In the afternoon he wandered forth and was lucky in seeing a special bus parked near the station. Along the side of it was a canvas sign that read:
FARRELTON BASEBALL TEAM
JUNIOR BUSINESS MEN’S ASSOCIATION
He lost no time in making inquiries of the waiting driver and, on learning that the young business men’s team was to play the Hanniford team at Farrelton Junction grounds, he asked if he might join the imposing caravan.
“Guess they’ll have a full load, sonny,” said the driver. “The band’s going and a lot of the merchants.”
“Well, my father’s a merchant,” said Hervey.
“Anybody from your father’s place playing?”
It was suggestive that the rather old-fashioned establishment of conservative Mr. Walton was not represented on this gala occasion. The team was made up of young men who were clerks in the Farrelton stores and the band also was part of this young business men’s organization. They were having a half holiday to beat the Hanniford team. Wistful boys stood gazing at the special bus; some, no doubt, would hike to Farrelton Junction. Hervey alone sought acceptance into this merry adult company.
“Don’t I know Mr. Holmes? Don’t I get ice cream in his store?” he demanded. “Do you bet he won’t let me get in? Do you dare me to get in now?”
“Come ahead in,” called a burly young fellow in the bus. He was resplendent in a gray baseball suit with F.B.T. on it. “Come on, I dare you to.”