“Thank you for telling me,” responded Joel, “but I don’t expect to have much to do with him; I don’t like his looks.  I know the boy you mean, now.  He’s the fellow that called me names—­’Country,’ you know, and such—­the first day we had practice.  I heard him, but didn’t let on.  I didn’t mind much, but it didn’t win my love.”  West laughed uproariously and slapped Joel on the back.

“Oh, you’re a queer sort, March.  I’d have had a fight on the spot.  But you—­Say, you’re going to be an awful grind, March, if you keep on in your present terrible course.  You won’t have time for any fun at all.  And I was going to teach you golf, you know.  It’s not nice of you, it really isn’t.”

“I’ll play golf with you the first afternoon we don’t have practice, West, honestly.  I’m awfully sorry I’m such a crank about lessons, but you see I’ve made up my mind to try for the—­the—­what scholarship is that?”

“Carmichael?” suggested West.  Joel shook his head.

“No, the big one.”  West stared.

“Do you mean the Goodwin scholarship?”

“Yes, that’s the one,” answered Joel.  West whistled.

“Well, you’re not modest to hurt, March.  Why, man, that’s a terror!  You have to have the Greek alphabet backward, and never miss chapel all term to get a show at that.  The Goodwin brings two hundred and forty dollars!”

“That’s why I want it,” answered Joel.  “If I win it it will pay my expenses for this year and part of next.”

“Well, of course I hope you’ll make it,” answered West, “but I don’t believe you have much show.  There’s Knox, and Reeves, and—­and two or three others all trying for it.  Knox won the Schall scholarship last year.  That carries two hundred even.”

“Well, anyhow, I’ll try hard,” answered Joel resolutely.

“Of course.  You ought to have it; you need it.  Did I tell you that I won a Masters scholarship in my junior year?  Yes, I did really.  It was forty dollars.  I remember that I bought two new putters and a jolly fine caddie bag.”

“You could do better than that if you’d try, West.  You’re awfully smart.”

“Who?  Me?” laughed West.  “Pshaw!  I can’t do any more than pass my exams.  Of course I’m smart enough when it comes to lofting out of a bad lie or choosing a good club; but—­” He shook his head doubtfully, but nevertheless seemed pleased at the idea.

“No, I mean in other ways,” continued Joel earnestly.  “You could do better than half the fellows if you tried.  And I wish you would try, West.  You rich fellows in Hampton House could set such a good example for the youngsters if you only would.  As it is, they admire you and envy you and think that it’s smart to give all their time to play.  I know, because I heard some of them talking about it the other day.  ’You don’t have to study,’ said one; ’look at those swells in Hampton.  They just go in for football and golf and tennis and all that, and they never have any trouble about passing exams.’” West whistled in puzzled amazement.