Andrew was as good as his word. Joe viewed him anxiously. “Did you get it?” he asked.
Andrew nodded. “Yes. I told Mr. Hoyt I had to be away overnight on important matters. He hemmed a bit at first, but finally came around. So that’s all right. I feel rather better for having faculty’s blessing, Joe.” Ten minutes later the long train rolled in and Andrew climbed aboard. He was going into a day coach, but Joe pulled him back and hurried him down the platform, past a hundred lighted windows and hustled him into a parlour-car. “Might as well be as comfortable as you can,” he explained. “You can get a pretty fair nap in one of those chairs if you don’t mind waking up with a broken neck! Good-bye and good luck, Andy!”
“Good-bye. See you tomorrow afternoon or evening. Don’t forget Tess and the puppies!”
Then the train pulled out and Joe heaved a sigh of relief and made his way back to the campus and Williams Hall and the indignant Mr. Wynant.
About the same time Coach Driscoll and Captain Mellen were talking things over in the former’s lodgings. Parkinson had played smooth, hard football that afternoon, bringing encouragement to both, and their countenances still reflected satisfaction. “Looks as though we had struck our gait at last, Cap,” said Mr. Driscoll, puffing comfortably at his pipe.
“It does look so,” agreed Jud. “It’s time, too, with only two more games before Kenwood.”
“Well, I’d rather see a team come slowly and not reach the peak too early in the season. I’m more afraid of slumps than the smallpox, Mellen. Remember year before last’s experience?”
Jud nodded. “If we can hold it where it is, Coach, we’ll be all right, I guess. Some of the fellows certainly played themselves proud today: Keith and Meldrum and Norris——”
“And Mellen,” suggested Mr. Driscoll, smiling through the smoke.