“Yes, I know Tommy. Didn’t know he was a tennis player, though.”
“He isn’t,” laughed Ramsey. “At least, not much of one. But neither am I just now, and I sort of like to play with a chap I can lick now and then. Maybe it isn’t good practice, though. There’s a fellow named Colcord who gave me a couple of sets this afternoon. He’s pretty good at it. Beat me both sets, 6 to 3. I’d like to take you on again, Tucker. I guess I could give you a better fight now that I’ve had some practice. Mr. Bendix says it’ll take several weeks to get my muscles loosened up.”
“I dare say. Had much trouble with your heart lately?”
“N-no, very little. I get out of breath pretty easily, but Mr. Bendix says that’s because I’m carrying too much weight. Maybe my heart’s all right after all, just as he says it is. He sort of—what I mean is, you can’t help believing what he says, can you? He’s supposed to know a lot about physical training and—and all that, isn’t he?” Toby nodded assent. “I like him a lot, anyway, and I’m doing just what he tells me, even to nearly freezing in here with the windows open.”
Toby laughed. “Thought you said you were used to cold rooms, Ramsey!”
“Well, I—I meant I was getting used to them,” answered the other, grinning.
“Tubb is still with the Second Team, I hear,” said Toby.
“Yes. That reminds me! He was quite excited this afternoon because you weren’t on the field. Don’t know what business it is of his, but he kept chewing the rag about it.”
“No, I—I cut practice to-day. Fact is, I——” Then he stopped. He had been about to add that he was through with football for the season, but he suddenly realized that it wasn’t true, that to-morrow would find him back again. “How’s Tubb getting on?” he asked instead.