“You’re an H. A. A. ticket-holder, aren’t you?” Kingsford asked.
“Yes.”
“Well, look here, then. I’ve got to take some of my folks to the game. There’ll be the mater and my sister and a friend; that means four seats, counting my own. I can only apply for two, of course. Are you going to take any one?”
“No, I reckon not. I hadn’t thought of it.”
“Well, will you put in your application with mine? I’ve got another fellow who is going to. That will give us six seats together, you see. Of course I’ll pay you for the second ticket. If you don’t want to be bothered talking to women folks you can have the end seat, but I want you to meet the mater. I think you’d like her.”
“I’d like to,” answered Phillip, “and the friend, too.”
“Oh, the friend!” laughed Kingsford. “Well, I can’t allow that, Phil. I’ll let you sit between Betty and the mater, but the friend’s barred.”
“Who’s Betty? Your sister?”
“She has that honour.”