"Dan's all right too," Harold defended. "He's democratic."
"So is the thug that hits you over the head and takes the money out of your pocket," said Peggy sharply. "Only the thug's more frank in his methods."
But she would not discourse further on the subject of Sheldon. She did, however, promise to drop in at football practice the following Wednesday afternoon. Though, truth to tell, she did not look forward eagerly to the occasion. A glance at Harold's freakish-looking uniform had indicated that his previous experience with the game must have been of an elementary character. She would not enjoy the spectacle of Harold in the rôle of water boy, she knew.
At nine o'clock she suggested tactfully that he had better retire to his room.
"You'll have to study harder if you expect to play on the football team," she told him. "They cut you off the squad if you fall down in your work, you know."
"I'll study," he promised her. "Only I wish you wouldn't make me go."
She was firm, however, and he arose to depart. As he started to mount the stairs, she called up to him, "And, Harold—wear your street clothes to the football field to-morrow."
