she and the tall pitcher did meet, following some busy days devoted for the most part by the boys to rowing practice. "I wanted to ask you about something?"
"I—er—I've been busy," he said, trying to make himself believe that. Ruth didn't. "Besides," he blurted out, with a school-boy mannerism that he hated himself for disclosing, "I thought Mr. Boswell could keep you interested."
"Tom Parsons!" and Ruth's eyes flashed dangerously.
"He seems to be quite a steady caller," he stumbled on, growing more and more confused and uncomfortable. He felt more childish than ever, and I am not saying he was not. "I didn't know whether there'd be room for me and"
"Tom, I don't think that's fair of you," and Ruth was plainly hurt. "Mr. Boswell has only been over one evening, when the other boys were there, and"
"Only once?" cried Tom.
"That's all. The same evening of the day when we were out in his launch. I couldn't help talking to him then, and if you think"
"I don't think anything!" broke in Tom. "I've been a chump. They said he'd been over there every night. Oh, wait until I get hold of your brother!"
"Did Phil say that?"
