“Seems to me,” said Dick, “you’ve spent most of your time of late working practical jokes on me. After this I’ll never believe a thing until I’ve made sure you’re not at the bottom of it. Well, I wonder if you know that that tommyrot of yours here about my high school friends coming to see Saturday’s game started something.”
“Started something!” Blash asked eagerly. “No. What?”
“Five of the fellows read that drivel and decided to follow the suggestion. Blash, I hope you choke!”
Blash had gone off into a gale of laughter. Stanley and Sid grinned doubtfully, wanting to laugh, too, but fearful of wounding Dick’s feelings.
“O boy!” gasped Blash. “Dick, I guess we’re more than even! I’ve paid in full, eh?”
Dick smiled at last. “No, you still owe me some pennies.”
“Not a cent! You telephoned me that night at the movie house that I needn’t pay the last seven and a half cents: or, at least, ‘Uncle John’ did!”
“That’s so,” acknowledged Dick, laughing. “I’d forgotten.”
“When you get back,” said Stanley, “you can read what I wrote on the piece of paper one night. Remember?”