"Where away, George? Feeling fit for our trip?" he asked as I got up to him.
"I am sorry, old boy, but, so far as I am concerned, the trip is off. I just hurried down to tell you and Jim.
"You see, Tom, there is going to be a House Party up there this week-end and my dad's mighty anxious to have me at home; so much so, that I would offend him if I went off. Being merely George Brammerton, I must bow to the paternal commands, although I would rather, a hundred times, be at the games."
Tom's face fell, and I could see he was disappointed. I knew how much he enjoyed those week-end excursions of ours.
"The fact is," I explained, "there is going to be a marriage up there pretty soon, and, naturally, I am wanted to meet the lady."
"Great Scott! George,—you are not trying to break it gently to me? You are not going to get married, are you?" he asked in consternation.
I laughed loudly. "Lord, no! Not for a kingdom. It is my big brother Harry."
Tom seemed relieved. He even sighed.
"I'm glad to hear you say it, George, for there's a lot of fine athletic meetings coming on during the next three or four months and it would be a pity to miss them for, for,—— Oh! hang it all! you know what I mean. You're such a queer, serious, determined sort of customer, that it's hard to say what you will do next."
He looked so solemn over the matter that I laughed again.