He batted once more, but a third “out” on the bases saved him from the fluke which, he had been certain, must inevitably follow. As he stood with the ball in his hand, facing the batter, he was conscious of an air of uncertainty spreading like a contagion through the Ellerton team; he recognized that it radiated from himself—his lack of confidence magnified to a promised panic. The centre fielder fumbled a fly directly in his hands; there was a shout from Ellerton's opponents, silence in the ranks of Ellerton.
Anthony pitched with a tremendous effort, his arm felt brittle; it felt as though it was made of glass, and would break off. He could put no speed into the ball, his fingers seemed swollen, he was unable to grip it properly, control its direction. The red-haired player whom he had despised faced him, he who habitually flinched, and Anthony essayed to drive the ball across his fingers. The bat swung with a vicious crack upon the leather sphere, a fielder ran vainly back, back....
The runner passed first base, and, wildly urged by a small but adequately vocal group of wellwishers, scorned second base, repudiated third, from which another player tallied a run, and loafed magnificently “home.”
From the fence some one called to Anthony, “what time is it?” and achieved a huge success among the opposition. His captain besought him desperately to “come back. Where's your pep' went? you're pitching like a dead man!” Confusion fell upon the team in the field, and, in its train, a series of blunders which cost five runs. After the inning Anthony stood with a lowered, moody countenance. “You're out of this game,” the captain shot at him; “go home and play with mother and the girls.”
He left the field under a dropping fire of witticisms, feebly stemmed by half-hearted applause; Hinkle frowned heavily at him; the man from the major league had gone. Anthony proceeded directly through the gate and over the street toward home. The taste of profound Humiliation, of failure, was bitter in his mouth, that failure which seemed to lie at the heart of everything he attempted, which seemed to follow him like his shadow, like the malicious influence of a powerful spite, an enmity personal and unrelenting. The sun centred its heat upon his bared head with an especial fervor; the watch, thrust hastily in a pocket, swung against his leg mockingly; the abrupt departure of that keeneyed spectator added its hurt to his self pride.
VIII
HE maintained a surly silence throughout dinner; but later, on discovering a dress shirt laid in readiness on his bed, and recalling the purport of Mrs. James Dreen's call, he announced on the crest of an overwhelming exasperation that he would go to no condemmed dance. “Ellie can't go alone,” his mother told him from the landing below; “and do hurry, Tony, she's almost dressed.” The flaring gas jet seemed to coat his room with a heavy yellow dust; the night came in at the window as thickly purple as though it had been paint squeezed from a tube. He slowly assembled his formal clothes. An extended search failed to reveal the whereabouts of his studs, and he pressed into service the bone buttons inserted by the laundry. The shirt was intolerably hot and uncomfortable, his trousers tight, a white waistcoat badly shrunken; but a collar with a frayed and iron-like edge the crowning misery. When, finally, he was garbed, he felt as though he had been compressed into an iron boiler; a stream of perspiration coursed down the exact middle of his back; his tie hung in a limp knot. Fiery epithets escaped at frequent intervals.
On the contrary, Ellie was delightfully cool, orderly; she waved a lacy fan in her long, delicate fingers. The public vehicle engaged to convey them to the Dreens, a mile or more beyond the town, drew up at the door with a clatter of hoofs. It was an aged hack, with complaining joints, and a loose iron tire. A musty smell rose from the threadbare cushions, the rotting leather. The horse's hoofs were now muffled in the dusty country road; shadowy hedges were passed, dim, white farmhouses with orange, lighted windows, the horizon outspread in a shimmering blue circle under the swimming stars.