Joel's heart went
out to Stephen Remsen at once. And neither then nor at any future time
did he wonder at it.
"That," thought Joel, "is the kind of fellow I'd like for a big brother.
Although I never _could_ grow big enough to lick him."
CHAPTER V.
A RAINY AFTERNOON.
The following day Joel arrived on the football field to discover the
head coach in full charge. He was talking earnestly to Wesley Blair. His
dress was less immaculate than upon the preceding afternoon, although
not a whit less attractive to Joel. A pair of faded and much-darned
red-and-black striped stockings were surmounted by a pair of soiled and
patched moleskin trousers. His crimson jersey had faded at the shoulders
to a pathetic shade of pink, and one sleeve was missing, having long
since "gone over to the enemy." In contrast to these articles of apparel
was his new immaculate canvas jacket, laced for the first time but a
moment before. But he looked the football man that he was from head to
toe, and Joel admired him immensely and was extremely proud when, as he
was passing, Blair called him over and introduced him to Remsen. The
latter shook hands cordially, and allowed his gaze to travel
appreciatingly over Joel's five feet eight inches of bone and muscle.
"I'm glad to know you, March," he said, "and glad that you are going to
help us win."
The greeting was so simple and sincere that Joel ran down the field a
moment later, feeling that football honors were even more desirable than
before.
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