“But he said awhile ago, didn’t he, that you and he were quits?”
“Ye-es, but I don’t think he meant it. He doesn’t like me, I know.”
“Well,” said Dan hesitatingly, “Alf suggested—in fact, I think so, too, that you might sort of let him understand that you are ready to be friends. It won’t be necessary to say very much, I guess; you might just speak to him when you see him, and then, if you have the chance, get into conversation with him. It wouldn’t be hard.”
“I’d rather not get into either society than do that,” declared Gerald vehemently. “And—and I don’t believe you’d do it yourself, Dan!”
“Well, I don’t know,” said Dan hesitatingly. “Maybe you’re right. But I felt that I ought to let you know how things stand, so you can do as you like about—making up with Thompson. I guess this fellow Hiltz hasn’t anything against you, and so it’s up to Thompson. He can undoubtedly keep you out of the society if he wants to, Gerald. But maybe he won’t; perhaps we’re crossing our bridge before we come to it.”
Gerald was silent for a moment. Dan could see that he was greatly disappointed. Finally:
“Well,” he said, “if I can’t get in, I can’t. But I was hoping—”
“Well, we’re not beaten yet,” said Dan cheerfully. “Besides, I wouldn’t be surprised if you got an invitation from Oxford. Of course, we Cambridge fellows pretend that our society is better than the other, but there isn’t any particular difference, you know. Oxford has some dandy fellows, and you and Tom get on pretty well together, and—”
“I shan’t join Oxford,” muttered Gerald. “If I can’t get into Cambridge I don’t want to join anything.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” said Dan soothingly. “You’d have just as good fun in Oxford, Gerald. And you know some of the fellows there now, and Tom can introduce you to lots more.”