“I don’t believe so.”
“I tell you he did. And there are others on that team we might use. We could promise them places on the First and use them as subs; let them into a game for a minute or two; all they want is their letters. There’s that fellow Chase; and Koehler; and—how about Kingsford?”
“Oh, he wouldn’t. He hates me like sin; you too, I guess. He hasn’t forgotten that hazing, I suppose. Never sees me any more. They say he’s got the making of a good quarter, too. I guess we got too funny with him, Ed.”
“Well, let him go, then. You see Langton and I’ll talk with the others. And we want to do it right away; to-night isn’t a bit too soon. Come on.”
“Well, I’ll see him, but I don’t want to, and I don’t believe it will do any good.”
Hopkins found Rob at home, but Evan and Malcolm were with him. Hopkins hadn’t entered Number 32 since he had sent Evan spinning through the doorway on that first day of school and he found himself confronted by three surprised countenances. Rob, however, was politeness itself.
“Hello, Hop! Come on in. Sit down if you can find anything to sit on. How’s it going? Going to kill Mifflin to-morrow?”
“Oh, I fancy we’ll win without much trouble,” answered Hopkins easily. “It was in regard to that, in a way, that I wanted to see you. I’d like your advice, Rob. Want to come down to my room a moment and let me explain?”
“Sure,” replied Rob. “Come on.” As he passed Evan he dropped the lid of his left eye in a portentous wink. In 24 Hopkins placed him in Prentiss’ easy chair. Hopkins could be very pleasant when he wanted to be and now he was as sweet as sugar.