“Harry is mad at Mr. Haxton, too,” she ran on. “He asked Mr. Haxton to put him on and Mr. Haxton refused—because he doesn’t like Harry any more, although he owes Harry lots and lots of money. I thought maybe, if Mr. Lawrence wrote you to come home you could go—and then Harry could play.”
Larry laughed quickly. He knew the girl did not have the least conception of what it meant to him, or to Harry Baldwin to play in the greatest game of the year, and he forgave her because of her ignorance.
“But Mr. Lawrence is not at the ranch,” he answered. “He is leaving to-day to be gone a month.”
He had cause to remember, later, that remark, although at the time it seemed unimportant.
“Well,” she said resignedly, “I’m sure I don’t care. Harry seemed so anxious to play I thought I’d help him. It doesn’t seem important to me.”
“I am sorry he is so disappointed,” said Larry forgivingly. “I know how it would be.”
“Oh, he hasn’t given up hope yet,” the girl replied carelessly. “He has another plan if Mr. Haxton won’t let him play.”
“I wonder what it can be?” mused Larry, secretly tolerant of the girl’s ignorance.
He was to learn later.