"Don't worry about me," the red-haired boy answered shortly. "I'll be
there." He arose, went around to the other side of the table and stooped
to pick a paper ball from the floor.

A soft smile touched Andy's mouth.

"Aw! what are you laughing at?" Tim cried.

"I'm not laughing, Tim," Andy protested. "Honest."

But, for all that, Tim was furious when he left the meeting. The others
stood on the porch and chatted a moment; he strode out the gate and down
the dark road.

"Gee!" he said in disgust. "They'll think I'm a little Janie."

Letting a girl make him do things! It stung his pride. Friday night he
had said no, and had changed his mind and had scrubbed with the others.
Tonight he had grinned when told about papers on the floor--and had ended
by picking them up.

Everything had gone wrong, Tim told himself, since Don had become patrol
leader. He began to blame Don for all his troubles. Don had upbraided him
when the patrol had lost points. It was at Don's house that Barbara had
made him pick up papers. His cheeks burned.

"I'll show them!" he vowed wrathfully. He would redeem himself in the
only way he knew. He would "start something."

He started it by picking at Don all during next day's practice.