Madge laughingly held up her hand as she replied, “My dear boy, if we had twenty unexpected guests, it would not inconvenience us in the least.”
“We’d just add twenty more cups of water to the soup,” Everett explained gayly, and then the Chinese gongs called them to the dining-room. The cook, who was an especial friend of Everett’s, had been duly notified by that youth, and so the correct number of places had been laid.
The boys were so excited over the coming game that they could talk of nothing else. There were two high schools in the city, and the North High was to play against the South High. Everett attended the North High, and so, of course, his guests were on his side.
“We’ll win!” Everett cried. “How could we lose? We have the best pitcher this side of Jerusalem.”
“Everett!” Madge exclaimed. “Isn’t that a good deal of a boast? Jerusalem is a long way off. Wouldn’t you better say Sunnyside?”
“No, ma’am,” Everett retorted. “Eric Brownley is the best pitcher in the whole United States, or I miss my guess.”
“Why, that’s the boy we met at Little Bear Lake, isn’t it? The one who had been brought up by that nice old lumberman?” Adele asked.
“The very same!” Everett replied.
And then, as soon as lunch was over, the merry party put on their wraps, entered the two cars, and were soon driven to the campus of the North High, where the game was to be held.
Everett was so excited that he simply had to shout, but a great disappointment was awaiting him.