“Well, what’s your idea?” asked Mr. Cummings.
“How about three afternoons a week during May and then, say, two after that? I wouldn’t ask Pollock to pitch more than once a week, but I’d like to have him come out and get used to the team and let the team get used to him. By the first of June I guess, if he practised once a week, it would be enough to keep him steady.”
“I’m willing,” replied Tom’s employer, “and I’ll talk it over with my partner. If I can make him agree, it’ll be all right. And—oh, well, I’ll pretty near guarantee to talk Horace around! Anyway, we’ll settle it in a day or two. But, say, I’m taking your word for all this. How do I know he can really pitch? You ever seen him?”
Mr. Talbot laughed and shook his head. “As a matter of fact, Mr. Cummings, I never have! I’m taking the boys’ word for it. Morris here says he can. Healey says so. And Hughes and two or three others.”
“That’s all right,” returned Mr. Cummings gravely, thrusting his hands in his pockets and looking stubborn. “But I’m from Missouri. You’ll have to show me!”
Sidney laughed. “What Mr. Cummings wants, I guess, is to have Tom pitch now.”
“Want to try it?” asked Mr. Talbot of Tom.
“If you want me to, sir.”
“Well,” the coach hesitated, “it’s sort of short notice, I suppose, but maybe we’d better convince Mr. Cummings, Pollock. We want him to help us, you see. How would it do if you pitched for the scrubs the next inning or two?”