The fork fell into the pan, and Anthony fished it out with much muttering before he answered. Then—
“Why, no, I didn’t, Jack. You see——”
“I know; it isn’t very beautiful; just one I had.”
“That isn’t the reason,” said Anthony without turning around. “Fact is, I’m not wearing my watch just now.”
“Oh, aren’t you? Why—what——”
“Well, a fellow can’t have money to lend and a gold watch at the same time. Just at present I’m a moneylender.”
“Oh, I see,” Jack replied. But, nevertheless, he didn’t look satisfied with the explanation, and when Anthony returned to the breakfast-table with the egg he had been frying the two finished the meal almost in silence.
Thanks to the secrecy of the three persons who alone knew of Jack’s absence from Centerport, his return to the training-table at lunch-time occasioned no surprise. Joe Perkins looked bewildered for a moment, but said nothing. King called across the board and asked Jack where he’d been since the day before, and Jack calmly replied that he’d been home with Professor White overnight. Several pairs of eyebrows went up incredulously, but no one voiced his doubts. Gilberth took absolutely no notice of Jack, and, at least in so far as the latter was concerned, the meal went off pleasantly. He had expected to be called to account by the trainer, but Simson had eyes of his own and said nothing as long as luncheon was in progress. When it was over he questioned the captain. After a moment of hesitation, Joe told the trainer the facts of Jack’s absence as he knew them.
“I think,” he said, “that the best thing to do is to take no notice this time. Weatherby may turn out a good man for us if he can get his mind on his work. But if this badgering continues he won’t be worth a continental; he’s all up in the air. Maybe you can give him a good word now and then, ‘Baldy’; the poor dub needs it all right.”