“Have you arranged any games yet?” asked Tom of Ed one afternoon, following some sharp practice on the diamond.
“We play Boxer Hall next week,” answered the manager. “And I do hope we win. It means so much at the beginning of the season. How is the team, do you think?”
“Do you mean ours or theirs?”
“Ours, of course.”
“Fine, I should say,” replied Tom.
“You know who’ll pitch against you when we play Boxer, I dare say,” remarked Mr. Leighton, who had joined Tom and Ed.
“No. Who?”
“Your old enemy, Langridge. He’s displaced Dave Ogden, who twirled for them last season. But you’re not frightened, are you?”
“Not a bit of it! If there’s anything that will make our fellows play fierce ball it’s to know that Langridge—the fellow who almost threw our football team—is going to play against them. I couldn’t ask a better tonic. Will they play on our grounds?”
“No, we’ve got to go there. But don’t let that worry you.”