“Drop in again, Bates,” said Blash. “If there’s anything I can do to help, let me know.”
Dick thanked him non-committingly. Outside Stanley shook his head. He was smiling, but Dick knew that he wasn’t pleased. “I guess that didn’t get us much, Dick,” he said.
Dick frowned. “Well, I can’t help it!” he said defensively. “He makes me tired. Anyway, if I can’t get along in football without his help, I’m quite willing to stay out of it.”
“Oh, that won’t make much difference, I suppose. I only thought that if Blash took to you——”
“Well, he didn’t: any more than I took to him.”
“I suppose I ought to have told you he was the fellow you rode up from the station with, but I didn’t realise that you were really so peeved with him. It’s sort of too bad you couldn’t have taken it as a joke, Dick.”
“I’m sorry,” answered the other haughtily. “I won’t trouble you to introduce me to any more of your friends, Gard.”
“Well, don’t be waxy,” said Stan, good-naturedly. “There’s no harm done. You may like Blash better when you get to know him, and——”
“I don’t think so. And it doesn’t matter, does it?”