ing up his strength to mount the Sayre porch, a fat hand suddenly struck him a resounding blow in the back.
"Hello, Speedy, how's the boy!" came the loud voice of Sheldon's friend, Garrity, who was escorting a Clark Street girl to her home.
Harold's headguard, which he had been holding in his hand, fell to the sidewalk. He tried to do his Lester Laurel jig to greet Garrity, but he could hardly manage it. The Sophomore passed on down the street curious and grinning.
"Speedy" bent to the task of picking up his headguard from the sidewalk. In the front yard next door Mr. Hodge, the Tate butcher, was engaged in propping up his flowers with sticks. He bent a stick over his knee to make it the same length as the others. A sharp crack sounded in the crisp autumn air. Harold suddenly turned pale and clutched at his bent back. For an instant he thought it had broken! Then he straightened, realizing the absurdity of his fears.
Out on University Street the Tate General Hospital ambulance went clanging by at a furious pace. Harold threw up his hand as if to hail it! But, disregarding him, it went rushing on. Harold turned wearily toward the Sayre front porch.
He made the steps up to the porch all right.
