Willard watched him go thoughtfully. After a minute, though, he tucked his pencil into a pocket, seized his book and hurried across to Lykes. Luck was with him when he knocked at Number 2 and entered. Joe was propped up on the window-seat, half hidden by a newspaper.
“Hello, Brand,” he said. “What’s on your mind?”
“More than is on yours, I guess,” answered Willard meaningly.
Joe laughed. “Think so? Well, that’s the first paper I’ve seen in a week. I was looking over the Saturday games. Yale’s coming back all right, isn’t she? That fellow Loughlin who played left tackle for awhile is an Alton fellow. Wasn’t considered much good here, though, as I remember.”
“Say, Joe, suppose a fellow played football this year and then didn’t play for two years more. Would he be any good?”
“Good for what?”
“Football. I mean, could he—could he come back?”
“Oh! I don’t know, Brand. I guess it would depend on the fellow. Aren’t thinking of giving up the game, are you?”
“No. Look here, Joe, suppose a fellow was a corking good full-back three years ago and then didn’t play any more. Suppose he was to go back to the game tomorrow. How long would it take him to—to remember what he’d forgotten and—and find himself again?”