But the next morning he felt more hopeful. To reassure himself he went over to the vacant lot with the football and put it through its paces to his entire satisfaction. And then, since it was Thanksgiving Day and the big game was to start at half past ten, he tucked the magic football in the hollow of his arm and joined the crowd that was wending its way to the field. He passed Billy Blue’s house on the way, and, in answer to his whistle, Billy appeared at an upstairs window with his face swathed in cotton batting and linen and waved to him sadly.
“Where’d you get the football?” mumbled Billy enviously.
“A fair—a fellow gave it to me,” answered Tommy. “Or maybe he just loaned it to me. It—it’s a wonder!”
“Going to the game?”
“Yep. Wish you were, Billy.”
“So do I! We’ll get licked, though.”
“Bet you we don’t! Bet you we win!”
Billy tried to say “Yah!” but it hurt too much and so he contented himself with shaking his head and looking sarcastic. “Yes, we will!” he mumbled. “Like fun!”
“We will, though, and, Billy——” Tommy sank his voice so the passers wouldn’t hear. “Want me to tell you something nobody else knows?”
Billy nodded.