I saw Fred glance at his sisters, and all three at
their mother, who looked anxious in her desire not to seem to take
sides against me, though manifestly sympathizing with them. I said to
myself that if foot-ball was the greatest game of the day, I was not
going to put my foot down and prevent my boys from playing it merely
because I was old fogy enough not to understand that it was the
greatest game of the day, and Horace Plympton had written a letter to
the _Evening Times_. Accordingly, when the time came for Fred to go to
college I merely cautioned him generally against wasting his time, and
uttered no fulminations against foot-ball in particular.
"On the University foot-ball eleven?" I echoed, taking the newspaper
from my wife, and as I read I felt a little lump of emotional pride
rise in my throat. There it was, sure enough, in black and white,
though I could not help wondering why the fact was of importance enough
to be chronicled in the daily press along with the telegraphic news,
and the deaths and marriages. It was evidently a matter of
considerable moment, though I could not quite see why.
"He will be perfectly delighted," said Josephine. "He has been
extremely doubtful whether he would be chosen. Oh, Fred," she
exclaimed, in a tone of solicitude, "do you really think it's safe?"
How exactly that was like a woman.
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