“His name is Rodney Merrill,” replied Jack calmly. “He lives in Orleans, Nebraska, and he is a younger brother of Ginger Merrill, of blessed fame!”
“Oh, somebody told you!” exclaimed Pete disappointedly.
“No, I guessed it, two days ago. I heard Merrill say he was from the west and I stopped in at the office and looked him up. Then I got an old catalogue and found that Ginger came from the same town. After that it was only necessary to compare their looks.”
“Well, why didn’t you tell a fellow?”
Jack shrugged his shoulders as he entered the gate. “He didn’t seem to want to have it known, Pete, so I kept still.”
“That’s what gets me,” said Pete. “Why the dickens did he keep so mum about it? Anyone would think he was ashamed of it! Say, it’s a bit of a feather in our hat, isn’t it? Having Ginger Merrill’s brother in our house, I mean.”
“Why, yes,” answered Jack, taking a seat on the top step and studying a nick in his bat. “It’s going to be a little hard on Merrill though,” he added soberly.
“What is?”
“This being Ginger’s brother. Fellows will expect a lot from him, won’t they?”