“You’re quite horrid this evening,” she charged. “If you want me to make that pennant for you, you’d better behave yourself.”
“I’ll do the nicest thing I know,” returned Lanny sweetly. “I’ll go home!”
The next afternoon Clearfield played Fernwood High School on the diamond and beat the visiting nine decisively, 14 to 3. The work of the purple team was rather ragged and neither Haley nor Nostrand, both of whom pitched that afternoon, was in good form. Hits were frequent on both sides, but Clearfield’s performance in the field prevented many runs by the visitors. Fernwood, on the other hand, had two bad innings, during which their infield threw the ball wild, and errors, coupled with some timely hitting by Bryan, Cotner and Merrick, in especial, enabled the home team to pile up a safe score before the game was half over. As Lanny was working with the track men that afternoon, his place was taken by Terry Carson, and the substitute caught a nearly perfect game until the eighth inning when a foul tip glanced away from a bat and split one of his fingers. After that McCoy went behind the plate, and it was a marvel that the visitors didn’t pull the game out of the fire, for Sprague McCoy, an outfielder, was quite at sea in the backstop position. Nostrand, however, who was in the points during the last four innings, got himself together and managed to stave off two batting rallies. The incident opened Dick’s eyes to the fact that a second substitute catcher was needed, and he and Captain Jones went a-hunting. It was Pete Robey upon whom their choice finally fell, and Pete found himself suddenly elevated from an insecure position amongst the rabble to a seat on the first team bench. But that was a day or two later. To-day Dick and Warner Jones were still discussing the matter when they left the field, and it was into that discussion that Fudge broke when he and Perry caught up with the older boys just as Dick swung himself into the runabout.
“Dick, did you find out anything last night?” asked Fudge eagerly.
“Hello, Fudge! Hello, Perry! Why, yes, something. Pile in here and I’ll tell you in a minute. Let Perry sit in your lap, Warner, will you? Fudge, you squat on the floor.”
“Don’t drag your feet, though,” warned the captain humorously, “or you’ll stop the car.” He and Dick resumed their discussion of the catcher question and kept it up until Warner got out at his gate. When they trundled on Dick turned to the expectant Fudge.
“I spoke to Louise last night, Fudge, about your friend, and then she spoke to her father this morning. I suspect that he didn’t much want to hire What’s-his-name, but Louise is a very determined person and she finally got him to say that if this friend of yours would call on him at his office to-morrow morning—he’s in New York to-day—he’d talk with him. Louise telephoned me at breakfast about it. She said Mr. Brent was very obstinate at first.”
“That’s b-b-bully!” exclaimed Fudge.
“Well, don’t expect too much,” warned Dick. “Mr. Brent isn’t likely to hire him unless he can prove that he knows his business. I know enough about Mr. Brent to be certain of that, Fudge.”