Obediently, the man rose. Whatever doubts he may have entertained as to her ability to handle the situation at the ball park vanished before the determination expressed by her pursed lips and clenched fists. She was competent, Horace told himself; yes, as competent as any Scout in the Black Eagle Patrol.
With both her father and Horace Hibbs gone, Molly realized that she was now the single Lakeville representative in all that crowd. The thought sent little prickles down her rigid back, and she caught herself plucking nervously at her skirt. The discovery wounded her pride.
"Now, Molly Sefton," she admonished herself severely, clasping the errant hands in her lap, "don't be a good-for-nothing, sniveling little coward!"
More time passed. More fans stamped their feet and yelled, "Play ball!" The important person who was going to have the umpire forfeit the game strutted to the bottom of the rows of seats. There, watch in hand, he looked up near-sightedly, without discovering that two thirds of his former audience had disappeared, and said, in a voice like fate, "Five minutes more, gentlemen; five minutes!"
Molly was having a good deal of trouble keeping herself in leash. She wavered between a desire to shriek at the top of her voice and another to get out the little lace-fringed handkerchief Aunt Ella had given her, and have a good cry. It took courage to fight back both temptations. Instead, she plucked at the sleeve of the high-school boy at her side.
"Will you do me a favor, please?"
The high-school boy would.
"Run down there to the diamond, then," Molly commanded, "and ask the captain of the Belden team to come here a minute, please!"
She liked the boy in uniform who responded to her call. He had round blue eyes, lots of freckles, and a smile that came without coaxing. It was easy to tell him the troubles Lakeville's team was encountering.