“I—I told him I’d be glad to have him look me up. He—he doesn’t know many fellows, and——”
“Oh, I see.” Gerald crumpled up the card and tossed it into the waste basket. “All right, but he must be a silly chump to leave a calling card here. What does he think this is? Fifth Avenue?”
“If you’d rather he didn’t call——” began Kendall.
“Not a bit of it. Maybe he’s better than he looks. You ask any fellows you want, Kendall. Personally, I don’t think I’d ever get very fond of Mr. Cotton, but if you like him it’s all right.”
“I don’t think I do—very much. Only he seemed kind of out of it, and I thought if he came in here some time he might meet some of the fellows. He’s out for the team, you know.”
“Not the football team?” asked Gerald, pausing in the middle of a yawn. Kendall nodded. Gerald grinned and completed his yawn. Then, “Well, he’s got plenty of cheek, hasn’t he? Fancy Mr. Cotton playing football! If I wasn’t so sleepy, Kendall, I’d laugh!”
“And if I wasn’t so sleepy,” murmured Kendall, “I’d have a go at my German.”
“Oh, hush,” said Gerald, crawling into bed with a long sigh of delight. “Don’t mention study to a man—who’s just been—rescued—watery grave——”
Then he slept.