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“Another big day for you, Chub,” said Roy. Chub stretched himself luxuriously and yawned.

“Yes. There have been quite a few ‘big days,’ Roy, since we met at school, haven’t there? There was the day when you lammed out that home run and won us the game from Hammond, two years ago. That was one of your ‘big days,’ old chap, but it was mine, too. Then, last year, when we won on the track. That was Dick’s ‘big day,’ but we all shared in it, especially since it brought that check from Kearney and brought the affairs of the Ferry Hill School Improvement Society to a glorious close. And then there was the baseball game last year—”

“That was your day, Chub, and none other’s.”

“Well, if I recollect rightly, there was a little old two-bagger by one Roy Porter which had something to do with the result,” returned Chub, dryly.

“Oh, we’d have won without that. Say, do you remember Harry after the game?”

“Do I! Shall I ever forget her? She was just about half crazy, wasn’t she? And wouldn’t she have loved to have been here to-day?”