“Well, you made a good start. Do you like the work, June?”
“Yes, sir, it’s a right promisin’ place. Lot’s o’ free-spendin’ gen’lemen at that yere hotel. Reckon I’m goin’ do better’n I did at the Union. I gets four dollars a week. They works you longer, though, ’cause I got to get there at six in the mornin’ an’ I don’ get through till six in the evenin’.”
“Why, that’s twelve hours, June!”
“Yes, sir, but the more I’m aroun’ there the more I’m goin’ to put in my jeans. I made a dollar an’ ten cents today, Mas’ Wayne; an’ I’d a done better’n that if them other boys hadn’ tried to friz me out. There’s four of them, an’ one’s a big yaller boy with a mean disposition. I reckon,” June added thoughtfully, “I’ll jus’ have to lam him good before he quits foolin’ with me!”
“You’d better not,” cautioned Wayne. “This isn’t Medfield, and they might fire you if they found you fighting.”
“They ain’ goin’ to fin’ me. I’m goin’ do it where they won’ know nothin’ about it. How come them other gen’lemen pesker us like they done today, Mas’ Wayne?”
“What other gentlemen? Oh, you mean the Damascus club. We just couldn’t hit them any more than they could hit us, June. You see Mr. Milburn pitched Nick Crane and so the Damascus manager put in Woodworth, their best man, and it was a pitchers’ battle right through the whole eleven innings. If Bennett hadn’t stolen home from third with two out in the eleventh I reckon they’d be playing yet. I’d like to have seen that steal. It must have been a dandy!”
“Sure must! That gives us three games to their two, don’ it? Reckon we’ll win the one tomorrow, Mas’ Wayne?”
“I don’t know. I heard that they’re going to use a fellow named Ripley, and they say he’s almost as good as Woodworth. He’s a spit-ball pitcher.”