With Mask and Mitt

by Albertus T. Dudley

"Well, anything you like," said Duncan, smiling. "Did you say you had the right time?"

"No, I haven't; my time is always wrong."

"Thanks," returned Duncan; "then we won't trouble you any longer. Come on, Don, let's try Owen."

The brothers turned to go. "The next time you come you'd better knock first," shouted Payner. "It'll save your nerves!"

"We'll try to remember," said Donald, who had regained his composure. It was his only part in the interview.

The brothers crept back to their room and there chuckled mightily over their escape. Payner listened to see whether they really did visit Owen, and then locking his door carefully, walked over to the laboratory, far more disturbed by the problem of the Pecks' presence in his room than by any difficulty which an experiment in physics might offer. And Payner did not shine in physics.

After this Payner's door was always locked, and, mischievous as the twins were, they had no heart for breaking and entering. Weeks flew by; Christmas came, bringing the long recess. Owen and Carle both returned to Terryville for the holidays, the latter especially elated. He had got his scholarship. His work in the classroom had flagged a little toward the end of the term, as the seductive influence of popularity made itself felt, but his honest efforts in the first two months had given him a good margin, as well as impressed his teachers. He knew a lot of fellows, was already patronized by a certain conspicuous set, and enjoyed, as far as it was possible to anticipate the credit of great deeds as yet unperformed, the glory of being the master pitcher who was to win the Hillbury game. It was possible, of course, that these anticipations might prove unwarranted; that Carle's glory, like the great Kuropatkin's military reputation before the battles of Laioyang and Mukden, might not survive the actual test. But at least he had every prospect of being the school pitcher, and this was in itself a definite honor.

Owen had not fared as well. He had worked faithfully, had won fair rank, had made a few good friends; his teachers spoke of him as steady but slow. He had developed no striking qualities to impress his boy acquaintances; he was not witty like Rogers, nor literary like Ware, nor a wonderful scholar like Salter, nor a football hero like Laughlin or Lindsay, nor a track athlete with a record like Strong, nor a musician like Truslow, nor clever with a pencil like Fox, nor a ladies' man like Richmond, nor even a jolly idiot like Kleinschmidt. To be a candidate for the nine, with the possibility of becoming substitute catcher if luck served, was not in itself and at this early day a sufficient ground for distinction. So Rob had few successes to report to his family on his return. Mr. Owen was satisfied that the boy had honestly endeavored to do his duty in school, and follow the principles laid down in the parental code. In the father's eyes the discouraging outlook for baseball was rather a cause for congratulation. Mrs. Owen was wholly pleased to have her son at home again, and to find him a little bigger and a little stronger and a little more manly than before, but just as fond of his home as ever, and just as interested in all that concerned it. Except for two things, Rob himself was completely happy. One was the disappointment about baseball, which he could not forget; the other, the constant reminder of his inferiority to Carle. When Carle confessed on the train, with a certain imposing air of one whose honors were burdensome, that he had been asked to join the Omega-Omicron fraternity, Rob was smitten hard with jealousy, but he threw off this feeling in an instant and spoke eagerly.

"That's an honor, isn't it! Are you going to join?"