“They meant in the head,” replied the other gravely.
“They were dead right, too! But, honest, old thing, joking aside——”
“Arn, I haven’t got time for football and I can’t afford it.”
“That’s what you said about hockey last winter. And you were so pressed for time that you copped a Ripley Scholarship! As for ‘affording’ it, where’s the expense come in?”
“Togs and things,” answered Toby. “And traveling expenses. Arn, if I went in for football and made the team—which I couldn’t do in a million years—I’d have to go back to sponging coats and pressing trousers, and that would make the room awfully smelly, and you wouldn’t like it a bit.” And Toby ended with a laugh.
“Piffle! All right, have your own stubborn way. You’ll miss a whole lot of fun, though.”
“And a whole lot of bruises! Anyway, Arn, one football hero is enough in a family. I’ll stay at home and cut surgeon’s plaster for you and keep your crutches handy and hear your alibis.”
“Idiot,” said Arnold. “Come on, dump that truck on the chair and let’s go over to Dudley. I want to hear some sensible conversation for a change.”
“You don’t mean you’re going to keep quiet all evening, do you?” asked Toby with concern.