Clara returned with the racket and she and Sandy proceeded to the tennis court, the others politely electing to watch from a distance so as not to embarrass the novice.
“She’s a funny one,” observed The Fungus with a grin. “‘If we are going to be friends,’ said she. She knows mighty well we don’t dare be anything else!”
“She’s a good sort,” said Spud. “And I guess we might as well make up our minds to enjoying what they call female society after this. Did you see Sandy fall for her on the spot?”
“Conceited idiot!” growled Hoop. “I hope he falls into the net and—and—”
“Chokes to death,” added Spud helpfully. “Remarks of that sort from you, Hoop, are sadly out of place. You are a—a renegade.”
“That’s all right. I didn’t agree to give her tennis lessons.”
“Do I really have to take her to watch football?” asked Clara.
“Of course you do,” Dutch said severely. “Don’t you want to?”
“I suppose so,” answered the boy.