“Aw, Ken, lemme sleep s'more.”
He opened his eyes and, seeing the room full of boys and men, he looked bewildered, then suspicious.
“Wull, what do all you guys want?”
“We only came in to see you asleep in your new varsity sweater,” replied Ken, with charming candor.
At this Raymond discovered the sweater and he leaped out of bed.
“It's a lie! I never slept in it! Somebody jobbed me! I'll lick him!... It's a lie, I say!”
He began to hop up and down in a black fury. The upper half of him was swathed in the red sweater; beneath that flapped the end of his short nightgown; and out of that stuck his thin legs, all knotted and spotted with honorable bruises won in fielding hard-batted balls. He made so ludicrous a sight that his visitors roared with laughter. Raymond threw books, shoes, everything he could lay his hands upon, and drove them out in confusion.
Saturday seemed a long time in arriving, but at last it came. All morning the boys kept close under cover of the training-house. Some one sent them a package of placards. These were round, in the shape of baseballs. They were in the college colors, the background of which was a bright red, and across this had been printed in white the words: “Peg Ward's Day!”
“What do you think of that?” cried the boys, with glistening eyes. But Ken was silent.
Worry came in for lunch and reported that the whole west end of the city had been placarded.