path. "It's a quarterback run, isn't it?" he asked eagerly.
"Yes," said Loring. "But the 'kick' in this play, Bingham, depends on keeping the ball hidden. Now, say we're on the fifteen-yard line—"
In the village at that moment Tom emerged from Burger's drug store after his second glass of orange-squiz. He hadn't particularly wanted that second drink. He hadn't, for that matter, particularly wanted the first, but a fellow had to do something. He looked again along the almost empty sidewalk in the direction of the school, but Clif still failed to materialize. Tom scowled, dug his hands deeper into the pockets of his trousers, rattled some loose silver and pennies and turned for the fourth time to a bored survey of the left-hand window. Six dozen wrapped bottles of "Buckingham's Liquid Elixir, the Century's Greatest Scientific Discovery" made a pinkly geometrical display in the background, while in the foreground numerous boxes, alternately covered and uncovered, of "Tanne-*baum's Oil of Amber Soap" added a harmonizing tone of pale yellow. Tom scowled harder than ever and turned toward the more varied offer of the second window. But even this soon palled on fourth acquaintance, and finally he gave it up and set his steps toward school, murmuring a dejected "Heck!" as he set forth.
