He thought a moment. "I guess I'm tired. I must buck up. If Collins and
Archie can do it, I can. It's all in the game. Of course, it takes time
and training. Get in the game!"
IX
This was on Tuesday. During the rest of the week Bob worked hard. Even a
skilled man would have been kept busy by the multitude of details that
poured in on the little office. Poor Bob was far from skilled. He felt
as awkward amid all these swift and accurate activities as he had when
at sixteen it became necessary to force his overgrown frame into a
crowded drawing room. He tried very hard, as he always did with
everything. When Collins succinctly called his attention to a
discrepancy in his figurings, he smiled his slow, winning, troubled
smile, thrust the hair back from his clear eyes, and bent his lean
athlete's frame again to the labour. He soon discovered that this work
demanded speed as well as accuracy. "And I need a ten-acre lot to turn
around in," he told himself half humorously. "I'm a regular ice-wagon."
He now came to look back on his college triumphs with an exaggerated but
wholesome reaction.
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