“I am on in that scene,” he protested.
“I thought of it first,” said Roddy.
“We will toss,” compromised Peter. “The head of Bolivar, you go. The arms of Venezuela, I go, and you stay here and catch eels.”
The silver peso rang upon the table, and Roddy exclaimed jubilantly:
“Heads! I go!” he cried. But the effort of Peter to show he was not disappointed was so unconvincing that Roddy instantly relented.
“We had better both go!” he amended. “Your headwork is better than mine, so you come, too. And if you give me the right signals, I’ll try to put the ball where you can reach it.”
As though in his eagerness he would set forth on the instant, Roddy sprang to his feet and stood smiling down at Peter, his face lit with pleasurable excitement. Then suddenly his expression grew thoughtful.
“Peter,” he inquired, “how old do you think the daughters are?”