“Well, get in here and go with us, can’t you? There’s lots of room, eh, Tracy?”
Tracy nodded. He had not told Joe of Anthony’s call, and his friend was unaware that relations between the two were somewhat strained. Joe wondered at the lack of hospitality displayed.
“Oh, I guess we’d rather walk,” Anthony answered, smiling a bit behind his spectacles.
“Nonsense, you’ll get in here, both of you, and Tracy will show you what he calls ‘squirting through space.’ Hello, Jack!”
Jack came into sight carrying the bathing-suits and towels and somewhat red of face. He feared that Joe and Gilberth had guessed his secret.
“Hello!” he answered. “Hello, Gilberth!” The latter returned his salutation affably enough and Joe exclaimed:
“You’re a couple of nice mud-hens, aren’t you? Why don’t you pick out a decent place when you want to bathe? Come on and get in; we’ll take you back.”
Jack hesitated and looked inquiringly at Anthony. The latter’s expression gave no clue to his wishes, and so, in the end, Jack assented, and the two crowded into the carriage, and Tracy started back across the field toward the road. Joe seemed to have forgotten his troubles for the while, and the talk, ranging from baseball to final examinations, grew lively, even Gilberth finding his tongue at last. There was no hurry about getting back, he said, and so they crossed westward to the turnpike, and there, with a hard, safe road underneath, sped homeward at a rate that took Jack’s breath away and made Anthony hold tightly to so much of the seat as he could find. They turned into Main Street at the Observatory just as the clock in the tower of College Hall, glimpsed over the tree-tops, indicated a quarter of eleven.
“I guess I’d better get out at William Street,” said Jack, “or I’ll be late at the field. Will you come along, Anthony?”
“Can’t. I’ve got a recitation and I’ve already cut once this week.”