Tommy shook his head cautiously, once more extending an exploring hand to the back of his neck. “I don’t believe so,” he replied soberly. “I tried dieting once. Didn’t eat any candy for a whole month. But it didn’t make any difference. I had Jobs just the same. I guess it’s the water, maybe, or something. Guess I’d better go up and put stuff on it.” “Too bad,” said Bert as sympathetically as he could manage. “I hope you won’t get it.” “Oh, I’ll get it,” answered the other resignedly. “I always do.” Then, more cheerfully, he added: “Anyway, I won’t have Gym class for a while!” At the door Bert stopped him. “By the way, Tommy, I wish you’d tell me something.” Tommy paused, turned and, holding a hand to the incipient boil, looked inquiring. “What you said about my playing,” went on Bert with some embarrassment. “You didn’t really mean it, eh?” “What do you care if I did or didn’t?” asked Tommy, suddenly a pessimist. “You’re like all the others. Think I don’t know anything about football just because I don’t play it.” “No, honestly, Tommy, I don’t think that. Fact is, I believe you know a lot about it. That’s why I’d like to know whether you really think I’ll make a player. You see, I’ve tried pretty hard, but I don’t seem to do as well as most of the others.” “Huh,” said Tommy, evidently mollified, “you’re a player right now. Say, want to know how to break into fast company right away? All right, I’ll tell you.” Tommy lowered his voice, glancing left and right along an empty corridor, and became gravely confidential. “Don’t put your head down, Bert. Keep it up and use your eyes. Look for the opening. Sometimes it isn’t where it ought to be, you know. All right. If you look sharp you can find it. If you put your head down and just follow the interference blind you run into a snag half the time. Get the idea? Look where you’re going! _Employer la oeil, mon ami! Aussi, chercher la trou!_ Thanks for the feed. Night!” When Tommy had gone toward the stairs with a rather dejected amble, Bert closed the door, sat down and considered the advice. Of course Tommy was a good deal of a nut, but he evidently did use his bean, Bert reflected, and he did seem to know something about the art of football playing. Bert tried to remember whether he did or didn’t put his head down when he took the ball. He couldn’t decide until he got to his feet, stooped, with the knuckles of one hand on the carpet, listened to an imaginary signal and jumped forward, his hands wide for a mythical ball. When his hands were clasped against his stomach he stopped abruptly in his journey of the room, for he had discovered what he sought. The instant he had clasped the imagined ball to him he had dropped his head!