“One,” replied Jack grudgingly.
“Did he? Well, anyway, I guess he’s dished. I’m sorry, too, for I like Will, and he can play good ball sometimes. I dare say Shay will put you in right field on Monday. Then all you’ve got to do is to play the game you can play and you’ve got the position cinched for Saturday.”
“Sounds easy the way you tell it,” replied Jack with a smile, “but suppose I don’t play the game I can play?”
Sam shrugged his broad shoulders. “Then it’s a toss-up, I guess, between you and Will. Anyway, you’ll get into the Chase game long enough to get your letters.”
“I don’t care so much about my letters,” answered Jack.
“You don’t? Why not? That’s what every fellow wants, you goop! Think how swell you’ll look on Class Day with your M. R. on your cap.”
“Maybe it will be too hot for caps,” laughed Jack. “Can I put the letters on my straw?”
“It’s never too hot for caps that have M. R. on them,” replied Sam. “Reminds me of a story my dad tells. There used to be a man in our town who was the glummest, sourest old codger you ever saw. Never smiled in his life, they say, until one day he got mixed up with a street car and had two teeth knocked out. The dentist put in two gold ones. After that the old chap grinned all the time, just to show his gold teeth, and grinning seemed to improve his disposition wonderfully. He got quite cheerful and sunny and folks got to liking him. The only trouble was that he never got asked to funerals because he couldn’t stop grinning!”
“That means, I suppose,” laughed Jack, “that I’ve got to wear my cap all summer. Not much, letters or no letters! I’d rather be comfortable than stylish.”
“That’s what they all say,” responded Sam knowingly, “until they get something to be stylish about. I dare say you’ll be like Pete Bates. Pete won his football letters in his Junior year. He got so fond of his sweater that he wore it all the time. Some fellows say he even slept in it! Anyway, he came into Talcott’s class one morning with it on and Talcott got so mad he reported him to Benny.”