Bliss, seeing he was so earnest, got out a time-table and agreed to go back with him.
After the good-byes, when they were once on the train, Hart turned and laid a hand on his friend's knee.
"See here," he observed earnestly, "I've been going over everything, and have concluded to go back West [he did not say 'home'] next week."
To his surprise, Bliss's answer was a burst of angry remonstrance.
"You can't do it," he said, "and leave us in the lurch that way! There's no one to play right guard, you know it well! and the college wouldn't stand it. If you're going to be an idiot, and prove yourself a non-compos by destroying your life, wait until after the Yale game anyhow."
He opened his novel, then flung it at the back of the seat in front of him and glared at his companion in silence. Hart gazed out of the window.
"All right," he said; "I'll stay until after the Yale game."
This was somewhat appeasing, and Bliss's frown relaxed.
