“Well, boys, how did you make out at the game?” asked Mr. Smith, as his three sturdy sons tramped into the house a little later.
“Fine,” answered Pete. “It was a close game, but we won.”
“Good!” exclaimed the father. “I wish I’d been there.”
“What’s Mrs. Murdock got for supper?” demanded Bill, as he sniffed various odors coming from the kitchen. “I hope it’s roast lamb!”
“I want sausage and potatoes!” cried Pete.
“Get out! It’s too early for sausage,” asserted Cap. “Guess again, Pete.”
“What is it, Mrs. Murdock?” demanded Bill, as the housekeeper just then entered the room.
“Roast beef and baked potatoes,” she answered, and there was a chorus of delighted howls.
“Fine!” cried Bill a second afterward making a rush for the buxom lady who had kept house for Mr. Smith, since his wife’s death some years before. The other brothers, following Bill’s lead, tried to kiss her at the same time, but she shut herself up in the pantry for refuge, and declared that they would not only be the cause of making the potatoes burn, but would also spoil the roast if they did not raise the siege. So they capitulated, and a little later were sitting down to a meal, with such appetites as only bless those who play ball.
And while the meal is in progress I will take the opportunity of introducing you to the Smith lads a little more formally.