Steve smiled none too heartily and cast a glance toward Williams. But the latter's blank expression showed that the allusion meant nothing to him and proved that, as far as Williams was concerned, Miller had kept his promise of secrecy.
"No, not yet," answered Steve. "I thought I'd just drop in a minute and call."
"Of course. Glad you did. How's your friend?"
"Tom! He's fine, thanks. I—he wasn't through studying, so I didn't wait for him."
"And how's football going?" asked Andy. "Getting on pretty well?"
"I think so. Not so very well, though. I—I don't seem to please Marvin very well with tackling."
"Oh, you'll get onto that all right," said Andy cheerfully. "Fact is, I don't think a fellow ever really learns much at the dummy. It's dumping a chap in real playing that shows you what's wanted. Don't you think so, Hat?"
"Dummy practice is a good thing," answered Williams morosely.
He sat tilted back on the chair, hands in pockets, staring at the floor. He seemed a gloomy sort of fellow, Steve thought, and was relieved when Williams added: "Guess I'll run over to Johnny's for a minute," and, muttering something about being glad to have met the visitor, found a cap and wandered out.
"I suppose," said Steve, when the door had closed, "it's necessary for a fellow to learn how to tackle, but it seems to me that if you aren't awfully good at it you might get a chance to show what you can do besides that."