“Well, I’m glad it went to the right,” laughed the Second Team captain, “for if it had come my way I’d have been just as unready for it as Weld was! Going to try for quarter, Tucker?”
“Gee, no! I’ve had all I want of it, thanks. I just did it as a sort of joke. I’m no football player, Beech, and you’ll miss my shining countenance in a day or two.”
“Oh, I hope not,” answered the other. “Better stick it out.”
“And you will, if I have my say,” he added to himself as Toby went off.
CHAPTER VII
TOBY MAKES A CALL
That evening Tubb’s letter fell to the floor when Toby moved a book on the study table, and Toby, with a qualm of conscience, rescued it and re-read it, a perplexed frown on his countenance. Then he drew a pad of paper toward him and poised his pen above it. But that is as far as he got. After a minute of thought he put the pen down and resolutely, if reluctantly, pushed back his chair. “How late is the office open, Arn?” he asked.
“Eight, I think,” replied his roommate, without raising his eyes from his work. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing. I—just want to find out where some one lives. Back after a bit.”