BY JULIANA CONOVER.
"Slide! Slide! You'll make it! Hooray! Hooray! Tiger! Siss-boom-ah!"
"Wake up, Bingham, wake up!"
The boy opened his eyes with a start. "Mother! Why, what's the matter?"
"I've been shaking you for fully two minutes, dear. I want you to get up."
"Oh, what made you wake me?" reproachfully. "I was in the middle of a dream that I was playing second base in Tom's place, and was just making the winning run for Princeton."
"Wouldn't you rather see the winning run made than dream about it?"
Bingham sat up; he was wide-awake now.
Mrs. Bradfield smiled. "Yes," she said, "I am going to let you go after all. Tom is so unhappy about it, so feverish and restless, that I am actually afraid of the consequences if he does not hear all about the game, so I have promised him to let you ride to Princeton on your bicycle; it is only twenty-five miles, and part of the way the road is good. You will have to stay all night, but Tom says that you can sleep in his room, and that Frank Porter will look after you."
"Tiger-tiger-tiger! Siss-siss-siss-boom-boom-boom-ah-ah-ah!" shouted Bingo, and he pitched his pillow all across the room. "Trying a new curve," he hastily explained.