“Oh, Boy! they have got that hidden fascination.”
Anthony made a swift reckoning of the price of port; it would wipe out the sum he was getting together for badly needed baseball shoes.—Red hair!—He could count on no further assistance from his father that month; the machine shop at present was an expense.
“Got any coin?” Meredith demanded.
“A few.”
The other consulted with importance the ostentatious watch. “Just the minute,” he announced. “Come along; we can get the port at the Eagle; we'll have a Paris of a time.”
Doctor Allhop offered an epigrammatic parallel between two celebrated planets.
“I need new ball shoes,” Anthony temporized; “I ripped mine the last game.”
Meredith rose impatiently. “Charge them to the family,” he ejaculated. “But if you don't want to get in on this, there are plenty of others. Two or three dollars are easy to raise in a good cause. Why, the last night I spent in the city cost me seventeen bucks.”
“I guess I'll come.” Anthony instinctively barred his sudden eagerness from his voice. He rose, and was surprised to find that his knees were trembling. His face was hot too.—he wondered if it was red? if it would betray his inexperience? “If they hand me any Sundayschool stuff,” he proclaimed bigly, “I'll step right on it; I'm considerably wise to these dames.”
“This is the real, ruffled goods.” Meredith settled a straw hat with a blue band on his sleek head, and Anthony dragged a faded cap from his pocket, which he drew far over his eyes. William Williams regarded them enviously. Craik's thoughts had wandered far, his lips moved silently. And Doctor Allhop had disappeared into the front of the drugstore.