“Are you going to play?” Matty asked.
“Me? Oh, I don’t think so. Maybe I’ll get in for a few minutes at the last. Cotting will probably try to save the first string fellows as much as he can for next Saturday. Isn’t it a brute of a day?”
“We like it,” said Matty. “Don’t we, May?”
“We always like rain,” May agreed. “Mama says we make her think of a pair of water spaniels. Just as soon as ever it begins to rain Matty and I grab our raincoats and get out of doors. We like snow, too, don’t we, Matty?”
Matty nodded. “I wish you might have seen the snowman we made last winter, Rodney. It was twice as high as I am, and we put a pipe in his mouth and an old hat on his head and called him ‘Chawles,’ for Mr. Cooper.”
“And when we were laughing about it, Mrs. Westcott heard us from her window and called up mama on the telephone and told her that we were insulting Mr. Cooper!”
“And then,” added Matty complacently, “we changed him to a woman and called her Mrs. Westcott.”
“The boys said it looked just like her,” murmured May reminiscently.
Tad and Pete, who had gone to join the cheerers below, returned to their seats, and presently Rodney returned to the substitutes’ bench just as the teams trotted back on the field, the water spouting under their feet.