“Yes.”
“I’d like to have him with me.”
“How many did he strike out?” asked Mr. Borden quizzically.
“Fifteen.”
“And you think he’d do that for the Tait School nine?”
“I’d like him to have a chance to show what he can do.”
“Walter, if Dan hadn’t struck out fifteen yesterday would you have wanted him to enter the Tait School this year?”
“I don’t know,” replied Walter in some confusion. “Of course, I’d like our nine to have him. But his pitching isn’t all there is to Dan. He’s——”
“I can understand that,” broke in Mr. Borden. “Come, Walter, we mustn’t keep your grandmother’s dinner waiting.” As they at once started toward the farmhouse Walter was eager to ask his father what his decision was, but as Mr. Borden walked thoughtfully along the roadside his boy looked at him keenly and decided to wait before he made any further inquiries. Indeed, Mr. Borden did not again refer to the matter until just before his departure for the city. He had been away from the farmhouse twice, but he had gone by himself each time, and did not refer to what he had been doing.
“Walter,” Mr. Borden said as he was preparing for his departure, “I have decided to let you tell Dan that he can go to the Tait School this coming year.”