of Fletchers," he grinned. "Catch,
son."

A few minutes later John disappeared in the direction of a little
stationery and toy shop which lay some blocks to the north. But not a
word could Mr. Fletcher draw from him as to the aim of the expedition.
He returned with a mysterious package which he took up to his room and
then sauntered out to Silvey's house.

A little later his mother, who had gone upstairs to dress herself for
dinner, came down to the dining-room where John, senior, still sat
reading.

"John," she said.

"Yes, dear?" with a hasty glance away from the news sheet.

"Do you know," her smile was tender, "there's a big, china pig bank up
on that boy's bureau? I believe he's taken your words in earnest!"

CHAPTER VIII

WHEREIN HE RESOLVES TO GET MARRIED

The Thursday date for the game with the "Jeffersons" had been selected
in early September, and there had been a tacit truce between the two
factions as a result. For three afternoons of that first week in
November, the "Tigers" sacrificed their games of tops and "Run, sheep,
run" on the altar of the football god, and trooped over to the big lot
as soon as school was dismissed. There, Silvey, self-appointed coach of
the team, expounded the rudiments and the higher attributes of the sport
as culled from a series of ten-cent hand books, and ran the team through
signals and trick formations in a way that would have amused a
university football coach.

Louise went down town with her mother, so the team was deprived of the
support of its feminine rooter on the eventful afternoon. They met in
front of Silvey's. John boasted the one addition made to the equipment
of that first practice when he appeared with a second-hand pair of
shin-guards which he had acquired from a boy at school in exchange for a
dime and an agate shooter. Presently Sid appeared with the football, and
they trooped towards the lot in a compact, determined little group.

As they climbed over the railroad fence on the opposite side of the
tracks, the "Jeffersons," who were as badly equipped as their rivals,
greeted them defiantly. There was a moment or so of conference between
Silvey and the Shultz boy before they tossed for sides on the field.
Then the teams lined up, kicked off, and sweated and toiled and wrangled
through one half of the game without result. Towards the end of the
second period, the heavier invaders began a slow march over the
cinder-strewn ground toward their