"Well, if that isn't the limit!" exclaimed Bart. "I s'pose you're sorry some of us didn't get all cut up and bruised, so you could patch us up."
"Well, of course I don't want any of you to get hurt, but if you had been injured it would have been good practice for me," replied Alice. "Come on, Jennie."
Alice, who had a desire to become a trained nurse, for which profession she believed she was fitting herself by reading a book on "First-Aid-To-The-Injured," walked off with her girl chum, leaving the boys to stare after the pair.
"Alice would rather play nurse than eat her meals," commented Bart. "I wonder why Jennie didn't say something about poetry?" he added, for Jennie was of rather a romantic disposition, and was very much given to reciting verses.
"Probably the presence of Stumpy made her bashful," suggested Ned. "But I'm going. See you Monday, fellows."
The four boys resumed their walk toward their homes. With the exception of Frank Roscoe they all lived near one another. Frank resided about a mile out of the town, with his uncle, Abner Dent, a wealthy farmer.
The four boys, because of their close association, were known as the "Darewell Chums."
Darewell was located on the Still river, not far from Lake Erie. The lads had played together ever since they attended primary school, and their friendship was further cemented when they went to the High School. Attending which institution our story finds them.
There was Ned Wilding, whose mother was dead, and their father was cashier of the Darewell Bank.
Bart Keene was a stout-hearted youth, more fond of sports than he was of eating or sleeping, his father used to say. As for Stumpy, he was just the sort of a lad his name indicated. Happy, healthy, hearty and with a fund of good nature that nothing could daunt.