"What did you do with the greens?"
"Give 'em to Annie."
"Stucky, you're a brick church!"
"Where's Biscuit?" asked Gizzard who at that moment came panting up.
"Down cellar sproutin' p'tates," replied Sube. "But I had him leave the new ball outside. I was afraid he'd get it dirty."
"Wisht he'd hurry up," said Stucky. "We wanta get to playin'. Don't you s'pose he's done?"
"Oh, I wouldn't want to bother him right in the middle of a bushel," Sube remonstrated. "Let's have a little three-hander while we're waitin'. I'll stand the two of you."
The little three-hander had become almost a set, and, strange to say, Biscuit had been entirely forgotten when his mother, accompanied by a slight, sallow gentleman in a black suit, drew up by the side of the street in a surrey from the livery.
"Boys!" she called.
The game stopped. There was momentary confusion among the players. Sube slipped the new ball into his pocket and carelessly kicked his sweater over a pair of shoes and stockings lying beside the court, before he appeared to be able to locate the speaker. When at last his eyes encountered Mrs. Westfall's, he snatched off his cap with elaborate gusto and sang out politely: