“Well, I guess I’ll go in training, anyway. It’s good for you.”
Those were seven splendid days, and yet when the last one came neither of the two was sorry. Theaters and picture galleries and drives and walks were jolly enough, but, as Gerald sagely remarked, a fellow soon gets tired of them.
“I’d a heap rather play baseball or tennis than go to the theater,” said Gerald. “Wouldn’t you?”
Dan replied that he would, but he said it hesitatingly, for theaters and such things were more of a novelty to him than to Gerald. But he was quite as contented as Gerald when the train set them down at Wissining again. They went over to Dudley after dinner and called on Alf and Tom. Every one talked vacation for a while, and then the conversation turned to baseball and school sports.
“Payson’s coming next Monday,” announced Alf. “I saw Millener a while ago. He said that if the ground dries up enough we’ll get out on the field the first of the week.”
“Well, it’s soppy enough now,” said Dan. “And it looks like rain again.”
“Is Payson the coach?” asked Gerald.
“Yes,” Dan replied. “You remember him last Fall, don’t you? The chap that coached the football team?”
“Oh! Does he coach in baseball, too?”