“Me?” asked Ira startledly. “Thunder, no! I couldn’t speak a piece!”
“Then I won’t go,” laughed Humphrey. “If you’ll make a speech, Rowly, I’ll take a chance.”
“Guess I’m the one who’d be taking a chance,” replied Ira. “How does this eye look now?”
“Dissipated, old top, dissipated! But it’s a bit better. Well, I guess I’ll run along and feed. Want to donate that dollar now, Rowly?”
“N-no, I don’t believe so.”
Humphrey frowned and paused irresolutely by the table, hat in hand. “You’re not in earnest about that, are you?” he asked. “I mean about holding out on me if I don’t go to the meeting.”
“Yes, I am, Nead. You’re wanted at the meeting and I’m asking you to go as a personal favour to me.”
“Rot! I don’t see how it affects you any, whether I go or don’t go. It isn’t your picnic.”
“Why not? I’m on the team, fighting and bleeding for the cause.” Ira felt tentatively of his nose. “Bleeding, anyhow. Naturally, I want the thing to be a success. Besides, Nead, they’ve got to raise some money if they’re going to last the season out. Shall we say about twenty minutes to eight?”
“Say what you like,” laughed Humphrey, “but don’t look for me, Rowly. I’ve got something to do tonight. Bye!”