When they returned to their table they found a stranger was seated
with him, who rose as Higgins made him known.
"Boys, meet my old friend, Mr. Jefferson Locke, of St. Louis. He's
all right."
The college men treated this new recruit with a hilarious
cordiality, to which he responded with the air of one quite
accustomed to such reunions.
"I was at the game this afternoon," he explained, when the
greetings were over, "and recognized you chaps when you came in.
I'm a football fan myself."
"You look as if you might have played," said Anthony, sizing up
the broad frame of the Missourian with the critical eye of a
coach.
"Yes. I used to play."
"Where?"
Mr. Locke avoided answer by calling loudly for a waiter, but when
the orders had been taken Kirk repeated:
"Where did you play, Mr. Locke?"
"Left tackle."
"What university?"
"Oh one of the Southern colleges. It was a freshwater school--you
wouldn't know the name." He changed the subject quickly by adding:
"I just got into town this morning and I'm sailing to-morrow. I
couldn't catch a boat to-day, so I'm having a little blow-out on
my own account. When I recognized you all, I just butted in. New
York is a lonesome place for a stranger. Hope you don't mind my
joining you.
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