“Any kind; just books,” replied Kendall simply.
“Well, there’s one kind I haven’t any love for, and that’s text-books,” said Towne, frowning at the array before him. “You could have a mighty good time here at Yardley if you didn’t have to study so blamed hard.”
“Y-yes, but of course a fellow expects to have to study,” answered Kendall. “I don’t mind that. I guess I sort of like it. Still, I want to have time enough to play football.”
“Say, are you one of those athletic cranks?” demanded Towne distastefully.
“I don’t believe so. I don’t know anything about athletics. I’d like to play football, though. Do you play?”
“Me? Well, I guess not! You don’t catch me wearing my young life away doing those stunts. A good game of tennis now and then is all right, but this thing of working like a slave for a couple of hours every afternoon and getting your bones cracked isn’t my way, let me tell you! I don’t mind seeing a good game sometimes, but I’m no martyr. Besides, if you make the team you have to go to training table and be just about half starved. Not for mine, thank you!”
“That so? I guess I could stand it if they’d let me play. What do you do to get on the team? Just go to the captain and tell him you want to play?”
Towne grinned delightedly at the new boy’s simplicity for an instant, and then, banishing his smile quickly, nodded. “Yes,” he replied carelessly, “just see the captain and tell him. And, by the way, it’s a good plan to see him pretty soon; so many fellows want places, you know; they might be all gone by the time you get there. See?”
“Yes, thank you. I guess I’d better find him the first thing in the morning. I wasn’t sure whether that was the way you did it. At the meeting to-night they said something about reporting on the field, and I thought maybe—”
“What’s the good of waiting until morning?” asked Towne, hiding his pleasure under a grave face. “Vinton rooms just down the corridor; Number 28; why don’t you run down there now and put in your application?”