The next forenoon Dan encountered the coach in front of Whitson Hall. He didn’t see Mr. Payson coming until he was almost up to him and so he had scant time in which to fix his features into the desired expression. What Dan would have liked to have conveyed by his expression was a polite affability, slightly tinged by contemptuous amusement and haughty indifference. Rather a large order, but Dan was pretty certain that he could have managed it had he had time. What he didn’t want Mr. Payson to read on his face was disappointment, or even concern. Unfortunately, however, the coach came out of Whitson and ran down the steps just as Dan came abreast of the entrance, and he never knew just what his countenance did express at that moment. The coach saw him at once and nodded. Dan said “Good morning,” and was for passing on, but Mr. Payson was going the same way and in an instant had ranged himself alongside. He seemed to be in very good spirits, Dan thought.
“A fine morning, Vinton,” said Mr. Payson “What’s next on the programme?”
“Math, sir.”
“Who do you have?”
“Kil—that is, Mr. McIntyre.” The coach smiled.
“Kilts will do, Vinton. They call me worse than that and I never make a whine. By the way, have you been thinking about this forward pass business? Remember a talk we had?”
“Yes, sir, but I haven’t had much time.”
“Oh.” Dan thought the coach’s voice expressed something of disappointment. “Well, that’s all right, of course. But when you have a spare moment now and then I wish you’d think it over. We’ve got to work out a good forward pass offense, Vinton, and several heads are better than one. You led your team last year and you had to do some thinking for yourself, I guess. Now see if you can’t plan something that will help us this fall. You’re a new boy here, but you want to see Yardley win just as much as anyone else, don’t you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Of course you do. And so—am I keeping you?”