“Of course I do! I know better, but others might think—well, you know what fellows are!”
“Yes, but they needn’t know, need they? I wouldn’t tell. You—you’ve been so awfully kind to me, Jones, and I don’t know any fellows yet, and—and I’d just like you to have it! It would be awfully good of you if you would!”
Jonesie was affected by this appeal. He hesitated on the very verge of another refusal. Wigman, seeing it, renewed his appeal.
“It isn’t as though I didn’t have another perfectly good one, Jones, because I have. I do wish you would!”
“Why—why, if you put it that way,” murmured Jonesie, vacillating. “But, I say, Wigman, it’s worth five or six dollars, you know!”
“Seven,” answered Wigman, “but that’s got nothing to do with it. I—I’d just like you to have it. Won’t you, please?”
“Well, if you really want me to——” Jonesie hesitated still, but Wigman thrust the racket into his hand. Jonesie, discovering it there, viewed it with surprise. Then, “Thanks, Wigman, it’s awfully decent of you, old man. I really haven’t done anything to deserve this, you know, but I’ll accept it in—er—the spirit it is offered in. And, I say, let’s have a set some day, will you?”
“I’d love to!” exclaimed Wigman.
“Good!” Jonesie changed the racket to the other hand and offered the first to Wigman. “We’ll do it. Good luck, Wigman. Sit tight and leave everything to me! So long!”