“He was. I guess he was the most popular fellow we’ve ever had here. You want to speak soft and cast your eyes down when you mention him. He’s a sort of Saint, Saint Ginger!” And Tad chuckled. “Funny your name should be the same though,” he went on presently, when they had paused at the inner edge of the running track and Tad had acknowledged the salutations of numerous comrades. “He doesn’t happen to be a relation of yours, does he?”
“This Ginger chap? Why, do I look like him?” Rodney smiled.
“I’ve only seen his pictures, but—but I kind of think you do—just a little. Still I guess if you were related to him you’d know it. So would we,” he added with a laugh. “You’d be likely to mention it!”
“Who’s the tall fellow in the funny sweater?” asked Rodney.
“That’s Doyle. He’s captain. What’s the matter with the sweater?”
“Nothing except it’s a funny color.”
“It’s just faded. It used to be light green. I suppose you know that the school colors are green and gray? Green for the maple trees and gray for the rocks.”
Rodney nodded. “What’s Bursley’s color?”
“Punk! Red and blue. There’s Cotting, our coach. They say he discovered Ginger Merrill.”
“Discovered him? How?”