“No, sir, but the rent isn’t very much, you see.”
“This is your first year, you said, didn’t you? Second class?”
“Third, sir. Maybe I ought to be in the second. I’m nearly sixteen—”
“You look fully that. I wouldn’t worry. I didn’t get out of here until I was eighteen, and I’ve never regretted it. What do you do besides hockey, Tucker? Go in for football any?”
“I tried for the second last Fall, but I didn’t make it. They said I was too light, but I guess it was because I didn’t play well enough.”
Mr. Loring laughed. “You seem honest with yourself, my boy! Now, about hockey. Like it, do you?”
“Very much, sir.”
“Did you want to play goal or did some one just put you there?”
“I was put,” answered Toby, smiling. “I didn’t know much about it when I started to play. I tried being a forward, but I couldn’t seem to get the hang of it. I don’t—don’t skate very fancy.”
“Well, I don’t remember that I did,” was the reply. “But I managed to get around pretty well and they made me captain finally. So that needn’t bother you, Tucker.”