“I’ve improved my playing a lot the last two weeks,” said Ramsey. “Some fellows don’t like cool weather for tennis, but I do. Maybe it’s because I’m heavier and hot weather gets me. I think I’ve got the knack of the back-hand stroke now. It worried me a lot at first. That’s the first time I ever got Colcord six-three, though. He wasn’t at his best to-day, I guess.”
“Heart troubling you much nowadays?” asked Toby slyly.
“Not a bit,” answered the other unsuspiciously. “I guess Mr. Bendix was right about it. He said, you know, that he couldn’t find anything wrong with it. Sometimes I think mother was too—too anxious and imagined a lot. You know how mothers are, Tucker.”
“Yes.” Toby nodded. “My mother used to be that way, too. She used to tell my father that I wasn’t strong enough to split wood, but dad never believed her. And somehow I split it and lived to tell the tale! How are you and Tubb getting along, Ramsey?”
“Getting along? Oh, fine. Why?”
“We-ell, just at first I thought I noticed a certain—er—coolness between you.”
“Really?” Ramsey looked mildly surprised. “I don’t remember that. I like George first rate. He used to be sort of touchy and—and gloomy, but he isn’t now. Maybe he was homesick. He’s doing great things on the football team, I hear.”
“Yes.” Toby unconsciously felt of a lame hip. “Yes, he certainly is!”
When Arnold came dragging himself in just before five he found his roommate putting in some much-needed licks on his Latin. “Your friend Tubbs——” began Arnold presently.