“No, but I thought they’d let me play Saturday against Hollywood. I’m going with the team, though, anyway. You coming along?”
“Can’t say, old chap. If Crowley doesn’t forgive me I fancy I might as well be there as here. If he does I dare say we’ll have practice just the same. Ouch!”
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing, only Hanser dropped the ball then and Nick’s got it. He’s clever at squirming through, isn’t he? It looked as if he got right between Longley’s legs! That gives first a ripping chance to score,” he added anxiously. “They must be on our twenty yards. I say, what sort of a chap is Longley, Bert?”
“Brew? Why, he’s pretty good. I thought Bonner would have him on the first this year. He would have, too, if Willard hadn’t showed up so well before school opened.”
“Yes, I know he’s a good center, but is he—well, is he a gentleman?”
“A gentleman?” Bert looked surprised. “Depends on what you mean, I guess, by gentleman, Hugh. I don’t suppose you’d call him that. I think his father’s a contractor or something in Springfield or somewhere.”
“I didn’t mean that. I meant is he considered a—well, do you like him?”