Page:Stanwood Pier--Crashaw brothers.djvu/213

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193
THE PINCH HITTER

the boys, understanding, did not follow, but went on shouting, serpentining, towards St. John’s School.

“Well!” said Charles. His eyes were twinkling. “You’ve spoiled your pretty white trousers!”

“I know it,” said Edward. “But that’s not the only thing I spoiled.”

Charles threw up one arm and ducked behind it in exaggerated self-defence.

“You got back at old Jackson to-day, did n’t you?” he said with a grin.

“Yes, and if next week in the race I can get back at you, I’ll feel that I’ve squared myself for that football game,” Edward replied.

“I’ve got nothing on you after to-day,” Charles admitted. Ned,” he said, breaking out suddenly into enthusiasm and slipping his hand inside his brother’s arm, “that was the best thing I ever saw. You don’t know how proud I was! When you hit that ball, I—it’s perfectly silly, but something came in my throat and I had tears in my eyes—just because I was so happy!”