“I’ll toss it to you if you’ll toss it back again,” said Tom. “We’ll have a social game of three.”
“No, we won’t. Clear out of this field, you vagabond!”
“You’re very polite, but you haven’t got my name right, you loafer,” said Tom coolly.
“Loafer!” ejaculated James, with insulted dignity.
“Yes, you’re just as much of a loafer as I am a vagabond. Good ball this!” and he kept tossing it up and down.
“Help me, Edwin, and I’ll take it from him,” said James Davenport, in a rage. “Well teach the rascal a lesson.”
“Will you?” said Tom. “Catch me first.”
He run across the field, tossing the ball from time to time, the two boys pursuing him. He eluded their pursuit for a time, till finding himself cornered he gathered his strength and sent the ball whirling into a neighboring corn-field, where it would be very difficult to find it.
“What did you do that for?” shouted James furiously.
“For fun,” said Tom. “You wouldn’t play with me, so you must take the consequences.”