“I’d like to very much. I guess you’re better than I am, though.”
Tad observed him thoughtfully and shook his head in doubt. “I don’t know. You look dangerous, Merrill. Say, what’s your other name? Roderick, isn’t it?”
“Rodney.”
“That so? That’s some name, isn’t it? How’d you like to go through life with Theodore pinned to you?”
“Seems to me I’ve heard of a Theodore who made quite a stir,” replied Rodney.
“You mean Teddy? Bet you they’d have given him a third term if his name had been John or William. Theodore’s a beast of a name. I’m going to call you Rod. It’s easier than Merrill.”
They had come to another street and another gate and in front of them spread a wide field of closely cropped turf that was just beginning to lose its summer green. Two stands flanked a blue-gray running track, within whose oval the white lines of a newly marked gridiron shone brightly. Already the scene was a busy one. Practice had not actually begun, but many candidates were on hand and a greater number of fellows were grouped and strung about the edge of the field to look on.
“That’s a dandy field!” exclaimed Rodney admiringly as his gaze went off across to where a line of young willows marked the further side of the enclosure.
“Almost seven acres,” said Tad proudly. “Bet you there isn’t a better field in the country. And look at the view!”
Rodney obeyed. From where they stood near the entrance they could look down over the dwindling houses of the end of the village, and follow the course of the Hudson for many miles as like a broad blue ribbon it wound slowly and majestically northward between sloping hills of forest and meadow.