“I’ve changed my mind,” growled Tubb stubbornly.
“I haven’t,” replied Toby pleasantly. “Come on now! We’ve got to hustle! I told them I was going to bring you, and they’ll be disappointed if I don’t.”
Tubb inelegantly expressed unbelief. “Told who?” he demanded.
“Never mind who,” said Toby, “you come on and see.” To be very truthful, Toby had quite casually mentioned to Grover Beech at noon that he was bringing another Second Team candidate out with him in the afternoon, and Beech had nodded approvingly, but that Beech would be disappointed was somewhat problematical.
“Well,” said Tubb, “I can’t go to-day. Maybe to-morrow——”
Toby stepped forward and to Tubb’s vast surprise pulled the latter swiftly to his feet. “Where’s that sweater?” he demanded. Tubb blinked, his mouth open for words that didn’t come. “Which is your closet?” continued Toby quickly. Tubb’s eyes shifted to the left and Toby pulled open a door, fumbled through the few garments hanging beyond it and pulled out a faded brown coat-sweater. “This isn’t the kind you want, but it’ll have to do,” he said briskly. He tossed it over his arm and threw back the door into the corridor. “All right! Beat it!”
Tubb’s face expressed a queer mingling of resentment and relief. But even yet he managed to find objections. “Oh, what’s the good?” he growled. “I don’t want to play football, anyway. I don’t want——”
What he didn’t want was quickly changed to what he did want, for he found himself suddenly outside in the corridor, the door closed behind him and Toby’s firm, impelling clutch on his neck. “Wait! I want my hat!” he begged.
“You don’t need a hat,” was the inexorable answer. “Go on! I tell you it’s getting late, and we’ve got to change yet. Hustle, G. W. Tubb!”
Somewhat to Toby’s surprise, Tubb hustled. He tried to make a pretense of hanging back, but he nevertheless covered the ground between dormitory and gymnasium in very good time. The locker-room in the basement was fairly packed with First and Second Team candidates, and Toby was aware of an occasional curious glance, but for the most part the occupants of the room were too busy to pay attention to him or his charge. He found the old football trousers, borrowed a pair of shoes from one neighbor and stockings from a second, and presently Tubb, presenting a rather dilapidated appearance, was attired for business. He nevertheless looked, Toby thought, a bit more presentable in the battle-scarred togs than in the shapeless and wrinkled clothes he had removed. During the operation of dressing Tubb grumbled and sneered continuously, but he was no longer fooling Toby. It was plain to be seen that Tubb was really quite as anxious to get to the field as Toby was to have him!