“Oh, cut it out!” growled Hoop. “I don’t play well enough, anyway. Sandy or Ned ought to teach her if anybody’s got to.”
“We’ll put on the finishing touches, after you’ve taught her the rudiments,” said Ned kindly. “As to football, why, I guess that’s where Clara comes in. As he doesn’t play he will make a nice guide for the girl. All in favor—”
“Aye!”
Clara looked worried but said nothing.
“She’s as pretty as a picture, Clara,” said Spud. “Wish I were you!”
“You can take my place if you want to,” said Clara eagerly.
“Yes, but you see I have to play,” Spud answered hurriedly, while the others laughed. “Is there—is there any other little thing we can do for her, Cal?”
“Not that I know of—yet. I cal’late she’ll think of something, though,” he added gloomily.
“It’s perfect nonsense,” declared Sandy, “but I don’t see what else we can do. We’ll just have to—to humor her and get on the right side of her until she gives up that old pillow-case.”
“Even if she did,” said Dutch, “she could tell on us any time she got mad.”