“But you must eat a good hearty dinner, for you’ll need it.”
“Strictly against orders,” he declared, helping himself to the mashed potatoes and cold corned beef. “No man is permitted to overload his stomach on the day of a game.”
He fell to eating without ceremony and was quite finished when his father came in at the ringing of the bell.
“Hello! hello!” exclaimed the doctor. “Have you eaten? Why, you haven’t been in the house five minutes. I heard you when you came in.”
“You’ll have to excuse me, father; I didn’t have time to wait for you. I’m off.”
“Hold on! Aren’t you going to take your overcoat? It will be chilly riding home to-night.”
“I came near forgetting it,” said Don, whose great anxiety was to get out of the house before his father could ask any more questions. “Good-by, Aunt Ella.” He kissed her and then dashed up the stairs, leaving her standing by the table, with uplifted hands, while the doctor sat down, laughing.
“Bless us! bless us!” breathed the good woman. “What are boys in these days coming to? They actually go crazy over baseball, football and such things. Now, in our day——”
“Boys played barn tag, three-old-cat, prisoner’s base and games of that class; now they have something better, sister. There is more sense in baseball, football, tennis, polo, basket-ball and other modern games.”
“Well, there may be,” sighed Aunt Ella, sitting down and preparing to pour the tea; “but I’m sure there’s more danger, and Don gets so crazy over them that I expect he’ll come home dead some day, or crippled for life.”