Phillip followed the other’s gaze and his heart sank.
“That—that’s not John North!” he faltered.
“You’re a liar,” answered Chester sweetly. Phillip groaned.
“Why, that’s—that’s——”
Guy leaned over and patted him reassuringly on the back.
“Hold hard, old man; don’t give way to it. Give him air, men; stand back everybody!”
“You were about to observe?” asked Chester.
“Nothing.” Phillip sat with flushed cheeks and watched the approach of his caller of Wednesday, praying that the latter would not come near enough to see him. But John, in earnest conversation with the head coach, came straight on toward the bench and only paused when the edge of the running track was reached. Phillip sank back and tried to make himself smaller. Chester observed him with interest and curiosity. John talked for a minute, his back toward the three, and then, apparently in explanation of the subject under discussion, took the head coach by the shoulders and swung him slowly to the left. The head coach nodded and John glanced up and caught sight of the trio on the bench. His gaze swept over them and he nodded smilingly, his eyes upon Chester.
“How are you?” responded that youth.