“Get ’em over a little better, Bill. That last one was quite a ways out.”
“What’s the matter? Why it went right over the plate!”
Pete who was behind Cap, watching his brother’s curves started, and the oldest Smith lad shook his head. Then Bill knew that the glasses were not the same.
“I guess it’s all up,” he said despondently. “I’m out of it.”
“No!” cried Cap. “We’ll help you!”
“What can you do?” Bill wanted to know. “There’s no use having this oculist try it again.”
“No, but we’ll find Professor Clatter and Tithonus Somnus and get him to make a right pair of glasses. That’s our last chance!”
“And a mighty slim one, too!” murmured Bill, “with the final game only a few days off!”