“I will. Get out!”
So Kendall, feeling rather as though he had had a skyscraper fall on him and had been kicked by a mule, trudged out and up the path to the gymnasium, the clamor of shouts and cheers and the piping of the whistle lessening as he went. Halfway to the gymnasium, warned by a sudden burst of triumphant cheering, he turned and looked back. They were diving under the ropes and flooding onto the field. The game was over. Kendall, smiling blissfully, hurried on.
[CHAPTER XX]
HARRY REMEMBERS
“Broadwood had a little team,
It couldn’t play at all,
And ev’ry time it tried to pass
It dropped the blooming ball!
The ball, the ball, the ball, the ball,
It dropped the blooming ball!
“It tried to play with Yardley once,
And, oh, it was a shame
To see the way old Yardley went
And took away that game!
The game, the game, the game, the game,
And took away the game!”
“Some range, what?” asked The Duke, slapping Harry Merrow on the shoulder as they clattered up the last flight in Clarke. “Honestly, I don’t see how grand opera’s got along all these years without me! ‘The game, the game, the game, the game; And took away the ga-a-me!’ Get that chord? Kind of bad, what? Sometimes I have to pity Caruso and Scotti, old man.”
“Why, they don’t have to hear you, do they?” asked Harry innocently, as The Duke flung open the portal of Number 47.
“Good thing for them they can’t! They’d swallow a couple of solos and commit suicide. Sit down and be miserable. For once that Fido of mine isn’t here.”