“You and me.”
Sam’s eyes sparkled. “Wouldn’t it be great! Good seats?”
“Right behind the back-stop. Just think of seeing Owen bucking against McPherson and Hayes! O’Brien, who used to pitch for Hillbury, is going to be in the box for the Harvard Freshies, and several old Hillbury men are playing with Yale. It’s a queer jumble; Seaton catcher and Hillbury pitcher against a mixed mess,—half of them old Seaton and Hillbury fellows.”
“I shouldn’t think you’d care much who wins,” observed Sam. “You’ve got friends on both sides.”
“I do care,” answered Duncan. “I’m with the Harvard lot every time, and you are, too, only I’ve got more reason for my stand than you have. It’s Don’s class and Bob Owen’s class, and old Bob’s captain.”
“Well, I hope his nine will win. The Yale fellows beat ’em in football, didn’t they?”
“Yes, and Bob was on the eleven. He’s aching to get back at them. It’ll be a hot old game, all right. The only question is whether we can break away to see it. Who’s the most likely prof for you to tackle? You’ll have to get the permissions. I haven’t a pull with a single man in the faculty, worse luck!”
It was decided that Sam should try to win Dr. Leighton to the cause, and through the strong influence of the teacher float Duncan’s uncertain craft across the bar. Duncan suggested various subtle methods of appealing to Dr. Leighton’s favor, but Sam preferred a simple, straightforward course,—which was unquestionably the best one. He called on his patron saint of the faculty that afternoon, explained to him with eager enthusiasm the special opportunity which had been offered, urged that neither had had out-of-town leave for a long time, and promised, if they were allowed to go, not only exemplary conduct while absent, but compensation in diligent work on their return. Dr. Leighton smiled a little mournfully at this conception of diligence in school work as a favor granted to a teacher, and promised to think the matter over and do what he conscientiously could. Sam departed, greatly encouraged.
Two circumstances counted in favor of the boys’ request: the fact that the invitation came from Robert Owen, for whom Dr. Leighton cherished a sincere regard, and his full confidence in Sam. He believed, moreover, that an honest petition for a legitimate purpose from an honest boy should receive at least as much consideration as some fictitious excuse of necessity trumped up to satisfy a formal rule. More than once, as he was sadly aware, had A’s candid request been refused by the authorities, when B, who followed with a lie on his lips, obtained a permission which was used for precisely the same purpose. Dr. Leighton’s commendation carried weight at the office.
They boarded the eleven o’clock train, jubilant in spirit as any schoolboy released for a lark, but self-contained as conscious Seatonians, who pride themselves on being above the “kiddishness” of minor schools. In Boston they snatched a hasty lunch and took a car for Cambridge. The car filled quickly. The Harvard track meet was to be held in the Stadium at the same time with the Freshman game on the ball field, and many outsiders were tending Cambridgeward. On Boylston Street a large, serious-faced young man climbed upon the running board of the car, and looking calmly over the crowded seats to spy out an unoccupied place, winked solemnly at a familiar face.