“It is the best out of three,” Mr. Danforth told her, consolingly. “Basil is not the boy to give up yet, and if I’m not mistaken he has a reserve force which will show itself later.”
“Oh, look, what jumpers!” cried Persis, all attention. “The Grasshopper should be one of them; shouldn’t he, Lisa?”
Lisa laughed. “He is. Didn’t you know it?” she replied, with a slight blush.
Persis turned squarely around. “You don’t say so! Why didn’t you tell me? I think that’s a great joke.”
“What’s the joke?” asked Mr. Danforth, with a smile.
“Oh, some of Persis’s nonsense!” Lisa replied; but Persis merrily told him that she had found a new name for Ned Carew. “The Grasshopper is beaten; it is the Toad that has won,” she cried.
“And who is the Toad?” asked Mrs. Dixon, quite enjoying the spirit of the thing.
“Why that pop-eyed fellow with the long legs and bumpy face. He always reminds me of a toad. I have often seen him, but I don’t know his name.”
“I know him,” said Mr. Danforth. “And he does look like a toad. He is a very blasé sort of chap. I wonder he joins these sports. He is a great friend of Ned Carew’s. Yes, that is Steve Boyd. I didn’t recognize him at first.”
“There comes Basil,” cried Annis. “Now, let us see.”