Tom's mouth opened, but he didn't seem to be able to find anything to say. Then his eyes, wandering from Mrs. Deane, encountered Loring's grin and he got very red and made a choking sound. Clif came to his rescue. "We'll do our best," he laughed. "You see, we're only on the Scrub Team, Mrs. Deane, and it's the First Team that plays Wolcott. I hope you will come, too, sir."
"Eh?" said Loring's father. "Well, now, I don't know."
"I wish you would, dad," begged Loring.
"Well, I'll see, Lory. It seems to me, though, I've got something on Sautrday."
"Not a thing but a game of golf," said Mrs. Deane, "and if Loring wants you to come—"
"Yes, yes, my dear! Of course!" He winked slyly at Clif. "I daresay it will rain Saturday, anyway."
"It wouldn't be the first time you'd golfed in the rain," responded his wife severely. "But next Saturday, rain or shine, you are coming up here with me."
"Yes, my dear," he chuckled, "I'm sure I am. Boys, take the advice of a wise old man and don't marry a tyrannical wife!"
"No, sir," answered Tom promptly and earnestly. Whereat every one laughed and Wattles lifted Loring out and the big car rolled away.
Eager to hear what Loring had learned at Cotterville the day before, Clif and Tom hurried over to his room after supper. But only Wattles was there. Mister Loring, he explained, was visiting Mr. Babcock.
