“Oh, you can’t tell,” replied Freer encouragingly.  “Come out for practice tomorrow and see.  We’re got a coach here that can do wonders with beginners.”

“Of course I mean to try,” said Clint.  “I reckon you wear togs, don’t you, when you report?”

“Yes, come dressed to play.  You’ll get a workout for a week or so, anyway.  Three-thirty is the time.  You won’t feel lonesome.  We’ve got more fellows here this year than we ever had and I guess there’ll be a gang of new candidates.  Got a lot of last year’s ’varsity players left, too, and we ought to be able to turn out a pretty fair team.”

“Where does Captain Innes play?” Clint asked

“Centre, and he’s a peach.  Marvin, over there, is first-string quarter this year.  Edwards will be one of our ends and Hall will have right guard cinched, I think.”

“And where do you play?” Clint inquired.

“Half, when I play,” laughed the other.  “I’m going to make a good fight for it this year.  How’d you know I did play, though?”

“I—­just thought so,” said Clint.  “You sort of look it, you know.”

That seemed to please Freer.  “Well, I’ve been at it three years,” he said, “and this is my last chance.”

“I hope you make it.”

“Thanks.  Same to you!  Well, I must get along.”

The gathering was breaking up.  Most of the fellows were careful to bid Clint good night as they went and several told him to get Amy to bring him around to see them.  Captain Innes crowded his way through the confusion of visitors and furniture and sought Clint where he stood aside in the corner.

“I believe you play football, Thayer?” he said inquiringly.

“Yes, some.”

“Well, you’re modest, anyway,” the big centre laughed.  “Don’t overdo it, though; it doesn’t pay.  What’s your position?”

“I played tackle at home.”

“Well, you come out tomorrow and show your goods, Thayer.  We need all the talent we can get.  Hope to see you do splendidly.  Good night.  Awfully glad to have met you.  Good night, Amy.  Hope those socks will come out all right.”

“They’ll never be the same,” replied Amy sadly.  “Their pristine splendour—­”

“Get out of here, Amy!  You remind me unpleasantly of tomorrow’s English and the fact that I haven’t looked at it yet!” And Freer, who was a rather husky youth, pushed Amy into the corridor without ceremony.

On the way back to Torrence Clint asked curiously:  “How do you suppose Innes knew I played, Amy?”

“Oh, he’s a discerning brute,” responded the other carelessly.

“But he said he believed I did.  That sounds as if someone had told him.  Did you?”

“Well,” replied the other hesitantly, “now that you mention it, summon it, as it were, to my attention, or, should I say, force it on my notice; or, perhaps, arouse my slumbering memory—­”

“Meaning you did?”