“Oh, that wouldn’t matter. If you can play you’ll have to. Maple Hill expects every man to do his duty. You’ll learn all right, Rod. Bet you’ll be on the second team before the season’s over!”
“Don’t talk silly! And look here, Mudge, use your brain, can’t you? Don’t you see that even if I did learn a little football the school would expect a whole lot of me just because I’m Stanley Merrill’s brother? And I couldn’t deliver the goods, and everyone would be disappointed in me. That’s why I didn’t want to play at all.”
“But if you’re Ginger’s brother,” replied Tad confidently, “you must know how to play. It stands to reason. Or, as Kitty says, ‘It follows.’ Maybe you think you can’t play football, but it’s in you somewhere, Rodney, old boy, and Cotting will get it out! Don’t you worry!”
“You make me tired,” sighed Rodney. “I wish I’d never come here. I haven’t got time for football anyway. I want to study.”
“You want—to—what!” exclaimed Tad incredulously.
“Study. That’s what I came here for, isn’t it?”
“My word!” Tad looked at him sorrowfully. “You’re a queer one, Rod. You don’t want folks to know you’re Ginger Merrill’s brother; you don’t want to be a football hero; and you want to study! Honest, old man, you positively alarm me! I don’t know whether I ought to associate with you. Suppose I caught it, too!”
“I guess it wouldn’t do you any harm,” laughed Rodney. “Where are you going?”
“Over here. Come along.”