“A straw to show which way it blows, perhaps,” Waring said.
“Perhaps, sir. But it’s blowing. Tyler says there’s a movement on foot to make things hot for you if you take the Presidential chair with your present intentions.”
“My intentions?”
“Yes, sir; about athletics, and sports in general.”
“And what are my so-called intentions?”
“They say, you mean to cut out sport—”
“Oh, Pinckney, you know better than that!”
“Well, Doctor Waring, some seem to think that’s what you have in mind. If you’d declare your intentions now,—”
“Look here, Pinky, don’t you think I’ve enough on my mind in the matter of marrying your aunt, without bringing in other matters till that’s settled.”
“Going to be married soon, Uncle Doc?”