The boys had a lively impromptu contest on the diamond when school closed that afternoon, and Jack proved himself an efficient player at shortstop. It was getting dusk when he reached the professor’s house, and the doughty old college instructor was waiting for him.
“Did I not tell you to come home early, in order that I might test you in algebra?” he asked Jack.
“Yes, sir. But I forgot about it,” which was the truth for, in the excitement over the game, Jack had no mind for anything but baseball.
“Where were you?” went on Mr. Klopper.
“Playing ball.”
“Playing ball! An idle, frivolous amusement. It tends to no good, and does positive harm. I have no sympathy with that game. It gives no time for reflection. I once watched a game at the college where I used to teach. I saw several men standing at quite some distance from the bare spot where one man was throwing a ball at another, with a stick in his hand.”
“That was the diamond,” volunteered Jack, hoping the professor might get interested in hearing about the game, and so forego the lecture that was in prospect.
“Ah, a very inappropriate name. Such an utterly valueless game should not be designated by any such expensive stone as a diamond. But what I was going to say was that I saw some of the players standing quite some distance from the bare spot——”
“They were in the outfield, professor. Right field, left field and centre.”
“One moment; I care nothing about the names of the contestants. I was about to remark that those distant players seemed to have little to do with the game. They might, most profitably have had a book with them, to study while they were standing there, but they did not. Instead they remained idle—wasting their time.”