A boy further along the row engaged Ned in conversation, and Kendall, leaning back in his seat, studied his new friend. Although Ned was two years Kendall’s senior he was scarcely any taller; there was perhaps the difference of an inch between the two. Ned was fleshy without being fat, carried himself very straight and had a round, good-natured face from which a pair of shrewd brown eyes twinkled. Kendall had already learned that it was only by watching Ned’s eyes that he could tell whether the latter was in earnest or only joking, for Ned could, and did, say the most outlandish things with the face of a truthful undertaker. Ned always looked trim. To-day he wore a suit of blue serge, a soft flannel shirt of gray, a blue knitted silk tie, black socks and rubber-soled tan Oxford shoes. And there was a little gold pin in his tie, a plain seal ring on one finger and from his watch dangled a leather fob with a Yardley seal in silver and enamel. Kendall mentally resolved to have one just like it. He had seen them in a jeweler’s window in Greenburg. And Kendall wondered why Ned’s clothes fitted him so well, and why his lisle socks showed never a hint of a wrinkle over his ankles. Kendall knew that some persons had their clothes made to order by tailors, and came to the conclusion that Ned was one of these fortunate mortals, a conclusion quite erroneous. Ned’s talk with the other boy was all about golf, and much of it Kendall couldn’t understand. When the teams trotted back to the field and Ned settled into his seat again Kendall asked: “Are you at the head of the golf, Tooker?” Ned looked amused. “I’m captain of the Golf Team,” he explained. “We’ve got a five-man match on with Broadwood here next Saturday. That’s what Kirk was talking about. We’ve never won a match from Broadwood yet, although we’ve met them three times.” “Why is that?” Kendall asked. “We haven’t the players they have. As a matter of fact, although it sounds like boasting, Curt, I’m the only member of our team that has a show with those chaps. Kirk isn’t bad, but he’s always unlucky, and he’s been beaten every time. This year he says he’s going to get revenge. He’s been practicing every day except Sundays, I guess, since school opened. Last spring he played a dandy game but drew Frost, who is Broadwood’s best player, and so didn’t have any show from the start. By the way, don’t forget that you’re coming out to learn the game Monday. There goes the ball. Now, Yardley, get down to business.”