“A little,” owned Jack. “I—I burned it at the fire last night.”
“Let’s see!”
So Jack held it up for inspection and a murmur of surprise and sympathy went around the table. Dolph opened his eyes very wide. Mr. Shay frowned.
“I should say you had burned it,” said the latter dryly. “Did you know that, Jones?”
“I certainly did not, sir!” responded Dolph. “Didn’t you know, Jack, we wouldn’t have let you play if we’d known your hand was in that shape?”
“Yes, that’s the reason I didn’t say anything about it,” answered Jack naïvely, producing a burst of laughter. “I could have caught that ball all right if I’d just remembered my hand, Dolph. But when I saw the ball coming I forgot, and when it landed it—it hurt like the dickens and before I could squeeze it it had bounced out.”
“You might have lost us the game,” said Dolph reproachfully.
“Oh, well, cut out the post mortems,” begged Ted. “Don’t forget that Jack’s hit brought in the winning run. Besides, you want to remember that Jack had been fighting for right field for a week and he knew if he showed that hand around his hated rival would get the job.” Ted smiled across at Will Watkins.
“I guess I would have, too,” said Watkins with a grin. “I’d have done just what Borden did, you bet!”