"We're going to have some big doings at the rink to-morrow afternoon, will you come down and referee, Patty?" said Frank.
"Sure I'll come, and I'm the dandy little referee. Refereed for years at the St. Nicholas Rink. Yale, Princeton and Harvard cried for me, and once I was in the hospital, and they wouldn't play the game."
"It's a fine thing to have a reputation," said Jimmy.
"Much better to have an imagination like the Wee One's, though," said David.
"What are the doings?" inquired the referee. "Are you going to take on Chip's bunch?"
"Not on the picture of the Sacred Cow. We are going to play with gentlemen—that is, we are going to have a game with ourselves. Since there will be no more scrapping you will be safe. We will promise not to speak even an unkind word to you," said Frank.
"And I'll be down to keep the record of all the perfectly lovely tallies," said Gleason.
"You will not need to bring a large book. Lewis is goal-tender, and he's so fat that the only way to score is to throw the puck right through him, and he's so thick that that is about impossible."
After more chaff and banter the Wee One got up.
"I must be going," he said. "I'm tired as a whole family of dogs, and I'm going to sleep without bothering my head about that algebra which comes to-morrow morning. If you hear any loud sounds pretty soon you'll not be alarmed, but know that it's your happy referee preparing for to-morrow's fracas. My room-mate's home for a few days, so I'll have the place all to myself. Good night."