“We had a very nice dinner,” said Hansel. “Of course it was plain, and there wasn’t an awful lot of it, but it was cooked finely. Mrs. Freer started to apologize once but Phin wouldn’t let her. She’s a dear old lady—only, I guess she isn’t so very old, after all—and is mighty good to Phin; looks after him just as his own mother might. And he’s nice to her, too; just as thoughtful and—er—polite as anything! They’ve got a nice little house there, clean and cozy and homelike. We had chicken.”
“Phe-e-ew!” whistled Harry. “I’ll bet they won’t have it again in a year. You were a guest of honor, my boy. Anyone has only to look at Phin to know that he doesn’t get a square meal once a month. If Mrs. What’s-her-name is so fond of him she’d better feed him up a bit.”
“I guess he doesn’t pay very much,” Hansel reminded.
During the walk following the dinner at Mrs. Freer’s, Phin and Hansel, encouraged by success, had planned a vigorous campaign, and in the evening they called on Mr. Ames and spent nearly two hours in his study. In pursuance of their plans, Hansel, on Tuesday, four days prior to the Warren game, issued an ultimatum.
“Is Cameron going to play in Saturday’s game?” he asked Bert.
“He certainly is,” was the reply.
“Very well; then you’ll have to count me out.”
“What do you mean?” cried Bert.
“Just what I say. From now on I will not play in any outside game in which Cameron takes part.”
“But—but—that’ll put us in a nasty hole!” cried the other in alarm. “What sort of a way is that to act?”