"Give me," Bailly pled, "until afternoon to decide if I'll take another ten years from my life. That's all. Send that fellow Rogers in. Be at the field house at three o'clock."
And as George passed out he heard him reviling the candidate.
"Don't see why you come to college. No chance to make the team or a Phi Beta Kappa. One ought to be a requisite."
The shrill voice went lower. George barely caught the words certainly not intended for him.
"You know I wouldn't be a bit surprised if that fellow you brought me, if he had a chance, might do both."
II
George, since he had nothing else to do, walked home. Bailly could get him in if he would. Did it really depend in part on the inspection he would have to undergo that afternoon? It was hard there was nothing he could do to prepare himself. He went to the yard, to which the landlady had condemned Sylvia's bulldog, and, to kill time, played with the friendly animal until luncheon. Afterward he sat in his room before Sylvia's portrait impressing on himself the necessity of strength for the coming ordeal.
His landlady directed him glibly enough to the field house. As he crossed the practice gridiron, not yet chalked out, he saw Bailly on the verandah; and, appearing very small and sturdy beside him, a gray-haired, pleasant-faced man whose small eyes were relentless.
"This is the prospect, Green," George heard Bailly say.
The trainer studied George for some time before he nodded his head.