“That’s what I think. I believe the truth of that business is that Weatherby doesn’t know how to swim, Joe.”
“Really? Did he ever say so?”
“Oh, thunder, no! He never’s talked about it to me; I’d be scared to death to ask him. But that seems a reasonable sort of explanation, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, it does. And it’s funny that it never occurred to me. Somehow, you take it for granted here that every fellow knows how to swim; we’re such a lot of water-rats, you know. I believe you’ve hit it, Greg. But if that’s the case, why didn’t he out and say so?”
“Well, I don’t know. Maybe we didn’t give him a chance at first, and then, when he did have a show, maybe he got spunky and wouldn’t. It’s the sort of thing I could understand his doing.”
“Yes, it is. Well, anyhow, he’s cut up more rumpus and made more worry than any freshie I ever knew. And I hope to goodness it’s over. I want him to play ball. Going? Don’t forget to drum up the meeting. Bring a crowd with you and start the enthusiasm early in the game. And, by the way, if you ever have a chance, you might just try and find out about Weatherby; whether he can swim, you know. So long, Greg.”
Jack would have been distinctly surprised had he known that he was the subject of so much discussion. He was beginning to congratulate himself that the men with whom he associated seemed to have forgotten the unpleasant incident, and were, in a manner, making his acquaintance all over again. There was no denying the fact that since his performance of Saturday on the diamond the fellows at the training-table had shown themselves very friendly toward him. Of old he had usually eaten his meals in silence, save for an occasional word with Joe or King or the trainer. Nowadays the fellows greeted him as one of themselves, included him in their conversation, and even asked his opinion sometimes. And unconsciously he was bidding for their friendship. He no longer answered all inquiries with monosyllables, but forgot his rôle of injured innocence and entered into the talk with sprightliness and interest. Once he had even made a joke. It was a good joke, but its effect was embarrassing. Every one was so surprised that for a full quarter of a minute not a sound greeted it. Then the table broke into laughter. But by that time Jack was all self-consciousness once more, and for the rest of the meal ate in silence.
But his shyness wore off again, and by the middle of the week his companions had adopted a way of listening when he spoke as though what he had to say was worth hearing. The effect of this was like a tonic to Jack’s vanity. He began to recover his naturally good spirits and the change in him was noticeable. Anthony saw and was delighted.
The friendship between him and the younger boy had worked back into its old lines. Sometimes, more and more infrequently as time passed, Jack thought he could detect a difference in Anthony’s attitude toward him; fancied that the other was reserved in manner. But the difference, if difference there was, was slight and did not seriously impair Jack’s enjoyment of Anthony’s friendship.