“Buck up, Mr. Pennimore! Never say die, you know.”
But Gerald’s countenance didn’t clear. “That’s all well enough for you,” he grumbled, “for Andy treats you right. And Maury makes a fuss about you, because you’re our crack pole vaulter. But they don’t care a button whether I get along or not. I guess they’re just laughing at me behind my back. Guess they think I’m sort of a fresh kid for wanting to make the team. I’ve seen fellows kind of grin as I went by on the track.”
“Oh, come, Gerald, that’s nonsense!” said Arthur, heartily. “Nobody’s laughing at you, I’ll bet. It’s plucky of you to try for the track squad, and I guess every fellow thinks that way. And don’t get discouraged about it. Even if you don’t do terribly well this year, you’ve got two more years here, and college afterward.”
“But I’m going to do well this year,” replied Gerald, determinedly. Adding, less assuredly, “If they’ll give me a fair show, I mean.”
“And they will. Why shouldn’t they? Don’t you think Andy and Maury want to win the Duals as much as you do? Not to treat you fair would be cutting off their nose to spite their face, wouldn’t it?”
“I suppose so,” answered Gerald. Then he laughed. “Andy would have a hard time cutting off his nose, wouldn’t he? He couldn’t find it, I guess!”