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Updated: May 10, 2025
Henry Rooter had likewise ruined himself in a coincidental manner: "Well Patty my eyes are pretty but suppose I would like to trade with yours because you have beautiful eyes also, sure as my name is Henry Rooter." Florence stood close to the pink-shaded electric drop-light over her small white dressing-table, reading again and again these pathetically honest little confidences.
"That's the way I look at it," Henry agreed. "What's the use? If I was in your place, I'd act just the same way you do." "Well," said Herbert, "I guess I better go on in the house, Henry. It's a good while after dark." "You're makin' a big mistake!" Henry Rooter called after him. "You won't see any apple dumplings, I bet a hunderd dollars! You better come on home with me."
Altogether, if Florence was not in a fair way to become a poetic celebrity it was not her own fault but entirely that of The North End Daily Oriole, which was to make its appearance on Saturday, but failed to do so on account of too much enthusiasm on the part of Atwater & Rooter in manipulating the printing-press.
Strange things were always happening to him. "I've never seen a game," said the professor. "I used to play myself long ago, when we had a yarn ball and pitched underhand. I'll have to come out to the field some day. President Halstead, why, he likes baseball, he's a a what do you call it?" "A fan a rooter?" replied Ken, smiling. "Um-m. I guess that's it. Well, Mr. Ward, I'm glad to meet you.
Florence was herself anxious for the newspaper's début, and she made her anxiety so clear to Atwater & Rooter, Owners & Propreitors, every afternoon after school, during the following week, that by Thursday further argument and repartee on their part were felt to be indeed futile; and in order to have a little peace around there, they carried her downstairs.
As he crouched behind a rock he heard a yell from Hopalong, and saw that interested individual waving his sombrero to cheer him on. An angry pang! from the knoll caused that enthusiastic rooter to drop for safety. "Locoed son-of-a-gun," complained Pete. "He'll shore git potted." Then he glanced at Billy, who was the center of several successive spurts of dust.
"That little Henry Rooter is the worst falsehooder in this town; and I never believed a word he said in his life! Anyway, what affairs is it of yours, I'd like you to please be so kind and obliging for to tell me, Mister Herbert Illingsworth Atwater, Exquire!" "What affairs?" Herbert echoed in plaintive satire. "What affairs is it of mine? That's just the trouble!
"I'm due to be only a rooter today," sigh Greg, as he saw his roommate start off to the gym to meet the other members of the nine. "Your luck may change," rejoined Dick. "You'd better go along to the gym. You're the sub. shortstop, you know, and Meacham may not be on deck. Better come along, now." "I will, then; I wasn't going over until just before time to get into togs and sit on the bench."
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