old two-bagger by one Roy Porter which had something to do with the result,” returned Chub, dryly.
“Oh, we’d have won without that. Say, do you remember Harry after the game?”
“Do I! Shall I ever forget her? She was just about half crazy, wasn’t she? And wouldn’t she have loved to have been here to-day?”
They both chuckled at the idea.
“By the way,” said Chub presently, “did we get any mail this evening?”
“I don’t think so,” said Roy; “but I didn’t look. Expecting a check?”
“Go to thunder! We ought to hear from Dick to-day or to-morrow. And Mr. Cole, too, about the boat.”
“That’s so. Maybe we’ll hear in the morning.” “Light the gas and have a look around,” begged Chub. “Sometimes Mrs. Moore picks the letters up and puts them on the table, and we don’t find them for weeks and weeks.”
“If you’d keep the table picked up,” said Roy, severely, as he arose with a grunt and fum-
