“Well, at least you’ve got a speaking acquaintance with one other,” said Rob, dryly, the smile still lurking about the corners of his mouth.
“Who do you mean? The fellow who—”
“Yes, Frank Hopkins. He’s ‘the fellow who’—”
“Well, that doesn’t help any, I guess.”
“No; no, I don’t honestly think it does,” answered Rob, with a queer look. “Because, you see, Kingsford, Hop is the captain.”
“Foot-ball captain?” cried Evan, in dismay. Rob nodded with a wicked grin.
“Well, if that isn’t luck!” exclaimed Evan, subsiding on the foot of his bed to consider the fact. “I guess that settles my chances all right, Langton.” Rob nodded.
“As I don’t want to nourish idle hopes, Kingsford, I’ll just remark that I think you’ve got the answer.”
“Shucks!” said Evan, disgustedly. “And I thought I was going to have a great time this fall playing foot-ball. I wish I’d stayed at home, as my fond mother wanted me to. Say, you’re not fooling, are you?”