Dick talked it over with Louise Brent one morning. Dick had got into the habit lately of walking over to the Brents’ in the morning before going out to the Point. Brentwood was hardly on his direct line to the car, although it is true that by retracing his steps two blocks he could get the trolley at B Street and consequently went only seven blocks out of his way. But seven blocks, when you have to do it on crutches, is quite a distance, and doubtless Morris was much flattered by the interest in his recovery which led Dick so far afield four or five mornings a week. Dick began by taking books to Morris, but his library was soon exhausted, and after that he continued to call just the same. Of course he always saw Morris, and equally of course Louise appeared at some period of his visit. I think that eventually Morris began to have doubts as to being the chief attraction. At all events he very frequently left Dick for his sister to entertain and it wasn’t apparent that Dick mourned his absence. Louise was good to look at and jolly and sympathetic, and there was no reason why Dick should not have been quite satisfied with her company. On the morning in question, the morning of the Wednesday following the Springdale game, Morris had, after offering to race Dick on crutches to the gate and back and having his proposition declined, wandered away toward the tennis court, leaving Dick and Louise on the front steps, which, at nine o’clock in the morning, were shaded and cool. Dick had brought up the subject of the athletic field and both Morris and Louise had had their say. Morris, who was an ardent football enthusiast and played a good game on the High School team, had bewailed the fact that, with practice commencing in another three weeks or so, no place had been provided for it. Louise had reminded him gently that the doctor held out slight hope of his being able to play this Fall and Morris had briefly and succinctly informed them that the doctor was an old granny and didn’t know what he was talking about. When he had gone Louise said: “You know, Dick, both Morris and I begged papa not to take the field, but he wouldn’t listen to us. He said the school could find another place to play on without trouble. He seems to think that all we need is a back yard or a vacant lot! I don’t think papa ever saw a game of baseball or football in his life.” “It is too bad that he has to cut that field up,” replied Dick, “but I don’t see any reason why he should consider us any. He’s been very good to let us use it so long. And he’s never charged us a penny, you know.” “May Scott told me yesterday that her father had told her that the field might not be cut up after all. It seems that the mayor or whoever it is that has the say about such things doesn’t want papa to put the street through there unless he builds it up to some grade or other. I don’t understand about it. And papa doesn’t want to do that.”