“Oh, that’s just your idea of him, June,” was the good-natured reply. “We get dozens like him every spring, fellows fresh from high school or college who think that if they can hold a ball when it’s thrown to them they’re regular Big Leaguers.”
“How come this yere Mr. Farrel done send him over here, sir?”
“Oh, Farrel plays it safe, June. He has instructions to pick up anything that looks good and ship him over for me to see. But he isn’t supposed to rob the nurseries. We can’t use them until they’re grown up.”
“Well, sir, seems like this yere Mister Farrel ain’ actin’ jus’ right. He done tell Mas’ Wayne how you goin’ give him a try-out an’ all, an’ Mas’ Wayne he give up his position in Medfield an’ now ain’ nothin’ ’tall come of it. It don’ seem jus’ right, sir, does it? Mas’ Wayne he ’lows we’s goin’ stay right here till he gets that yere try-out, yes, sir, but we ain’ got but about fifty dollars an’ that ain’ goin’ to last forever, is it? Please, sir, Mister Milburn, I wish you’d jus’ give him that ol’ try-out, sir, an’ then, if he don’ act good, we knows where we’re at! Couldn’ you jus’ do that, please, sir?”
The manager frowned impatiently, slapped the scrapbook shut, opened it again, and once more looked at his watch. June observed him anxiously but continued to smile. Perhaps it was that smile that decided the question, for Mr. Milburn saw it and the corners of his own mouth began to go up, and presently he laughed.
“All right, June,” he said. “He shall have his try-out. Maybe tomorrow. By the first of the week, anyway. You can tell him so. And you can tell him he owes it to you. Mostly, at any rate.” The manager arose. “Maybe I’d have given it to him anyhow sooner or later, just to get rid of him!” he added grumblingly. He turned with pretended ferocity on June. “You got that dime, didn’t you?” he demanded.
“Yes, sir, thanky, sir.”
“Well, what are you waiting for then? Beat it! Get out of here before you think up any more hard-luck stories! Here, give me that pass!”
June yielded it and the manager tore it in half and dropped the pieces on the floor. “Tell Sloan I said he was to go in the players’ gate. I guess he’s earned the right to see one game. Now get out of here, you black nuisance!”
“Yes, sir,” replied June, grinning from ear to ear. “Thanky, sir. Hope you wins your game, sir.”