“I—I—your grandfather,” he stammered. “I couldn’t well play before him.”
“You mean you couldn’t play well,” she flashed.
“That’s all you know about it. I can blow better than Dick Burrage.”
“Then why be nervous of poor old Gran’fer? He might have been umpire.”
He was shocked again. “Good gracious, Jinny! Where did you get those betting words from?”
“That’s my affair.” She pursed her pretty lips. “But never mind—however you blow—you’ve deserved a pair of gloves to-day—in sheepskin.”
He smiled. “I’m not above taking two pairs.”
“If you win!”
“Of course I’ll win.”
“Don’t brag. Save your breath for your blowing. We shall soon be there.”