It was Eliot who asked the question, and Springer, pausing with one foot on the academy steps, replied:
"Oh, it's some bub-better, I think."
"Glad to hear it," said Roger, slipping his arm through Springer's. "Come on, let's walk over yonder to the fence. I want to have a little chin with you. It will be ten minutes yet before school begins."
Together they walked to the fence at the back of the yard, pausing beneath one of the tall old trees which was putting forth tender green leaves. Leaning against the fence, the captain of the nine faced his companion.
"As a rule," he began, "you've been a great enthusiast over baseball, and I didn't think you'd let a slight cold keep you away from practice. Exercise is one of the best remedies for a cold, if a person takes care of himself when he's through exercising."
"I know that," said Phil, poking his toe into an ant's nest and declining to meet Roger's steady, level gaze; "but, really, I—I was feeling pretty rotten, you know, and I didn't have mum-much heart for practice."
"Yes," said the captain, "I'm afraid that was the principal trouble—you didn't have much heart for it. You lost heart in the game, and you haven't braced up yet. I hardly thought it of you, Phil; I didn't expect you to play the baby."
"The baby!" exclaimed Springer resentfully.
"Yes; that's just what you've been doing. I made up my mind to speak plainly to you, and I'm going to do so—for your own good. You've been sulking, old fellow. It doesn't pay, Phil; you're hurting yourself far more than any one else."
"I don't think you've got any right to call it sulking," objected Springer in a low tone. "I own up that I did feel bad about the way things went in that gug-game; but I caught a cold, and I decided to take care of myself in order to get back into my best condition."