"Seven to nothing," growled Mr. Rupert Barry.
"It has been a great game," chirped "Uncle" Steve. "Considering everything, I think the schoolboys put up a pretty good fight."
"So do I," exclaimed Captain Bunderley, in his deep bass voice.
"Our ideas differ, sir," said Mr. Barry, gripping his knotted cane as though he intended to knock some one on the head. "I'm disgusted—so completely disgusted that I hardly know how to find words to express my feelings."
"Don't try, sir; don't try!" advised Mr. Kimbole, smiling benignly. "What a grand sport baseball is! I trust, sir"—he turned toward Professor Ivins—"that you have enjoyed the afternoon as much as I."
"Ahem—ahem!" The professor polished his eye-glasses industriously. "To be sure. After one has been cooped up indoors all week this sunshine is really delightful," he admitted.
"No matter who may be discouraged by the showing of the school, I am not," declared Captain Bunderley, emphatically.
"I believe, if we could get the consensus of opinion, you'd have few supporters," snapped Mr. Rupert Barry. "Five straight defeats seem to forecast a dismal failure."