“Now for a practice game,” proposed Tom. “I want to see if I have any of my curves left.”
Two scrub nines were soon picked out, and a game was gotten under way. It was “ragged and sloppy” as Holly Cross said, but it served to warm up the lads, and to bring out strong and weak points, which was the object sought.
The team, of which Tom was just then the temporary captain, won by a small margin, and then followed some coaching instructions from Mr. Leighton.
“That will do for to-day,” he said. “Be at it again to-morrow, and we’ll soon be in shape.”
The players and their admirers—lads who had not made the team—strolled off the diamond. Tom, walking along with Phil and Sid, suddenly put his hand in his pocket.
“Just my luck!” he exclaimed.
“What’s the matter?” asked Phil.
“I’m broke,” was the answer, “and I want to get a new shirt. Phil, lend me a couple of dollars. I’ll get my check from dad to-morrow.”
“I’m in the same boat, old man,” was the rueful reply. “Tackle Sid here, I saw him with a bunch of money yesterday. He can’t have spent it all since, for he isn’t in love.”