“Yes, I know, but—well you see, I didn’t intend to do it. I saw that ball coming down straight for the end of my nose, and I just put my hands up to ward it off. Of course every one thinks I’m a regular wonder, but I’m not. It was just an accident. I—I haven’t told any one but Ned—and you.”
“That doesn’t spoil it a bit,” declared Polly. “You did catch the ball, didn’t you? And if you’d just been trying to keep it from hitting you you wouldn’t have really caught it, would you?”
“That’s what Ned said,” mused Laurie. “Hanged if I know!”
“Ned’s perfectly right,” responded Polly emphatically.
“Of course I am,” said Ned as he and Mae joined them before the door of the little shop. “But what is it this time?”
“Never mind,” said Polly. “You can ask Laurie.”
“He probably won’t tell me,” said Ned gloomily. “He hates to say I’m right about anything. Gee, Polly, it seems funny to think that I won’t see this place again for three months.”
“It’s horrid,” answered Polly, and Mae murmured agreement. “Still, I suppose three months won’t seem awfully long. And you will write, won’t you?”
“Certainly will,” asserted Ned. “And don’t you forget to. But we’ll see you both in the morning. We don’t get away until eleven twenty-two. Thanks for coming to the dance.”