“It’s all well enough for you to joke,” replied Dick, grinning half-heartedly, “but you don’t know my dad.”
“Tell you what! Let me write and tell him what a whale you are in class room. After he’d read what I’d written he’d send you a letter of apology, Dickie! I can see it now. ‘My dear son, can you forgive me for my unjust and unworthy doubts? Your—er—your estimable companion, Mr. Gard, has written me the truth and I see now how terribly I misjudged you. It makes me extremely happy to know—to know that you have Mr. Gard as a friend. He is, as I discern, a young gentleman of great—er—mental attainment and——”
“Oh, shut up!” laughed Dick. “You’d joke at a funeral!”
“Not at my own, anyway! Well, cheer up, old top, and hope for the worst. Then you’ll get the best. If your father refuses to finance you I’ll take up a collection and your loving friends will see you through; at least, to the end of the football season!” And Stanley chuckled enjoyably.
Of course Dick answered that letter immediately and spent the better part of an hour and much ink trying to convince his father that in spite of the evidence he was doing his full duty. Perhaps he had secret qualms even as he wrote, though, for it is a fact that from that day forth he managed another hour of study, by hook or by crook, and perceptibly improved his standing in various classes. And finding time for more study was less easy than it sounds, for the day following his appearance at training table found him accepted by coach and players as the second-choice quarter-back, and if he had thought he knew what hard work in practice meant he now saw his mistake. For he was added to the select coterie who remained on the field three or four afternoons a week after the others had been dismissed and who were drilled in punting and catching until their legs ached and they saw a dozen footballs where there was but one.
Guy Stone’s attitude toward Dick was peculiar, or so Dick thought. He appeared to miss no opportunity to chat with him and was very friendly, but afterwards, thinking Stone’s conversation over, Dick invariably found that the first-string quarter had seemingly sought to instill self-doubting and discouragement in his possible substitute. One short conversation will do as an illustration.
“I see you take the snap-back almost facing centre,” said Stone when they were on their way to the gymnasium after a hard practice. “Think you can work faster that way?”
“No, but I feel surer of the pass,” answered Dick. “Do you think I ought to stand more sidewise?”