“I don’t know really,” answered Gordon, thoughtfully, “only somehow there’s a different air about him. There he is over there, now.”
Every eye in the group followed Gordon’s glance to where Crawford stood leaning against the fence. There was no one near him, and something in his attitude, and in the expression of his face, convinced more than one of the boys that Gordon was right, and that Crawford was changed somehow.
“Suppose there’d be any use in asking him to join the L. A. O.?” questioned Sherman, after a moment’s silence.
“I should say ask him, by all means. He can’t do more than refuse,” said Gordon; “and we must ask the new fellows, of course. Hamlin, will you interview Rosy or the black-eyed chap?”
“Neither. I’ll take the other two fellows,” said Hamlin, promptly.
“All right, then I’ll see to the black-eyed fellow; and Sherman, you might interview Rosy. I’m going to speak to Crawford, now.”
Crawford looked greatly surprised as Gordon approached, and yet more surprised when the latter made known his errand. He dropped his eyes, the color mounted in his dark cheeks, and for a moment he was silent. Then he looked Gordon full in the face and said slowly:—
“Do you really want me, Gordon?”
“I certainly do, or I would not have asked you,” was the quiet reply.
“And the other fellows?” questioned Crawford.