“Sure, I can,” answered the trainer. “Give the lad a chance; why not? I doubt he’s varsity material, cap, but he’s a decent spoken lad enough.”
Tracy Gilberth walked back to his room after luncheon feeling very dissatisfied with life. He had not yet forgiven Joe for the lecture which the latter had delivered to him the day before. Tracy felt deeply wronged. He really believed that when he had publicly affronted Jack Weatherby that he had been performing a service to the college; that it was his duty to protest against the presence at the university of a fellow who had shown himself to be a coward. Tracy had a rather good opinion of himself and of his importance, and had never doubted that, since others had failed to act in the matter, it was his place to step to the front. The wigging he had received from Joe had surprised as well as disgruntled him, and his vanity still smarted.
And what increased his annoyance was the fact that he had been “called down” by the one fellow of all whom Tracy really held in affection, and who, or so Tracy argued, should have been the very last to oppose him. Never before had the two, whose friendship dated back from their sophomore year, come so near to quarreling as they had yesterday. Differences of opinion they frequently had, but Tracy always retired from whatever position he held at the first sign of displeasure on the part of the other. But yesterday Tracy’s backdown had been incomplete; to-day he was not decided whether to do as Joe wanted him to and leave the obnoxious Weatherby strictly alone or to show his resentment by continuing his righteous persecution of that youth with some more than usually severe affront. In fact, Tracy hovered on the verge of open mutiny when, after climbing the first flight of stairs in Grace Hall, he turned to the left down the broad corridor and kicked open the unlatched door of his study.
“Hello!” he exclaimed.
“Hello!” was the response from the depths of a big leather armchair, and Anthony, who had been reclining with widely stretched legs and reading a magazine, placed the latter back on the mahogany writing-table and calmly faced his host. The two knew each other well enough to nod in passing, but never before had Anthony paid Tracy a visit, and the latter’s evident surprise was natural enough.
“Found your door open,” explained Anthony, “so I came in and waited. Wanted to see you a minute or two, Gilberth.”
“That’s all right; glad you made yourself comfortable,” answered the other.
“Nice rooms you’ve got,” continued the visitor.
“Oh, they do well enough,” Tracy replied carelessly.