And he might have heard Ned’s loud sigh of relief, had not the pounding of the charging enemy and the cries of the Hillman’s horde drowned it.
Another kick-off and four plays ended the contest, and High School, after cheering half-heartedly, went off disgruntled and silent.
On his way to the field-house, Ned, trotting along with Hop, encountered Polly and Mae in the throng, and paused to speak. “Bully game, wasn’t it?” he said. Then, seeing Mae’s High School banner, he added: “High School put up a dandy fight, Mae.”
“Indeed she did,” agreed Mae. “I thought once she was going to win, too.”
Polly was laughing. “Poor Mae didn’t know which team she wanted to win,” she explained. “When High School gained she waved her flag, and when Hillman’s gained she waved it just the same. She was waving it all the time! That was a lovely goal you made, Nid.”
“Thanks. I—well, I was so scared I didn’t know whether to kick the ball or bite it! I’m mighty glad it went over, though.” He nodded and hurried on in the wake of Hop, who, being a very earnest young gentleman and completely absorbed in the business of football, considered girls far outside his scheme of things.
Three quarters of an hour later, Laurie arose from his recumbent position on the window-seat of Number 16 East Hall, and delivered an ultimatum in quiet but forceful tones. “Ned,” he said, “I saw that game from about the middle of the first quarter to the bitter end. Nothing escaped my eagle gaze. I can even tell you exactly how many times that High School umpire consulted his rules book when he thought no one was looking. I know how much dirt there was in Frank Brattle’s left ear when they dragged him out. I know—”
“Well, what of it? What’s your chief trouble?” growled Ned.
“Knowing all this and more, much more, Neddie, I refuse to listen any longer to your reminiscences. You’ve been through the game three times since you landed up here, and there’s a limit to my endurance. And you’ve reached that limit, Neddie—you really have. I’m going down to George’s, where I may hear something besides touch-downs and passes and goals. When you recover, Neddie, come on down.”
“Oh, go to the dickens!” muttered Ned, as the door closed softly.