“You mean it might develop the habit of defeat?” laughed Dick. “That’s a new idea, George. I didn’t know you were such a psychologist.”
“I’m not, I’m a Methodist,” retorted the manager.
“There may be something in your theory, though,” Dick continued, “and so I guess it will be best to let them win once in awhile.” Dick’s eyes twinkled as he turned to Lanny’s somewhat disconsolate countenance. “Which game on the rest of the schedule would you rather win, Lanny?”
“What!” exclaimed the captain. “Do you mean that—” Then he caught the gleam of laughter in Dick’s eyes and grinned relievedly. “We’ll beat the grads,” he said. “How’ll that do?”
“Finely! So let’s get busy and see where we stand.” Dick took up his memorandum again. “Move up here, George, and let me have those notes of yours. That’s the ticket. Now then, starting with the plays we used——”
CHAPTER XIII
A TRIP TO THE CITY
On Monday, Morris and his sister and May Burnham made the journey to New York. Mr. Brent had advanced to them the difference between what had been paid in by subscribers to the Fund and the ninety dollars at which they had figured the purchases. They set off in fine spirits, for the day was what Morris called a “perfect corker,” and all were flushed with the spirit of adventure. They had luncheon on the train, Morris acting the part of host, and reached the Grand Central Terminal a few minutes after they had finished. Visits to New York were infrequent enough to make them feel quite breathlessly excited as they followed Morris to the street. Morris was all for getting to the furniture store by subway, but the girls wanted to see the sights, they declared, and refused to be beguiled underground.
“I always feel like a human mole down there,” said Louise. “And I’m frightened half to death besides.”