"Not _my_ garden! You don't know a tulip from a cauliflower!" "No, I'll have to learn to do something with my head and my hands,--not just my legs! I guess life isn't all football, Skipper." "But I guess it's all a sort of game, Jimsy, and we have to 'play' it! And it wouldn't be playing the game for our people or for ourselves to do something silly and reckless. This thing--caring for each other--is the wisest, biggest thing in our lives, and we've got to keep it that, haven't we?" He nodded solemnly. "That's right, Skipper. We have. I guess we'll just have to grit our teeth and wait--_gee_--three years, anyway, till I'm twenty-one! That's the deuce of a long time, isn't it? Lord, why wasn't I born five years before you? Then it would be O. K. Loads of girls are married at eighteen." "You weren't born five years before me because then it would have spoiled everything," said Honor, securely confident of the eternal rightness of the scheme of things. "You would have been marching around in overalls when I was born, and when I was ten you would have been fifteen, and you wouldn't have _looked_ at me,--and now you'd be through college and engaged to some wonderful Stanford girl! No, it's perfectly all right as it is, Jimsy. Only, we've just got to be sensible." "Well, I'll tell you one thing right now, Skipper, I'm not going to wait five or six years. I'm going to go two years to college, enough to bat a little more knowledge into my poor bean, and then I'm coming out and get a job,--and get you!" He illustrated the final achievement by catching her in his arms again. When she could get her breath Honor said, "But we needn't worry about all of it now, dear. We haven't got to wait the four--or six years--all at once! Just a month, a week, a day at a time. And the time will fly,--you'll see! You'll have to work like a demon----" "And you won't be there to help me!" "And there'll be football all fall and baseball all spring, and theatricals, and we'll write to each other every day, won't we?" "Of course. But I write such bone-headed boob letters, Skipper." "I won't care what they're like, Jimsy, so long as you tell me things." "_Gee_ ... I'm going to be lost up there without you, Skipper." "You'll have Carter, dear." "I know. That'll help a lot. Honestly, I don't know how a fellow with a head like his puts up with me. He forgets more every night when he goes to sleep than I'll ever know. He's a wonder. Yes, it sure--will help a lot to have Carter. But it won't be you." "Jimsy, have you told--your father?" He nodded. "Last night. He was--he's been feeling great these last few days. He was sitting at his desk, looking over some old letters and papers, and I went in and--and told him." "What did he say?"