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“There you are, then!” said Jack triumphantly. “Don’t you know that a fellow can’t be a grind and a great athlete, too? Look at me. You don’t find me being pointed out as an example of conduct, do you? You didn’t see my bookcase stuffed with prize volumes, did you? Ever hear of me getting an A, or even a B-plus, in anything? Answer, No, with a capital N! A chap simply has to choose, Joey, whether he is to make his mark one way or the other. I chose the other. It’s more fun.”

“You’re talking a lot of rot. I happen to know that you were pretty near the head in your class last year. And you never have any trouble with your studies. Besides, I was reading not long ago that the principal athletes at one of the colleges in the East—either Yale or Harvard, I think—were ’way up in their studies; honour men and things like that.”

“Oh, if you believe the newspapers——”

“Newspapers are a heap more truthful than folks,” interrupted Joe. “I’ve heard my father say that lots of times. Anyway, it’s silly to say a fellow can’t study and go in for athletics, too. Look at Sam Craig. He plays baseball, football, and hockey, you told me. And he’s ’way up in his class.”