For the smaller lads hit Tom rather too frequently, and their fielding was a joy to the heart of their coach and captain. Even Mr. Leighton complimented them on it, and he did not say much to his own men, who, to say the least, were a bit ragged.
“Dodville shouldn’t have gotten more than one run,” declared the coach as the nine was returning, “yet you fellows let them get six.”
“Yes,” added Tom bitterly. “I can see a large, gold-framed picture of us winning that loving cup, when we go up against Boxer Hall and Fairview again.”
“You needn’t talk,” declared Sid, somewhat bitterly. “You issued plenty of walking papers to-day, and they found you several times, in spite of your curves.”
“I didn’t muff a ball, and let a man get away from me on second, though,” retorted Tom.
“Oh, come on, fellows, let’s sing,” proposed Holly Cross, as a way out of the difficulty, and when some of the old college lays had been rendered the team was in better humor.
That evening, when Tom was putting a new toe-plate on his shoe, and Sid was pretending to study in one corner of the room, but scarcely glancing at his book, there came a summons at the door. Sid jumped up at the knock, and there was a look of apprehension on his face, which vanished, however, when Wallops, the messenger, came with word that Phil was wanted on the telephone. The first baseman returned presently, to announce:
“My sister wants to see me, over at Fairview.”
“Anything the matter?” asked Tom quickly, and with suspicious interest.
“No, she has a letter from dad, with something in about vacation plans, and she wants to talk to me about it. I’ll be back soon. Don’t sit up for me—ta-ta,” and Phil was gone.