“Is that cross solid gold?” he finally asked, weakly.
“Sure—14 carrots—a couple of turnips and a few potatoes. Stand out of the way, will you?”
Jeffrey made way for Westy Martin, who was tugging a balsam branch to Roy. Then he moved away together.
Outside the Elks’ cabin was Dory Bronson, spearing papers, for the Elks were a tidy lot and took great pride in their surroundings.
“Is that a game?” Jeffrey asked.
“Hello, Sister Anne,” said Dory. “What’s going to be the name of your patrol?”
“Do we have to have a name?” asked Jeffrey.
“You sure do. I was thinking ‘magpie’ would be a good one. They usually get everything in sight.”
Jeffrey was not good at repartee; he did not understand these boys and he could not cope with them. Much less did he understand the wholesome spirit of rivalry and of loyalty which now made Garry an outsider—ostracized for what the whole camp regarded as a piece of selfishness and unfairness. His winking at Mr. Ellsworth as he walked away with his new recruit was taken as a deliberate attempt to flaunt his triumph.
Some said he had changed since the previous summer. There were a few who said it was natural, perhaps, that he should have taken the strange boy under his wing so promptly, seeing that their homes were not far apart. But everyone agreed that by all the rules of the game Jeffrey should have gone with Tom.