Once the shock of learning that he was going to move away from Millton—where he had lived all his life—had passed away, Tommy rather liked the idea of the change. He felt that it was quite an important event to move, and he began to plan how he would set about organizing his baseball nine.
“I guess I’ll call my nine the Riverdale Roarers,” he decided as he slipped on his old trousers. “If we could get jackets with ‘R. R.’ on, they’d look fine. I’m going to ask ma if I can.”
But when he got downstairs he found his father there, and listened to what his parents were talking about.
“The moving vans will be here the first thing in the morning,” explained Mr. Tiptop, “and the man says we needn’t bother to pack much besides the dishes and the kitchen things. They will attend to the rest. Hello, Tommy, how will you like it?”
“All right, I guess, pa, if I can play ball.”
“Oh, you can play ball, I think. But now, come on. I want you to help me nail up some boxes.”
“Then Nellie must wrap paper on the pictures,” decided Mrs. Tiptop. And from then on there was a busy time in that house.
When the supper hour arrived, considerable packing had been done, and then, after the meal, they did more, so that by night they were almost ready for the vans.
Tommy dreamed that he was playing ball inside of one of the big padded wagons, and that he tried to run around the bases, carrying a chair in one hand and a big platter in the other. Then someone shouted:
“Tommy, Tommy! Get up!”