Not only McNatt was in this evening, but his roommate, Winfred Fuller. Fuller was a sophomore, a smallish, anemic-appearing youth who, or so Willard fancied, wore a harried, apprehensive look, as though life with McNatt’s toads and beetles and strange messes was gradually affecting his mind. Fuller sat, straightly uncompromising, on the edge of a chair and gazed at Willard with owlish fixity during the first ten minutes of the latter’s visit, and Willard was heartily glad when, muttering some excuse, the boy took himself off. McNatt was most hospitable and offered to cook a few choice mushrooms that he had picked that afternoon under someone’s stable if Willard fancied them. But Willard explained that, being on a diet, mushrooms were a forbidden luxury, and McNatt was not offended. After that the talk turned to the subject of football “situations” and McNatt was reminded that he had found the memorandum of which he had spoken on the occasion of Willard’s last visit, and stretched a hand toward the littered table. But unfortunately the paper had again disappeared, and although McNatt searched long and determinedly, making the confusion more confused, it refused to be discovered. Finally, giving up the quest, McNatt sat down again, stretching his long legs across the floor and thrusting a pair of large, very chapped hands into his pockets.
“Myers came to see me this morning,” he remarked placidly. “He’s captain of the football team this year. But you know him, of course. I forgot you were on the team, Harmon. Queer fellow, Myers: awfully obstinate and opinionated, don’t you think?”
“Well, he’s likely to have rather pronounced views on any subject that he’s very much interested in,” replied Willard cautiously. “Football for instance.”
McNatt chuckled. “It was football he came to see me about. He wanted me to play full-back. It seems the fellow they’ve got isn’t very satisfactory. You told me that, too, I think.”
“Yes, I did,” said Willard, “and I’m mighty glad you’re going to help us out, McNatt!”
McNatt frowned and shook his head. “Oh, but I’m not. I told Myers I couldn’t, you know. He--I don’t think he liked it.”
“You’re not!” exclaimed Willard incredulously. “But--but why?”