“No, I don’t,” and Mr. Lighton spoke quietly. “That was not my intention—just yet. Parsons will remain on the scrub then, at least for the present. Later I may—er—I may make a point of it,” and he turned and walked away.
[CHAPTER XV]
A SOPHOMORE TRICK
While knowing nothing of the efforts Coach Lighton was making in his behalf, Tom continued hard practice at his pitching. Every day he made some improvement until his friends on the scrub regarded him as a marvel. But, as if some mysterious whisper had come to Langridge, the latter also showed improvement. He spent more time in practice and at one game, when it looked as if the scrub would beat the ’varsity, chiefly due to Tom’s fine pitching, Langridge saved the day by brilliant work in the box. The coach was pleased at this and Tom could not help feeling that his chances were farther away than ever.
There were many other phases of college life, aside from baseball, that appealed to Tom. He liked his studies and he gave them more attention than perhaps any other lad of the sporting set. He was not a “greasy dig,” by which was meant a student who burned midnight oil over his books, but he stood well in his classes, for learning came naturally to him.
Not so, however, to his roommate. Poor Sid had to “bone” away rather hard to get along, and, as he was required to put in a certain amount of time on the diamond, his lessons sometimes suffered. He was warned one day by Professor Tines, in the Latin class, that if he did not show more improvement he would be conditioned and not allowed to play on the team.
“And that mustn’t happen,” declared Captain Woodhouse. “Take a brace, Sid. Don’t go throwing us down now. It’s too late to break in another first baseman.”