Gilberth received this in silence, staring moodily at the table. The bell in the tower of College Hall began its imperative summons and Joe pushed back his chair and arose. Tracy followed his example.
“I didn’t mean to keep you so long,” said the former. He overtook the other at the door and laid a friendly hand on his shoulder. “Don’t mind my ill-temper, old man. There’s no use in having a friend if you can’t bully him a little now and then. And—er—think over what I said, will you?”
“Oh, that’s all right,” answered Tracy grudgingly. “No harm done. See you later.”
Joe stood on the porch and watched him cross the road and disappear up the broad gravel-path toward the laboratories. Then Joe passed down the steps and through the gate with a little smile of satisfaction on his face.
“Yes, it is all right,” he told himself. “He’ll do as I want him to. But I wish—I do wish I hadn’t lost my pesky temper!”
He turned to the left toward Washington Street and as he neared the corner he caught sight of a tall fellow crossing the Common with long awkward strides. The ill-fitting clothes and the little stoop of the shoulders were sufficient to reveal the man’s identity at first glance, and Joe hailed him:
“O Tid-ball! O Tid-ba-a-all!”
Anthony paused, looked, waved a note-book responsively, and stumbling over a “Keep off the grass” sign, crossed the turf and clambered over the fence.
“How are you, Tidball?” asked Joe, shaking hands. For some reason fellows usually did shake hands with Anthony when they met him, just as they thumped other acquaintances on the back or punched them in the ribs or pulled their caps over their eyes. “You’re just the man I wanted to see,” Joe went on. “As usual, we’re just about stone broke; the Baseball Association, I mean. We’ve got to have a lot of money for the nine and we’ve got to raise it by subscription. The schedule has the team down for five games away from home, and that means a heap of expense. The Athletic Association has given us all they could afford to, about one hundred and fifty dollars, but that won’t last us any time. So we’re going to get up a mass meeting in about a week or so and try and raise the dust. And we want you to speak for us; whoop things up a bit, you know. Can you do it?”