"Far from it, Tom. Mr. Murray is a newspaper man. He came over to get the line-up for to-morrow's game from Mr. Robey and got here just as they were talking about that silly stunt of mine. He laid around and waited for me and got it all out before I knew he was a newspaper chap. Now he wants to see you. I think he wants your photograph, Tom!"
"You were a silly ass to talk to him, Steve. He will go and put it in the paper, I suppose."
"Wouldn't be surprised," agreed Steve, smiling. "He seemed to think he had a fine yarn. Of course I laid it on pretty thick about your heroism and all that."
Tom viewed him darkly as he got into his coat. "If you did I'll—I'll——"
"Take me back to the Sound and drop me in again! No, I didn't, Tom, but he does know all about it and of course he will put it in the papers. 'Boots' says the—the Something-or-Other Press will get hold of it and send it all over the country. I've been wondering whether we ought to telegraph the folks so they won't have a fit if they read about it to-morrow."
"What's the use? They'll know you're all right. Bet you that Mr. Newspaper Man doesn't catch me, though! Who's that hitting the ivories?"
"Gleason, I guess. He was playing before supper. He's fine, too. Knows a whole bunch of college songs and stuff from the musical shows. We're going to have a concert after practice. They say Danny Moore can sing like a bird. Andy was telling me that last year they had a regular vaudeville show here. Everybody did something, you know; sang or danced or spoke a piece. It must have been lots of fun. I wish——"
Steve, who had been wandering around the room, hands in pockets, paused as he caught the expression on Tom's face. "What's the matter?" he asked.
"That's what I want to know," replied Tom. "Seems to me you're mighty chatty all of a sudden. Is it the effect of the bath?"
Steve smiled, sighed and shook his head. "Tom," he said, "I've just got to talk or do something this evening. I—I'm as nervous as a—a cat! Ever feel that way?"