“No, I’m not that kind.”
“So I see. Well, you’ve got what you wanted and I got what I never expected. Now I want you to do me a favor.”
“What is it?”
“I want you to refuse to pitch in the Fairview game.”
Tom wondered whether he had heard aright.
“You want me to refuse——” he began.
“That’s it,” went on Langridge eagerly. “Tell Kindlings—tell Lighton you can’t pitch—that your arm has given out.”
“But it hasn’t.”
“Never mind. Tell them. Tell them anything, as long as you don’t pitch.”