended as much for Madge as it is for me!” whispered Ruth, with a laugh at her brother’s blushes, which were visible under the bronze of his tan.
“Oh, don’t——” he began, and then the others came up.
“Well, what about us, fellows?” asked Tom, when the inseparables were in their room that night, rather sore and tired from the game.
“We can’t pat ourselves on the back, and vote ourselves gold medals,” declared Phil. “I hear that Lighton and old Kindlings are having a consultation, and there may be a shift of some of the players.”
“I hope he puts me on the other end,” exploded Tom. “Bascome didn’t support me at all to-day.”
“Now, don’t get to feeling that way over it!” cautioned Phil, quickly. “That spirit makes a team go to pieces sooner than anything else.”
“Oh, I’m not going to disrupt the team!” declared Tom. “I think, though——”
He stopped suddenly, and appeared to be listening. Phil sat up on the old sofa, and Sid looked questioningly toward the door.
“Someone’s out in the corridor,” he whispered.