“Then you—won’t consider selling a little of it?”
“No, sir! Why should I? Benedict wants me to cut a slice right off that meadow there so’s his boys can play ball on it. Ball! Huh! I’m not saying that if he wanted it for a building or something useful I wouldn’t consider selling to him. I guess I could get on without that corner of land. But why should I cut up that meadow just so’s a lot of worthless rascals can throw a ball around over it? Ain’t they got room enough as it is, I’d like to know?”
“No, sir, that’s just it,” replied Jack quietly. “They haven’t got nearly room enough. I’d like to explain it to you if you’ll let me.”
“Don’t want to hear it,” grunted the farmer. “It’s all been explained time and time again.”
“Not very well, then, I guess,” said Jack with some asperity, “or you wouldn’t persist in saying that we have land enough.”
“Wouldn’t, eh? Well, you explain it, then. Not that it’s going to make a mite o’ difference, though, young man.”
“Then I don’t see that there’s much use in my wasting my breath,” answered Jack with a frown. “However, here’s just how it is, Mr. Finkler. You see, baseball and football and the other games we play on our field require a certain amount of room. I dare say, sir, you’ve noticed that on a baseball field the outfielders are pretty well spread out.”
“Are they? Well, young man, I never saw a game of baseball, but I’ll take your word for what you say.”
“Didn’t you ever play it when you were a boy?” asked Jack in genuine surprise.
“No, I never did,” replied the farmer grimly. “I got my exercise chopping wood or hanging on to the tail end of a plow. Never felt any desire to chase a ball around a field, neither. Long about eight o’clock I’d had all the exercise I wanted and I was good and ready for bed. Go on.”