The senior partner straightened up and pushed a button. "Yes. But We haven't heard what Brainard says about Pepper."
Several moments later Tom Brainard entered. Medium-sized and muscular, he was dressed in a loose-fitting suit that by its very cut told his training. He stood between them as Mr. Pepper had done, but there was nothing of the other's ingratiating deference in his level look.
"Sit down, Brainard," said Houghton. The newcomer did so, and the senior partner marked an attitude of laziness and indifference.
Houghton became stern. "Brainard," he began, "I gave you a chance with us because——" He paused.
The other colored. "I had hoped to make good without that."
"But this morning Mr. Pepper——"
"Said we couldn't get along together. That's true."
"Ah! You admit!" It was Kaufmann.
"Yes."
There was a pause. Then Houghton spoke. "I can't tell you how much this disappoints me, Brainard. The fact is, for years I have tried to shut my eyes to the development of college training. In my time there was not the call for practicality that there is today. Yet it seems to me that the training in our colleges has grown less and less practical. Why do the colleges turn out men who spend their time in personal gossip over sport or trivialities?"