“With Arthur Thompson, I guess,” answered Dan. “They’re getting pretty thick these days.”
“You guess!” said Alf severely. “What sort of a guardian are you, I’d like to know. What do you suppose John T. Pennimore would say if he knew that you had let the child out of your sight without being certain where he is?”
“Is he still worried about this morning?” asked Tom.
“I think so, but I tell him that no one will believe Hiltz.”
“By the way,” said Alf, squeezing himself onto the seat between them, “I’ve found out that Hiltz is expecting to get on the Second Class Admission Committee again, he and Thompson both. Of course we don’t have to worry about Thompson, but if we want to get Gerald into Cambridge this year it’s up to you, Dan, to beat Hiltz out for the committee.”
“What’ll I have to do?”
“Just let the fellows in the Second know that you’re after the place, that’s all. It’s simple enough, and you ought not have much trouble beating Jake Hiltz. If you don’t, though, he will blackball Gerald as sure as anything, especially after what happened to-day, and, as you know, one blackball will keep him out. And after that there’s nothing left for him but an ignominious admission to Oxford.”
Tom, the only Oxford Society man of the three, grunted sarcastically.