“Yep. He’s down in Newton’s drug store buying sodas.”
Jack turned his steps thither, and met Tom coming from the place. Tom was wiping his mouth in a suggestive manner.
“Why didn’t you see me a minute sooner?” he asked. “I’d have bought you a soda,” for Tom was a most generous lad.
“Wish you had,” replied Jack. “Say, Tom, want to buy my catching glove?”
“What’s the matter with it?” asked Tom quickly, for he had several times before offered to purchase the big mitt, only to be met with a refusal. “Ain’t it any good?”
“Sure, it’s good!”
“Then what you want to sell for?”
“Well, I’m going to play short this season, and I don’t need a catching glove. It’s a dandy. Look at it,” and Jack handed it to Tom, having taken off the paper wrapping when he was out of sight of the professor’s house.
“It’s all right,” acknowledged Tom, after a critical inspection. “How much?”
“Give me two dollars?”