Gay awoke the next morning, feeling that something delightful was in prospect.
"What is it, I wonder?" questioned the sleeper, just summoned from dreamland. "Oh, I know, it's the ball-game!"
Gay sprang out of bed and ran to the window to see if the weather was clear. Yes; the sun was up, smiling his most charming welcome, and Gay began to dress with the reckless haste of one who must be up and away. Such haste was unnecessary; the ball-game was not to be played until afternoon, but having something to look forward to adds impetus to one's movements.
"I must put on a strong waist; I don't want my clothes to fall apart on the diamond!" said Gay to himself. "That's the worst of being a girl; it's such a bother to keep picking out dresses. Yesterday I wore this white dress, but I can't put it on to-day. No, I have to hunt through the closet for something else. This flannel blazer will be just the thing to wear with this flannel skirt; it's ripped a little but I guess it will hold. I don't dare to say anything about it for fear Aunt Beulah will make me mend it! I wonder if I can run in skirts. I guess I'll take a turn in the back yard and find out!"
No one was astir but Margery, who was at work in the kitchen when Gay came in.
"Good morning, Margery."
"What are ye up so early for? Ain't ye tired after your party?"
"Not a bit. Nice party, wasn't it, and aren't those splendid boys, particularly Lyman?"
"Ye-es, they ain't bad boys for common folks, but there are ever so many nicer boys in the village, Miss May; real, little fine gentlemen, an' their fathers and grandfathers before them were gentlemen."
"They are not anything but boys, are they?"