“Oh, really!” exclaimed Westby, in a tone of honest interest.

“When, Mr. Upton?” “Does he think they’ll come?” “Does Lou Collingwood
know about it?”

“I guess he knows as much as I do.” Irving tried to answer the flood of
questions. “He wrote officially to the captain at the same time that I
wrote to Lawrence. If they come at all, it will be about a week before
the St. John’s game.”

“When shall we know for sure?” asked Westby.

“It appears to be a question whether the Freshmen will choose to play us
or Lakeview School. They want to play whichever team seems the stronger,
and they’re going to discuss the prospects and decide in a few days.”

“I’m sure we’re better than Lakeview,” declared Blake. “You’ll tell your
brother we are, won’t you, Mr. Upton?”

“I’ll tell him that I understand we have a very superior team,” said
Irving. “I fancy he knows that it’s as much as I can do to tell the
difference between a quarterback and a goal post.”

“You will admit, then, that there was some reason for my not believing
you had a football brother, won’t you, Mr. Upton?” Westby tried thus to
beat a not wholly inglorious retreat.

“Every reason—until it became a matter of doubting my word,” said
Irving.