"What time is it?" asked Teeny-bits.
The station agent hauled out his big silver watch, looked at it critically and announced: "Twenty-nine minutes past twelve."
"Past twelve!" repeated Teeny-bits. "It can't be."
Daniel Holbrook swung round the face of the watch and proved the correctness of his statement. "Kinder late for a boy to be gettin' up," he remarked with a chuckle.
Teeny-bits had made an instant resolve that this kindly couple who were father and mother to him should not be burdened with his troubles. He jumped to his feet and cried:
"The game starts in an hour and a half; I've got to hustle up there."
"Not until you've eaten," said Ma Holbrook, firmly. "Dinner's ready this minute."
Teeny-bits did a bit of swift mental calculation; the team was already at lunch; he could not reach the gymnasium in time to be with them; it would be better to eat here and join the squad at the field.
"I don't want much," he said. "Just a little and then I'll have to go."
"I'll hitch up Jed," said Daniel Holbrook, "and we'll all ride up together; your ma and I were intendin' to start pretty soon, anyway."