“Is Mae Something the girl with the molasses-candy hair you were with at the high school game?” Laurie asked.
“Yes, but her hair isn’t like molasses candy. It’s perfectly lovely hair. It’s like—like diluted sunshine!”
Laurie whistled. “Gee! Did you get that, Neddie? Well, anyway, I like dark hair better.”
“Oh, I don’t! I’d love to have hair like Mae’s. And, what do you think, she likes my hair better than her own!”
“Don’t blame her,” said Laurie. “What do you say, Ned?”
“I say I’ve got to beat it back and get into football togs. What time is it?”
“Look at your own watch, you lazy loafer. Well, come on. I say, Polly, would your mother let you go to the game with me Saturday? That is, if you want to, of course.”
“Oh, I’d love to! But—I’ll ask her, anyway. And if she says I may, would you mind if Mae went too? We usually go together to the games.”
“Not a bit. I’ll be around again before Saturday and see what she says.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if she said yes,” remarked Polly. “I think she must like you boys. Anyway, you’re the first of the Hillman’s boys she has ever let me invite out here.”