“Thanks, old man,” he said, and gripped his hand understandingly.  There was something in Pat’s face he had never noticed there before.  As he dropped his eyelids shut he had an odd sense that Pat and Tennelly and the Presence were all taking care of him.  A sick fancy of worn-out nerves, of course, but pleasant all the same.

Down the hall a nasal voice twanged at the telephone, shouting each answer as though to make the whole dormitory hear.  Then loud steps, a thump on the door as it was flung open: 

“Court here?  A girl on the ’phone wants you, Court.  Says her name is Miss Gila Dare.”

CHAPTER VII

The messenger had imitated Gila Dare’s petulant childish accent to perfection.  At another time the three young men would have shouted over it.  Now they looked at one another in silence.

“Sha’n’t I go and get a message for you, Court?” asked Tennelly.  For Courtland’s face was ashen gray, and the memory of it lying in the hospital was too recent for him not to feel anxious about his friend.  He had only been permitted to return to college so quickly under strict orders not to overdo.

“No, I guess I’ll go,” said Courtland, indifferently, rising as he spoke.

They listened anxiously to his tones as he conversed over the ’phone.

“Hello!...  Yes!...  Yes!...  Oh!  Good evening!...  Yes....  Yes....  No-o-o—­it won’t be possible!...  No, I’ve just come in and I’m pretty well ‘all in.’  I have a lot of studying yet to do to-night.  This is exam. week, you know....  No, I’m afraid not to-morrow night either....  No, there wouldn’t be a chance till the end of the week, anyway....  Why, yes, I think I could by that time, perhaps—­Friday night?  I’ll let you know....  Thank you.  Good-by!”

The listeners looked from one to the other knowingly.  This was not the tone of one who had “fallen” very far for a girl.  They knew the signs.  He had actually been indifferent!  Gila Dare had not conquered him so easily as Bill Ward had thought she would.  And the strange thing about it was that there was something in the atmosphere that night that made them feel they weren’t so very sorry.  Somehow Courtland seemed unusually close and dear to them just then.  For the moment they seemed to have perceived something fine and high in his mood that held them in awe.  They did not “kid” him when he came back to them, as they would ordinarily have done.  They received him gravely, talking together about the examination on the morrow, as if they had scarcely noticed his going.

Bill Ward came back presently with his arms laden with bundles.  He looked keenly at the tired face on the couch, but whistled a merry tune to let on he had not noticed anything amiss.

“Got a great spread this time,” he declared, setting forth his spoils on two chairs alongside the couch.  “Hot oyster stew!  Sit by, fellows!  Cooky wrapped it up in newspapers to keep it from getting cold.  There’s bowls and spoons in the basket.  Nelly, get ’em out!  Here, Pat, take that bundle out from under my arm.  That’s celery and crackers.  Here’s a pail of hot coffee with cream and sugar all mixed.  Lookout, Pat!  That’s jelly-roll and chocolate eclairs!  Don’t mash it, you chump!  Why didn’t you come with me?”