“Well, I’m not feeling well myself,” said Foster.

“We were referring to players, Teddy, my love,” replied South sweetly.

“Insulted!” cried Foster, leaping wildly to his feet.  “It serves me right for associating with a lot of freshmen.  Good-night, Fletcher, my wounded gladiator.  Get well and come back to us; all will be forgiven.”

“I’d like the chance of forgiving the fellow that jumped on my shoulder,” said Neil.  “I’d send him to join Murdoch.”

“That’s not nice,” answered Foster gravely.  “Forgive your enemies.  Good-night, you cubs.”

“Hold on,” said Livingston, “I’m going your way.  Good-night, Fletcher.  Cheer up and get well.  We need you and so does the team.  Remember the class is looking forward to seeing you win a few touch-downs in the Robinson game.”

“Oh, I’ll be all right,” answered Neil, “and if they’ll let me into the game I’ll do my best.  Only—­I’m afraid I’ll be a bit stale when I get out again.”

“Not you,” declared Livingston heartily. “’Age can not wither nor custom stale your infinite variety.’”

“That’s a quotation from—­somebody,” said South accusingly. “‘Fan’ wants us to think he made it up.  Besides, I don’t think it’s correct; it should be, ‘Custom can not age nor wither stale your various interests.’  Hold on, I’m not particular; I’ll walk along with you two.  But fortune send we don’t meet the Dean,” he continued, as he slid to the floor.  “I called on him Monday; a little affair of too many cuts; ‘Mr. South,’ said he sorrowfully, ’avoid two things while in college—­idleness and evil associations.’  I promised, fellows, and here I am breaking that promise.  Farewell, Fletcher; bear up under your great load of affliction.  Good-night, Burr.  Kindly see that he gets his medicine regularly every seven minutes, and don’t let him sleep in a draft; pajamas are much warmer.”

“Come on, you grinning idiot,” said Foster.

When the door had closed upon the three, Sydney placed his crutches under his arms and moved over to the chair beside the couch.

“Look here, Neil, you don’t really think, do you, that you’ll have any trouble getting back into your place?”

“I hardly know.  Of course two weeks of idleness makes a big difference.  And besides, I’m losing a lot of practise.  This new close-formation that Mills is teaching will be Greek to me.”

“It’s simple enough,” said Sydney.  “The backs are bunched right up to the line, the halfs on each side of quarter, and the full just behind him.”

“Well, but I don’t see—­”

“Wait,” interrupted Sydney, “I’ll show you.”

He drew a folded sheet of paper from his pocket and passed it to the other.  Neil scowled over it a moment, and then looked up helplessly.

[Illustration]

“What is it?” he asked.  “Something weird in geometry?”

“No,” laughed Sydney, “it’s a play from close-formation.  I drew it this morning.”