“Why—er—I want to. That is, if it is all right with you, sir.”
“Boy, I wouldn’t stand in your way a bit. Indeed, I’ll help you. You can be school reporter again when—er—I understand there’s a reason why you can’t handle the job this term.”
“There is,” said Jeff ruefully. “All special privileges have been denied me and I suppose I’ll have to sweat out my punishment when I go back. But I’ll take my medicine the same as I always have.”
“That’s the boy, Thatcher. And remember, if you ever want to come back into newspaper work and I’m still boss here, why just you come and knock on my office door. But go back to Pennington now by all means. I’m interested in that old school, too. Had a son who graduated from there back in 1910. You don’t remember him, of course. He played baseball; was captain in his senior year.”
“Oh, is that so. Bud Russell, wasn’t he? Shucks, I’ve seen his name on the list of captains any number of times. Played catcher, didn’t he? Sure. Gee, I want to make that team this year. I’m going out for it and try mighty hard.”
“Good, and if you make it, I’m going over to Montvale and see you play. When are you getting through here?”
“As soon as possible, Boss. I don’t want to waste a day’s time. I’ll have to plug like the dickens to catch up with my classes now. I’ve been out nearly three weeks and it’s getting close to the end of March now.”
“Well, my boy, you can get through now. No, work to-night. Dig out that list of obits, run in on the hospital and—er—yes, look in at the Pipe Fitters’ Association Ball at Concordia Hall. Then you can get through. I’ll have a new man on the job to-morrow.”
“Very good, sir,” said Jeff smiling for the first time as Boss called off the list of his assignments.