“Just the thing,” assented Tom. “Fork over a couple of bones, Sid. I’ll let you have it directly.”
“I—er—I’m sorry,” fairly stammered the second baseman, for that was the position Tom had picked out for his chum, “I haven’t but fifty cents until I get my allowance, or until——” and he stopped suddenly.
“Wow!” cried Phil. “You must have slathered it away last night then, when you were out, for I saw you with a bundle——”
Then he stopped, for he saw a queer look come over Sid’s face. The second baseman blushed, and was about to make reply, when Phil remarked:
“I beg your pardon, Sid. I hadn’t any right to make that crack. Of course I—er—you understand—er—I——”
“That’s all right,” said Sid quickly. “I was a little flush yesterday, but I had a sudden demand on me, Tom, and——”
“Don’t mention it!” interrupted Tom. “I dare say I can get trusted at Ballman’s for a shirt. I’m going out to-night, or I wouldn’t need a clean one, and my duds haven’t come back from the laundry.”
“I didn’t know my sister was going out to-night,” fired Phil, for Tom had been rather “rushing” Ruth Clinton of late, “rushing” being the college term for accompanying a young lady to functions.
“I guess she doesn’t have to ask you,” retorted the captain. “But I understood you and Miss Tyler——”