Laurie laughed inwardly, but outwardly his expression and demeanor were as sober and as earnest as Kewpie’s. Mr. Mulford’s countenance showed him that that gentleman appreciated the humor of the incident and that he was to be allowed to “get away with it.” Beside him, Elk Thurston’s face was angry and sneering.
“Some pitcher you’ve got,” he said, speaking from the corner of his mouth. “You and he make a swell battery, Turner.” Then, as he sped the ball back to Nate, he called: “Guess it’s all up with you, Nate. See what the cat brought in!”
Nate smiled but made no answer.
Then Hillman’s trotted out on the diamond, and the pitchers retired to the bench. Laurie chose a seat well removed from Mr. Mulford, and Kewpie sank down beside him. Kewpie was chuckling almost soundlessly. “Did you see Elk’s face?” he murmured. “Gee!”
Laurie nodded. “He’s awfully sore. He thought we’d given up, you know, and when he caught sight of you coming out of the gym his eyes almost popped out of his head. There’s Ned over there in the stand, and George and the girls. Say, Kewpie, you’ve just got to get into a game before the season’s over or I’ll be eternally disgraced!”
“I’ll make it,” answered Kewpie comfortably. “You heard what he said.”
“Yes, but he didn’t make any promise. That’s what’s worrying me. Wonder how it would be to drop poison in Nate’s milk some day. Or invite him to ride in Mr. Wells’s roadster and run him into a telegraph-pole!” It was the sight of Mr. Wells coming around the corner of the stand that had put the latter plan into his head. “Got to manage it somehow,” he ended.
“That’s all right,” said Kewpie. “Don’t you worry about it. He’ll give me a chance soon. He didn’t say much yesterday, Nod, but I could see that he was impressed.”
“You could, eh?” Laurie viewed the other admiringly. “Say, you just hate yourself, don’t you?”