“No, it isn’t all. Will you come?”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Will you come?” said Walter persistently.
“What time?”
“Any time after supper.”
“I guess so.”
“I shall expect you!”
The boys separated, each starting for his home. Walter’s elation over the result of the game was great and manifested itself in the way in which he walked along the road that led to his grandfather’s farm, which was a half-mile or more from the little village. His thoughts plainly were upon some project in his mind, for he frequently exclaimed, “Great! We’ll have something to show next spring! The school will think I’ve made the greatest find in years!”
As Walter turned into his grandfather’s yard he saw his father and mother seated on the wide, shaded veranda, and instantly he ran to greet them. “When did you come?” he asked his father as soon as he had warmly welcomed him.
“I arrived about half an hour ago. Been playing ball, Walter?” Mr. Borden inquired, as he glanced at his boy’s uniform.