“There’s the master,” called out one of the players.
“Give me another ball,” said the boy at the bat. “The bell won’t ring just yet.”
So the game continued.
Among those who were watching the game, Walter noticed John Wall. John was more carefully dressed than any of the other boys, many of whom had taken off their coats, and were playing in their shirt sleeves.
“That is John Wall, isn’t it?” asked Walter. “Does he play ball?”
“Not often. He isn’t much of a player. Besides, he doesn’t like to run the risk of soiling his clothes. He is something of a dandy.”
“So I should think. He wore kid gloves the other day in the rain.”
“He is partial to kid gloves. He thinks they distinguish him as the son of a gentleman from his more plebeian companions. But come in, Mr. Howard.”
Walter followed the teacher into the schoolroom. It was about forty feet by fifty in size, and well supplied with desks. The girls sat upon one side, the boys on the other. Some were already in their seats, while others were grouped near the teacher’s desk. They separated on the entrance of Allen Barclay, and repaired to their seats, not without curious glances at Walter.
There was a larger desk for the teacher, with a chair drawn up behind it. There was another chair in the room, which the teacher drew up near his own.