Jonesie didn’t even glance up. “That just about finishes it,” he murmured. “I think, though, I’ll put Pinky at first instead of Wigman. Pinky says if he doesn’t play there he won’t play at all.”
“Say, what are you talking about?” demanded Sparrow, curiosity getting the better of an inherent contempt for any of Jonesie’s plans.
“I’m talking,” answered Jonesie with dignity, folding his list and returning it to a pocket, “about the All-Stars Baseball Team. You see, I’m getting up a team to give Billy Carpenter’s bunch of amateurs a little practice. We play them Thursday.”
“Play the School Team!” Sparrow turned Dumas’ face down on his knees and stared blankly at his roommate. “Say, are you funny in your head? Why—why, they’d lick the stuffing out of any team you could make up!”
“That’s what Billy thinks,” chuckled Jonesie.
“Should think he might!”
“But this team I’m getting up, Sparrow, is something a little bit out of the ordinary. Listen to this.” Jonesie found his list again and read it for Sparrow’s benefit. “Bumstead, pitcher; Jones, catcher; Trainor, first base; Hoyt, second base; Bowles, third base; Wigman, shortstop; Clint Wrenn, right field; George Wrenn, center field; Nash, left field. What do you think of that, Sparrow?”
“I think you’re crazy,” replied Sparrow with enthusiasm. “I’ll bet there isn’t a fellow in the lot ever played baseball!”
“Yes, there is,” rejoined Jonesie with a grin. “Both those Wrenns have played a lot. I thought first I wouldn’t have them, but I couldn’t get anyone else. You see, I told Billy I’d make up the team from the lower classes. But I put the Wrenns in the outfield where they won’t be able to do much harm.”