“And we haven't been to Central Park, after all.”
“That will do for another day. Are boys allowed to play ball in the park?”
“Two afternoons in the week, I believe, but I never played there.”
“We shall have to try it some day.”
“I should like to play—with you.”
They reached home in full time for dinner. At the dinner table Mr. Reynolds was struck by the unusually bright and animated face of his son, and his good appetite.
“What have you been doing to make you so hungry, Herbert?” he asked.
“I took a walk with Grant, and we had a fine game of ball.”
“I am glad to hear it,” said the broker, much pleased. “If you want to become stout and strong like Grant, that is the best thing for you to do.”
“I never liked playing ball before, papa.”