“I’m going to play baseball,” announced Gerald decisively.
“Well, we will see about that,” replied his father. “It’s a long way to Spring yet. You keep up with your studies for a couple of months and we will talk about baseball later.”
“You must see Mr. Bendix to-morrow,” said Dan, “and take your physical examination. He will tell you what sports you can go in for.”
“Does he have the say?” asked Gerald anxiously. Dan nodded.
“You’d better believe he does! If he says you can’t play baseball or football you can’t, and that’s all there is to it. But he’s square, all right, is ‘Muscles,’ and you want to do just as he tells you. He’s a wonder!”
Gerald considered this in silence a moment. Then:
“If a fellow can’t play baseball and things I don’t see any use of coming here,” he murmured.
Mr. Pennimore laughed.
“So that’s your idea, is it, son? Well, let me tell you that you’re here to fit yourself for college. You wanted to come here, Gerald, and you’ve had your way. Now there must be no backing down, my boy. Life isn’t all play, as you’ll find out when you get older, but you can make it seem like play by taking an interest in work. You mustn’t think that because I’ve got money enough for us both that you’re going to sit down and twiddle your thumbs and watch the procession go by. No, sir! You’re going to march with the rest, and I want to see you marching at the head. Work’s one of the best things life has to offer, if we only realize it, and the man who loves his work is the man who does it best and gets the most out of life. Well, you’ll think me a tiresome old codger if I lecture any longer. Just you put the same amount of enthusiasm into work that you do into play, Gerald, and you won’t have much trouble. Now I must get down to the station if I’m going to catch that train.”
“Are you going abroad soon, sir?” asked Dan.