“A real threat man,” Mr. Henderson said solemnly. “You asked Bert Cramer a while ago what he was going to do when he left Mercyville. I think you might be interested in George’s plans, too.”
“We certainly would,” Eileen said.
“Tell them, George,” Mr. Henderson said proudly.
George hesitated. “I sort of hate to talk about it till I’ve figured out exactly how I’m going to accomplish it. But I love sports. As a tiny child, I didn’t have much time to play games. There wasn’t any place for me, either. In our neighborhood back home, they didn’t like me to join in their organized games, because I am a Negro. I guess they still discriminate. That’s why I want to open a youth center, some day, for kids of all races and creeds.”
Dr. Benson and Eileen nodded soberly.
“That’s a fine objective, George,” Dr. Benson said quietly.
George turned to look at Timmy. “Mr. Henderson, did you know Timmy here has never played baseball? And from the way I saw him run across the yard, I think he’ll make a wonderful base-stealer.”
“You bet he will,” said Dr. Benson as he watched Timmy’s face to see if he could get an inkling as to how Timmy was impressed by what he had seen.
By this time it was obvious that Tommy and Bert Cramer were fast friends. Bert shook his head sadly as Dr. Benson nodded to Eileen and Tommy.
“I sure wish you could stay to supper,” he said. “I could drive you back, Tommy, and I’d kind of like the fellows to meet you.”