“But——”began Roy again.
“That's all right, old fellow. We know your modesty, and all that. We're also under the impression that you have recently developed a remarkable penchant—that's the word, isn't it, boys—for practical jokes. But this time be so condescending as to remember that joke-day—April 1, you know—is a long way off. See?”
“Yes, I see,” replied Henning, “but you fellows will not, nor will you listen to reason. So it is useless for me to talk.”
“That's precisely what we wish to do,” said Jack—laughing Jack Beecham—who struck an attitude and continued, “but you persist in talking anything but reason. What an incontestably preposterous thing for you to say that you are not going to play ball. Is a fish going to swim?"
“Nonsense or not, boys, I have good reason for saying what I have said. It's a fact. I am not going to play.”
Roy Henning's clean-cut, handsome face was flushed at the moment with vexation. His eyes showed his annoyance, and his brows contracted in displeasure. It was vexatious enough for him to make—to be compelled to make—such an announcement to his friends, but his chagrin was
rendered four-fold by having his companions receive his statement with incredulity. Not the least part of his annoyance came from the fact that his own particular friend should affect to believe that he was perpetrating a practical joke, especially as he was very much in earnest and the announcement had cost him much effort to make.
When Roy Henning first came to St. Cuthbert's, he was a narrow-chested, weakly boy of very quiet manners and of a retiring disposition, as the readers of the chronicles of St. Cuthbert boys may remember.
Month after month, however, saw him growing stronger and taller and more robust, until now, in his last year at college, he was one of the biggest boys in the yard, with the strength of a giant, and, as some who knew declared, the grip of a blacksmith. The opportunities of acquiring brawn and muscle he had not neglected, resulting in a proficiency in running, jumping, swimming, and boating, and in all the manly and invigorating exercises of school life.
He was well aware how much the success of next summer's baseball season really depended on him. He knew, also, what the boys expected of him. They all regarded it as a foregone conclusion that he would again be the captain and the principal pitcher on next season's team.