“Yes.”
“I’ll be over on time.”
“Good night.”
“Good night, Dan,” responded Walter as he entered the house.
Long before the time of the game on the following day Walter was on the field. Dressed in the uniform of his school nine, he was aware of the contrast between his neat, well-fitting suit and the quaint uniforms of the players who were on the ground. A smile of satisfaction and a slight deepening of his condescending manner were perhaps not unnatural in view of the appearance of the two nines. On each there were two or three who had no uniforms at all.
“Goin’ to play with our nine?”
Walter turned as the question was asked, and found himself face to face with Si Slater, the village harness-maker. Si’s round face was glowing with interest and his fat body was perspiring in spite of his continued fanning with his straw hat of broad brim.
“Yes, I thought I would help the fellows out,” replied Walter, with a laugh.
“All right. Ye’ll have t’ go some t’ keep up with Dan an’ Tom Richards. They’re the best ball players in the whole county.”