“He is—by Billy Norton,” replied Dan dryly. “He’s a star that will suffer eclipse if he doesn’t get down out of the clouds and play the game. Sayer is hot after him these days.”
“Sayer,” mused Gerald. “Yes, he was rather good last year in the Porter game. Let’s see, we dropped Porter this year, didn’t we?”
“Porter? No, we dropped Brewer. We have seven games instead of eight. Seven’s enough, too. Well, let’s go over to Cambridge and see what’s doing. I haven’t been near it yet.”
Cambridge and Oxford were the two school societies, with rooms on the top floor of Oxford Hall. On their way down the stairs they met a boy coming up. Gerald nudged Dan.
“Here he is now,” he whispered.
The boy was Kendall, and as he reached the others he glanced up, said “How do you do?” and would have gone by had not Gerald spoken.
“How are you getting on?” he asked.
“Pretty well, thanks.” Kendall paused on the step above.
“How’s football coming?” asked Dan.