“Well, you can’t tell, I guess,” murmured Ginger. It was one thing for him to criticize the ways of his hero, and quite another thing to listen to some one else doing it!
“Keep your orbs on your Uncle Babe to-morrow, Ginger,” laughed the big fellow. “I’m going to show you unbelievers just what the old bat can do.”
“I—I hope you will,” muttered Ginger. “I’d like to see it.”
“You will,” answered Babe confidently. “You sure will, son, you sure will. To-morrow about this time you’ll be apologizing to me and the old bat for all the harsh words you’ve spoken, Ginger. Sack cloth and ashes for you to-morrow, son!”
“I wished I was going to be there,” said Ginger longingly. “It’ll be the first game I’ve missed since I took hold.”
“Mean to say you’re not going along?” demanded Hal, while the rest stared in surprise.
“Can’t, Cap.” Ginger shook his red head regretfully.
“Why not?” asked Babe. “Who says so?”
“Mister Naylor. He says he can’t afford to pay my fare. Course, I’d pay my own fare, only my—my dividends ain’t been comin’ in very regular lately—”