The Lucky Seventh Part 39

"Even you and Morris' father seem to be getting quite chummy," pursued Gordon, "while as for Mrs. Brent, why, she's absolutely spoony about you!"

"Go ahead and enjoy yourself," said d.i.c.k. "I don't mind your ravings.

Looks as though they were getting ready to close the hotel, doesn't it?"

he added, as they took the corner cautiously and turned into the sh.o.r.e road.

"I should think they would. About everyone has gone. Did I tell you what Caspar Billings said at the station the other day?"

 

"I don't think so. What was it?"

"He said he was going to send circulars of the hotel to all the prep schools next Spring, so he could get up a nine that would beat us next summer and get that pennant back!"

"L-l-let him!" sputtered Fudge. "We'll be ready for them!"

"Yes, indeed, for we'll have Mr. Harold Townsend playing for us," said Gordon. "By the way, d.i.c.k, we'd better put him in center field, don't you think?"

"Certainly."

"That's all r-r-right!" exploded Fudge. "P-p-put him there! I'm going to p-p-p-play in the infield next s-s-s-summer! I'm g-g-going--"

But Fudge's remarks were drowned by the sudden croaking of the horn as the blue runabout approached the Brents' cottage.

"There's Morris on the porch," said d.i.c.k, adding another dismal warning.

"Yes, and-am I mistaken, or is that-- My sight isn't what it used to be, Fudge. Look and tell me if that is Louise on the steps."

"Dry up!" muttered d.i.c.k, turning the car toward the curb and throwing out the clutch.

Morris and Louise came down the walk. "Some driving, that, d.i.c.k," Morris applauded.

"Oh, I told him what to do!" said Gordon modestly.

"Good morning, Mister Manager," greeted Louise. "Good morning, Mister Captain. Good morning, Mister--" She paused, at a loss.

"Mister Historian," supplied Gordon. "Fudge is writing a beautiful story about the game, aren't you, Fudge? He's going to call it--"

"C-c-cut it out!" growled Fudge.

"Please tell me, Fudge," begged Louise. "What _are_ you going to call it?"

Fudge scowled, grinned, and relented.

"I'm g-g-going to c-c-c-call it," he said, "'The Lucky Seventh.'"

THE END