“‘Good-night,’ responded Gordon and Fudge”
“Yes, but then they’d want their expenses guaranteed.”
“Look here,” observed Dick, “why couldn’t we charge admission to some of the games after we got started? I dare say quite a lot of folks would pay a quarter to see a good game.”
“They might,” conceded Lanny. “We could try it, anyway. If we could get, say, a hundred admissions, we’d have twenty-five dollars, and then we could pay the expenses of any team around here. That’s a bully idea, Dick. As a manager you’re all to the good.”
“I thank you,” replied Dick, setting his crutches under his arms. “We’ll talk it over to-morrow. You come over, too, Lanny; and Fudge if he is not in the throes of literary composition.”
“I’ll walk around with you,” said Lanny. “It’s too bully a night to go to bed, anyway. Good-night, fellows.”
“Good-night,” responded Gordon and Fudge. “Good-night, Dick.”
They watched the two as long as they were in sight in the white radiance of the moon, and then:
“They’re two of the finest fellows in the world,” said Fudge warmly. “And wouldn’t Dick be a wonder if he was like the rest of us, Gordie?”
“Y—yes,” replied Gordon thoughtfully, “only—sometimes I think that maybe if Dick was like the rest of us, Fudge, he might not be the splendid chap he is.”