Harold began to feel more cheerful. Here was a fellow to whom he could tell about college. Compared with Hagner, Harold was an old timer, and he began to feel good. Hagner kept on taking things out of his trunk. He was having a hard time, getting something out that seemed to be laid in crosswise between the clothes. Harold looked, and [just then out it came, and there stood Hagner with an old baseball bat in his hand]. He reached in with his left and pulled out an old fielder’s mitt, which had a big hole right through the middle.
[“Just then out it came and there stood Hagner with an old baseball bat in his hand.”]
Harold’s eyes bulged. “Do you play ball?” he asked.
“A little,” said the other; “used to play around the back lots down home. Had to play hookey from Sunday school to get a chance. Had to work week days after school. You play?”
“Some,” said Harold.
“What position?”
“Pitcher,” said Harold, falling into the other’s way of talking. “What’s your place?”
“Short,” said Hagner.