which, at any other time would not have gone unchecked and unpunished. But Mr. Shalford knew exactly “how it was.”He had been a real boy himself once, and knew exactly when not to see too much. He believed in the scriptural motto, “Be not over just.”
And after dinner! What a scene the yard presented for a few minutes! The delighted boys shook Roy's hand until his arm fairly ached. His arm ached because he allowed it to be shaken by others, instead of himself shaking every hand extended. In this business he was unexperienced.
In the midst of the enthusiasm, which resembled that which follows an important and successful baseball game, only more intense, Harry Gill jumped upon a long bench by the wall and shouted:
“Listen, gentlemen. I have good news for you. Hi, there! listen. Listen there, boys, listen, listen! Roy Henning has promised to pitch for the rest of the year! Did—you—hear that—boys?”
Roy suddenly remembered that he had intended to give Gill the credit for this. He jumped on the bench in a second. Raising his hand, the hero of the hour obtained silence in a much shorter time than Gill had done.
“If I pitch for the rest of the year,” he said, “it is all Gill's fault. I simply could not resist his importunities. Oh, he's a sly one,”
“It isn't,” said Gill laughing.
“It is.”
“It is not.”
“It is.”