“Yes, I would, sir!” cried Gerald eagerly. “I’d like it!”
Mr. Pennimore’s eyebrows were lifted in comic surprise.
“Well, this is something new,” he said. “This must be your influence, Dan. Or was it the football game you witnessed yesterday, Gerald?”
“Neither, sir. But I’d like to play football and things like other fellows, father. Nothing ever happens to me,” he added dolefully.
“Something pretty nearly happened to you last week,” replied his father gravely. “I suppose that, on the whole, football is fairly mild compared to being burned up! So you’d like to play football, son? Well, here’s Dan. Can’t he and you have a game together sometimes?”
“Two fellows can’t play football!” said Gerald scathingly.
“Oh, can’t they? No, I suppose not—not a regular game; but I should think you could run and kick the ball around and—er—throw each other down.”
“Oh, there’s no fun in that,” answered Gerald. “I want to play real football, sir.”
“Well, go ahead,” said Mr. Pennimore gravely. “Say what you want to, son.”