“And, oh, Dutch,” she exclaimed rapturously, “how did you ever manage to get that ball so wonderfully.”
Dutch shrugged his shoulders and grinned.
“I didn’t,” he said. “The ball was bobbing around on the ground there and someone came along and gave me a shove that sent me sprawling on my nose. Then I happened to see Mr. Ball rolling along near-by and a Hall chap trying to snuggle up to it. So I reached out and got it just in time. He didn’t want to let go, but I pulled it away somehow and worked it under me. Then they began falling on my head and back and I didn’t know much more until they turned me over.”
“Modest youth!” murmured Spud admiringly.
“Anyhow, you saved the day,” insisted Molly beamingly. “And Ned made a beautiful run, didn’t he?”
“I’d have made it beautifuller,” grunted Ned, “if I hadn’t turned my ankle when I started. That lost time, you see.”
“It was a very good run,” said Spud judicially. “I’ll say that, Ned. But you all realize, of course, that it was only made possible by my excellent assistance.”
“Why, Spud,” said Molly, “I didn’t know you helped.”