"Slump be blowed!" said Tom. "This is a fine time to slump, five days before the game!"
"I know that, too, but there's no use howling about it. What we need, Tom, is to have you get back there at right guard, old man."
"That's what I've been saying," exclaimed Amy earnestly. "I want Tom to go to Josh and ask him to let him play, but he won't. Says it wouldn't be any good. You don't know whether it would or not, Tom, until you try it. Look here, Josh doesn't want us to get beaten Saturday any more than we want it ourselves, and if you sort of put it up to him like that——"
"I'd look well, wouldn't I?" laughed Tom. "Telling Josh that unless he let me off pro the team would get licked! Gee, that's some modest, isn't it?"
"You don't have to put it like that," replied Amy impatiently. "Be—be diplomatic. Tell him——"
"What we ought to do," interrupted Tim, "is get up a petition and have everyone sign it."
"I thought of that, too," said Amy, "but this dunder-headed Turk won't stand for even that."
"Why not, Tom?" asked Don.
"And after that?" asked Amy sweetly.