Tom was sixteen, big, broad-shouldered and raw-boned, with an angular face and high cheek-bones liberally speckled with freckles. At present he was minus coat and vest and wore a pair of blue overalls. “You kids get in the house now,” he instructed the suddenly silent trio of youngsters, “and tell your mother to keep you in there, too. You’ve bothered me enough. Shoo, the whole lot of you!”
They went, with many backward glances, and Tom cleared a space on the edge of the unrailed porch for Gordon and Fudge. “Say, it’s some warm, isn’t it? What you fellows up to to-day? Going to the pond?”
“No, we’re calling on you,” replied Fudge.
“Baseball,” said Gordon. “We’re getting up a team to play the Rutter’s Point fellows and we want you to join, Tom.”
“I don’t mind, if there isn’t much practice. There’s a lot to be done around the house here this summer. We’re going to shingle next week, and after that we’ll paint. Who’s on the team?”
Gordon explained all about it, read Bert Cable’s letter and Caspar Billings’ and told Tom the line-up of the nine as he had planned it.
“Sounds all right,” said Tom. “When are you going to start?”
“Right away. If you’ll pitch for us we’ll be all right. I’ll answer Billings’ letter and tell him we’ll meet him a week from Wednesday. That’ll give us a whole week for practicing.”
“All right, I’m with you, only don’t expect me to practice much, Gordon. I’m pretty busy. I’ll come out a couple of times, though; say—let me see—say Friday and Monday. Going to use the school field?”
“Yes. I don’t suppose anyone will object?”
“Don’t see why they should. You’d better see Mr. Grayson, though.”
“I will. No, that will be up to Dick. He’s going to be manager.”
“Dick Lovering?” asked Tom, in surprise. “Well, I don’t see why not. He can get around all right. Have you asked him?”
“Yes, and he said he would. The only thing is, Tom, we’ll have to pay his expenses if we go away from home very far. I told him we would. It wouldn’t be much if we shared it. You see, Dick doesn’t have much money. I guess they’re pretty hard-up. His father only left them that house they’re in and a little insurance money, and of course Dick can’t do much to earn any.”
“He told me the other day,” said Fudge, “that he was trying to get work tutoring this summer over at the Point. He could do that finely if he could find anyone to toot. Hope he does. Dick’s a peach.”