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Rh Way scowled fearsomely. "If in my capacity of manager of this team," he resumed with dignity, "I'm required to go on any more idiotic errands like that I'm going to resign. I may be crazy and foolish, but I hate to have folks mention it."

"We're all touchy on our weak points," said Lanny kindly. "Well, I suppose you did the best you could, Way, but I'm blessed if I see how it would hurt them to let us use their old road roller."

"He also dropped some careless remark about the expense of running it," observed Way, "from which I gathered that, even if he did let us take it, he meant to sock us about fifteen dollars a day!"

"Who is he?" Dick asked.

"He's Chairman or something of the Street Department."

"Superintendent of Streets," corrected Way. "I saw it on the door."

"I mean," explained Dick, "what's his name?"

"Oh, Burns. He's Ned Burns' father."

"Uncle," corrected Way.

"Could Burns have done anything with him, do you suppose?" Dick asked thoughtfully.

"I don't believe so. The man is deficient in public spirit and lacking in—in charitable impulse, or something." Lanny frowned intently at Way until the latter said: