Alf’s face lighted up when he saw it.
“Great! Where did you get it, kid?”
“Found it on the table in your room.”
“All ready, Yardley?” called the referee.
“Just a minute, please,” answered Alf, strapping the wristlet on. “You say you found it on the table in—” He stopped and viewed Gerald suspiciously. “How did it get there?”
“That’s something I can’t tell you,” answered Gerald with a smile.
“Can’t or won’t?” asked Alf frowningly. “Well, never mind now. I’ve got to get back. Take the bag off it, Gerald, and don’t let it out of your hands until the game’s over. By Jove, I’m glad you got it, wherever it came from! You’re a trump, Gerald!”
He tossed the rejected tape onto the ground and turned to skate away. But the next instant he was circling back.
“Where are your togs, kid?” he asked abruptly.
“In the gym,” answered Gerald.