“Hope, you’re not looking well. I want you to lay off for a week. You’re stale; I could see that by your work to-day, and your face tells as much now. We can’t risk you getting laid up, you know.”
“I feel pretty well,” answered Dick. “But I don’t blame you for thinking I’m stale after the exhibition I made to-day,” he added bitterly. “I don’t know what got into me; I rowed like a—like a chump!”
“Well, don’t let that trouble you,” replied Kirk, soothingly. “It’s bound to happen once in a while; I never saw a crew captain yet that didn’t go off his work for a bit at some stage in the game; in fact, I should be rather afraid of one that didn’t; I should think he was like the Sunday-school books—too good to be true. How’s your appetite?”
“Pretty fair.”
“Sleep well?”
“Not very.”
“Why?”
“Because—— Oh, I suppose it’s because of the wretched state things are in.”
“Crew, you mean?”
Dick nodded.