"O, nothing," answered Frank.
They went about their evening's amusements, some to play billiards, some to read, and some to hear the victrola, but they generally returned to talk over the events of the previous evening. Frank sat silent and moody. Soon Dick Brian came up to him. Dick was what you would call a little man. He was quiet, thoughtful, affectionate and very wise. Frank and Dick were close friends. Dick thought that Frank was the finest boy in the world, and Frank had intense admiration for Dick's fearlessness and candor.
"Well Frank, what's up?" asked Dick.
"O, is that you, Dickie boy?" replied Frank.
"Yes, it's me, but you are not you," answered Dick. "What's the matter? I guess I know."
"Well, what?"
"You are worried over the 'Bull' and the racket," whispered Dick.
"Put it there, kid," replied Frank, extending his hand. "You are a wise lad, you struck it right."
Dick was two years younger than Frank, but he had an old head. That made them confidants.
"Come upstairs, Dick, I want to talk to you."