“So,” continued the Principal drily, “I think it will be best if you detach yourself from football interests for—for awhile, Foster.”
Silence ensued. Myron gulped. Then he asked in a small voice: “How long, sir?”
“Oh, we won’t decide that now.” Jud’s voice and manner struck Myron as being far too bright and flippant. “We’ll see how it works out. I’ve known it to work very nicely in many cases. I shall expect to hear better—much better—accounts of you from Mr. Addicks, Foster. Good morning.”
And that is why Myron didn’t go bowling off to the station with the rest of the team, and why Kearns and Houghton played the full-back position that afternoon, and why, after a miserable six hours spent in mooning about a deserted campus and a lonely room, Myron packed a suit-case with a few of his yellow-hued shirts and similar necessities and unobtrusively made his way to Maple Street in the early gloom of the October evening.
[CHAPTER XX]
ANDY TAKES A JOURNEY
At a few minutes past eight that evening Joe clattered hurriedly up the stairs of the house in Mill Street and thumped imperatively at Andrew’s door. Just why he thumped didn’t appear, since he threw the door open without waiting for permission. Andrew looked up inquiringly from his book in the yellow radius of light around the table.
“Hello,” he greeted. “Slide under the bed and maybe they won’t find you.”