“I’m willing,” replied Tom, “only——” He glanced at the clothes he was wearing.
“Never mind about what you have on,” said Mr. Talbot. “You needn’t bat, and I guess if you take your coat and waistcoat off you’ll get along all right. They’re calling you, Morris. You’re up.” And as Sidney hurried across to the plate Mr. Talbot went on: “I hope you will succeed with your partner, Mr. Cummings, for we certainly need this chap out here with us. In any case, I’m very much obliged to you for your willingness to help us. Wouldn’t you like to look on from the bench?”
Mr. Cummings arose with alacrity and, followed by Tom, accompanied the coach across to the other side of the diamond, where a place was found for him on the players’ bench. Buster Healey winked gravely at Tom.
“Get on to Bat being sweet to old Cummings,” he whispered to Bert Meyers, who was seated beside him. “He’s after Pollock I’ll bet a dollar. Bet you he gets him, too!”
Mr. Cummings was introduced to Captain Warner and one or two of the other boys and was quite in his element. Pete Farrar, farther along the bench, viewed Tom’s appearance with suspicion. Young Smith, bat in hand, waiting for Sidney to retire from the plate, turned his head toward the bench and whispered hoarsely:
“Pete!”
“Huh?” grunted Pete Farrar.
“Good-bye,” said Smithie softly.
Pete only grunted again.