Football -- Juvenile fiction; Schools -- Juvenile fiction
Evan went on with his unpacking, catching now and then as he went to
and fro between trunk and closet and bureau a glimpse of the caller. He
was a very good-looking fellow, with dark hair and eyes and a softness
about mouth and chin that was almost girlish. He sat with elbow on
knee, and chin in hand, looking dreamily across the room, evidently
quite forgetful of Evan’s presence. After a while the silence grew
oppressive.
“My name’s Kingsford,” announced Evan. The other looked up slowly and
nodded.
[Illustration: “‘HELLO!’ HE SAID. ‘OH, BEG PARDON. WHERE’S ROB?’”]
“Thanks. Mine’s Warne.” Then he went back to his rapt study of the
opposite wall. Evan was distinctly relieved when he heard Rob’s
footsteps in the hall.
“Well,” said Rob, as he came in, “it’s all―― Hello, Mal! Where’d you
come from? Been waiting long? Kingsford, let me make you acquainted
with Mr. Warne, a particular friend of mine. Mal, this is Mr.
Kingsford. He and I are going to try it together.”
Malcolm Warne shook hands with a smile which displayed a set of very
white teeth. It was a nice smile and lighted up the somewhat serious
face very pleasantly.
“Happy to meet you,” said Warne. Then, to Rob, “So he was just saying.
I hope you will――like it――both of you.” He had a very soft voice, spoke
slowly, and had a way of chopping off the ends of his words that was
unfamiliar to Evan.
“Oh, we’ll get on all right, I think,” said Rob, easily. “Sit down,
Mal, and tell us what you did all summer. By the way, though,
Kingsford, it’s all right about the room. Doctor agreed with me that a
chap with any tendency toward colds, grippe, pneumonia, and consumption
ought not to live in 36. He got rather interested in your case, and
I shouldn’t be surprised if he sent the doctor around to-morrow to
report on you. If he comes, please cough for my sake! Well, I’ve got to
get my trunk unpacked. Go ahead and talk, Mal.”
“No, I reckon I’ll go on. I just dropped in to say howdy to you.”
“What? ‘Go on’ nothing! Sit down, you idiot, and tell me what’s been
happening with you.”
“Oh, nothing much. I had a very quiet summer. I was at home most of the
time, although we went down to Virginia Beach in August for a couple of
weeks. I’ll see you to-morrow, Rob. Good night, Mr. Kingsford. Pleased
to have met you. Get Rob to bring you over to see me soon. So long,
Rob.”
“Well, if you insist on going,” said Rob, following the caller to the
door. “What’s the matter, Mal? Anything wrong?” They passed out, Rob
drawing the door shut behind him. Evan heard their low voices outside
in the hallway for several minutes. Then Rob reappeared, looking
worried.
“Now there’s a crazy idiot,” he said, with a frown, thrusting his hands
into his trousers pockets and spreading his long legs apart.
“Why?” asked Evan.
“He wanted to come in here with me, and he never said a word about it.
Says he was waiting to make sure I hadn’t any one in view. He’s too
blamed sensitive.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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