“Nor any reason for it, either. Of all—”
“Hi, you fellow!” interrupted a scandalized voice. “What are you doing up there? Have you done your two laps?”
The speaker was a lanky, red-haired man who bristled with authority and outrage.
“Two laps?” stammered Ned. “No, sir.”
“Get at it, then. And beat it in when you have. Want to catch cold, do you? Sitting around without a blanket or anything like that!” The trainer shot a final disgusted look at the offender and went on.
“Gee,” murmured Ned, “I thought I was done! Two laps, he said! I’ll never be able to, Laurie!”
“Oh, yes, you will,” was the cheerful response. “And while you’re doing them you can think up a better rhyme for ‘football’ than I did!”
Ned looked back reproachfully as he limped to the ground and, having gained the running-track, set off at a stiff-kneed jog. Laurie’s expression relented as he watched.
“Sort of tough on the kid,” he muttered sympathetically. Then his face hardened again and he shook his head. “I’ve got to be stern with him, though!”