The little Irishman looked at him speculatively a moment.
“How long before they’ll let you come back?” he asked. Gerald shook his head.
“They didn’t say.”
“Well, anyway, it would do you no harm to keep your muscles hard, my boy. Get your trunks on and stretch your legs, why don’t you? No one’s stopping you.”
“Could I, do you think?” asked Gerald, eagerly.
“Why not? Sure, they won’t be wanting you to get sick for lack of exercise.”
“I guess I’d better ask Mr. Collins,” said Gerald. “If he lets me I will, you bet!”
“But, mind you, I’ve got nothing to do with it,” warned Andy. “It’s not with the squad you’re to run.”
“I know,” answered Gerald. “But it would be fine to get to work again. Do you think he will let me, Andy?” Andy shrugged his shoulders as he turned to give his attention to the quarter-miler who was tearing down the track toward the finish.
“He might, an’ then again he mightn’t. I’d ask him.”