"Not yet, sir."
"Then why are you practicing on this field?"
"'Cause they let me."
"As bold as brass," murmured Mr. Barry, in audible tones. "Somers, I believe I requested you to keep right on with your playing."
Mr. Barry looked at the captain of the nine as sternly as though he were some culprit caught trespassing on his field. The afternoon sun played on an angular, smooth-shaven face and a pair of cold gray eyes. There was nothing in his expression to indicate any great sympathy with youth or their pastimes. But it was observable that, even as he spoke, his gaze was continually shifting from one group to another.
"This is the first day we have practiced outside of the gym, Mr. Barry," began Bob. "You see it was such a bully day——"
"I must request that you eliminate such words as 'bully' when addressing me," interrupted the visitor, stiffly.
"Would you like to have a little bat-out and catch, Mr. Barry?" asked Nat Wingate, in a very innocent tone.
"I know you of old, Wingate," returned the other, frigidly. "You may direct your remarks elsewhere. What did you say, Brandon?"
"That we seem to be rounding out in pretty good shape, Mr. Barry; and——"