“Why, Rodney!” This was May, scandalized. “How can you say such a thing? Just think what it is to be the brother of a real hero like Ginger Merrill! You can’t mean it!”
“Do, though,” grunted Rodney doggedly. “I’m sick of hearing about him and sick of seeing his pictures all over the shop. And look what a mess I’m in on his account. Got to go out to-morrow and fall around on a slippery old football and get bruised up. I can’t play and I told them so, but it didn’t do any good.” He kicked exasperatedly at the mallet he held. “I’ve a good mind not to go at all!”
“Oh, Rodney!” cried Matty. “You must! Think what a splendid thing it will be to get on the team and play against Bursley and maybe win the game for us!”
“Tell you I’m no good at it!” said Rodney impatiently. “I’ve tried it. Besides, I don’t want to play football. I won’t have time.”
“Why won’t you?” asked Matty.
“Because I want to study. I’m going to try for a scholarship. I’m willing to try for the baseball team and I like to play tennis, but I don’t want anything to do with football.”
“But—but—you ought to, Rodney! Your duty to the school——”
“Piffle!”
Matty looked pained. “But you did ought to——”
“Had ought to, I think,” corrected May.