“Not a bit. Of course I’ve exaggerated a trifle about the exclusiveness of our foot-ball society; it isn’t quite as bad as I made it out; but it’s bad enough. If you happen to be a crackajack player with a reputation behind you, one of those prep school stars that come along once in a while, you’re all right. But otherwise, Kingsford, you’ll have a mighty hard time breaking into Hop’s foot-ball trust. I know, for I tried it myself last year.”
“Oh, do you play?”
“I used to think so, but after working like a horse for three weeks and then pining away for a fortnight on the side-lines, I changed my mind. I know how to play, but I don’t play. You catch my meaning, I hope.”
“Yes,” said Evan, gloomily. “Still, I guess I’ll have a try.”
“Of course you will,” said Rob, cheerfully. “It won’t do any harm, and you might even have a little fun. Besides, miracles still happen; you might get a place on the second team as third substitute. By the way, where do you play?”
“I’ve played quarter mostly; sometimes half. I was quarter last year.”
“On your school team?”
“Yes, grammar school. We won every game except one, too.”
“Well, you might let that information leak out in Hop’s direction; perhaps he will give you a fair show. Only thing is, I’m afraid he’s taken a—a sort of prejudice against you.”
“I guess he has,” laughed Evan. “And, for that matter, I’m not crazy about him. Still, if he will let me on the team, I’ll forgive him for mashing my nose flat.”