“No, but it’s something about money. As I understood it he doesn’t want to marry until he’s settled down in his law practice and can stay at home and attend to things. Anyway, that’s the dope. Of course I said I hoped we’d beat Saturday, and—well, what do you suppose he said?”
“Said he hoped so, too, probably.”
“He said, ‘How hard do you hope it, Burton?’ I said that I hoped it a whole lot, or something like that. ‘Well, do you hope it hard enough to pitch in and help us?’ he asked. I said I sure did. Then—well, he talked a lot. Made me feel sort of small, Bert. You know, when you come right down to it, I’ve been an awful fizzle this fall!”
“What I want to know is, is he going to let you play?”
“I don’t know. I think so. He didn’t promise it, though. What he said was that I was to start in to-morrow and forget everything but football and beating Kenly and show what I could do. I guess he doesn’t feel like sticking me in ahead of Fitz, and I don’t blame him, because, say what you like, Fitz is a mighty good end, Bert.”
Bert suppressed a grin. “Then all he agreed to was letting you show what you can do, eh?”
“He didn’t agree to anything,” responded Chick a trifle warmly. “He made me see what a blamed poor piece of cheese I’ve been this season and asked me to help him come through with a win. And that on top of all this other business! I’ll say that’s fair enough, and I’m ready to do everything I can so he can get married like he wants to. Of course I want to beat Kenly, too, but I’m in it now so that girl won’t have to wait another year. So he won’t, either. What’s wrong with that?”
“Not a thing,” replied Bert. “Only the girl must be a peach, Chick, to get you all het up like this!”