But Gordon was not at home. Mrs. Merrick said she believed he had gone somewhere with Fudge.
“I’ll see him at four o’clock,” said Dick. “I told the fellows we’d meet at the field and hold practice if we could find room there. I don’t see why—Excuse me a minute, will you?”
The telephone had rung and Dick took his crutches again and once more swung himself into the house.
“This you, Dick?” asked the voice at the other end of the line. “This is Morris. Say, Dick, I had a funny message from my dad a few minutes ago. He telephoned from the office. ‘You can tell that Merrick boy,’ says he, ‘that he can go on and use the field. Tell him to come and see me Wednesday. I’m going to Hartford at three and I’ll be back Wednesday noon.’ That’s great, isn’t it?”
“Fine! Do you suppose he means that we can have it until after Saturday, Morris?”
“Sure! Anyway, it sounds so, doesn’t it? And his wanting to see Gordon makes it look that way, too. I’ve been trying to find Gordon, but his mother says he’s out somewhere. If you see him get him to call me up here at the Point, Dick.”
“I will. That’s bully news, Morris, and your father’s a brick! I’ve just been talking with Mr. Potter. He’s all het up about it,” laughed Dick. “He will be tickled to death! So long, Morris, and thanks. I’ll tell Gordon when I see him about four.”
Dick hung up the receiver and went back to the porch to be confronted by Mr. Potter’s eager and questioning countenance.
“I couldn’t help hearing what you said,” he exclaimed. “Has he come around?”
“I think so. He telephoned Morris to tell Gordon that we could go on and use the field and that Gordon was to call and see him on Wednesday. He’s going to Hartford this afternoon. I guess it’s all right.”