“Didn’t you make it?”
“No, they kicked me out,” laughed Dan. Gerald looked incredulous.
“Why?” he asked indignantly. “I’ll bet you’re a dandy player! Why don’t you make them take you on?”
“It can’t be done. There are too many fellows who play a lot better than I do. What I was going to say, though, was that if your father will let you come over some day we’ll go down and watch practice if you’d like to.”
“You bet I would! I’ve seen the fellows playing sometimes from the road. Maybe I can come Saturday. Would that be all right? Where do you live?”
“Saturday would be all right. There is a game Saturday. I room in Clarke Hall, number 28. Can you remember that?”
“Yes, I’ll remember it all right. There’s the doctor. Shall we have him in here?”
“Wherever you say,” answered Dan.
The doctor’s visit was soon over. Dan’s burns were healing nicely and Gerald had nothing to show but a contusion on his head and a slight burn on one wrist. He had stumbled over Jack when he had gone into the play-house and had struck the edge of the table in falling. The blow had partially stunned him, and he declared that he didn’t remember a thing until he found himself outside on the grass. When the doctor had gone, the big chocolate-brown touring car swung up the drive to the steps and the two boys climbed in.