“Why don’t you try hockey then? You’d like it awfully. It’s a ripping sport.”
“I’d be afraid I’d fall over one of those sticks you push around,” laughed Toby.
“Maybe you would at first,” said Crowell, smiling, “but you’d soon get the hang of it. You look to me like a fellow who’d be clever about learning a thing. How old are you, any how? Sixteen, I suppose.”
“Not yet. Fifteen.”
“Fourth Class, then?” Toby nodded and Crowell frowned. “Well, that wouldn’t matter. Young Sterling played on the second last year when he was in the fourth. Now, look here—”
“All right,” said Toby, jumping up, “but while we’re talking I might be pressing those pants of yours. If you’ll stick around about ten minutes I’ll have them for you. Would you mind waiting that long?”
“Not a bit. Go ahead. What I was going to say was, why don’t you come out for practice after vacation, Tucker? Of course, I can’t promise you a place on the second, but if you can skate fairly well and will learn to use a stick, I don’t see why you mightn’t make it.”
Toby spread the trousers on the board and picked up the cloth. “Why, I guess I’d love to play,” he responded doubtfully, “but I don’t know if I’d have time. I dare say you have to practice a good deal every day, don’t you?”
“About an hour and a half, usually. Think it over. Candidates have been working in the gym for a fortnight now, but you wouldn’t have missed much. You’d meet up with a lot of fine chaps, too, Tucker. And, if you want to think of it that way, you might drum up more trade!” Crowell concluded with a chuckle, and Toby smiled answeringly as he began to press the hot iron along the cloth.
“I’ll think it over, thanks,” he said after a moment. “Of course, a fellow has to do something in winter to get him out, anyway, and maybe hockey’s more fun than just skating, eh? I guess I wouldn’t be good enough for your second team, but I sort of think I’d like to try. Maybe another year I’d be better at it.”