“There’s Mr. Gould,” said Toby. “He umpired for us this spring. Only I don’t know if he could leave his store on a Wednesday.”
“I was thinking that maybe Mr. Trainor would do it for us,” said Arnold. “I mean the youngest one.”
“Brother Jim?” Toby nodded. “He’d be all right. We might ask him. I guess he could do it, eh?”
“Yes. I asked Frank about him and the others, you know, and Frank said Mr. Trainor, the one that’s married to Mrs. Trainor, is a great swell. He’s crazy for me to take him over there and introduce him. He says the brother goes to Yale and played on the varsity nine this spring. They come from Philadelphia.”
“I wouldn’t hold that against him,” replied Toby gravely, “if he did a good job and gave the Towners all the close decisions. Let’s go over and ask him now.”
Arnold agreed on the condition that Toby was to come right back to town and look up the rest of the members for his team, and so they all three chugged around to the houseboat in the Frolic, were warmly welcomed and obtained Brother Jim’s consent to act as umpire. “I’ve never tried it,” he said, “but I’ll do my best for you. I warn you right now, though, that if I’m struck with anything heavier than a bat I’ll throw up the job!”
Toby told of the discovery of the name and makers of the stolen launch and Mr. Trainor sighed sympathetically. “I guess you’ll have to give her up, Tucker. Unless—I say, here’s an idea! How would it do if I went over to your wharf some dark night and took her away? We’d go halves on her and—but, there, I forgot. Deering’s part owner, isn’t he? We might buy him off, though; pay him hush money. Think it over, Tucker!”
Mrs. Trainor took greatly to Phebe and showed her through the houseboat while the others were talking on deck. Then they embarked again and went back to town, and Toby set off, with no great gusto, to complete the roster of his nine, Arnold consenting to remain for dinner.