"But I've got my old Sanford uniform," he objected. "I—"
"You're not in Sanford any more," she replied impatiently. "Forget Sanford for a while. This is Tate. In Tate the football players dress at the field house. Remember that." And she skipped back into the living room before he could offer any more objections. Some day, she grimly told herself, she would have to take this dear innocent and really tell him some things.
Against his better judgment, Harold followed Peggy's advice and walked into Tate Field at quarter to two the next afternoon in his street clothes. He stood near the gate alone for ten minutes. Then the illustrious huskies of the Tate squad began to arrive. They had had their orders from Captain Trask about "Speedy" Lamb. They maintained grave faces and nodded to him as to an equal. After a time he summoned up his nerve and followed one of them into the field house. He found the players in various states of nudity, abandoning mufti for the football uniforms they pulled out of their lockers. He was watching them, wondering what his next move would be, when Chester Trask arrived.
"Hello, Lamb," the captain greeted him soberly. "Waiting for a uniform? Mulligan
