“I guess I haven’t got anything against you—after yesterday,” replied Gerald gravely.
“That’s the way to talk!” said Thompson, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’ve noticed that you didn’t see me when we passed, and I don’t like that. I don’t like fellows to be stand-offish with me. I haven’t anything against you, and so—”
“If you haven’t anything against me,” blurted Gerald, “why did you keep me out of Cambridge?”
“Keep you out of Cambridge? Me? I never did!”
“Oh, get out!” scoffed Gerald warmly.
“Honest, I didn’t, Pennimore. Look here, I haven’t any right to tell you this, but—but if I don’t you won’t believe me, I guess. It was Jake Hiltz that blackballed you.”
“Hiltz? I don’t know him even by sight,” exclaimed Gerald perplexedly. Thompson nodded.
“I know, but he knows you. You see, Hiltz and a fellow named Jones, Tubby Jones we called him, were pretty good friends. Jones used to room with Vinton in the Fall.”
“Yes,” said Gerald. “I knew him.”