“Where are you going, Kid?” called Nan from the side porch the next morning.
Kid, half-way down the drive, turned, waved a hand and replied importantly: “To the village to buy balls. Ben just found we only had three. Want to come along?”
Nan shook her head. “I can’t. I wish I could. Kid, are we going to get beaten this afternoon?”
“Beaten! I should say not! Why, I’m going to play in right field!” And Kid grinned broadly.
“If we do they’ll take our trophy off with them, Kid. Won’t that be awful?”
“Fierce, but they won’t do it! You wait, Nan. We’ll lick ’em to smithereens; they haven’t got a chance!” And Kid went on, whistling blithely.
It was, he told himself, a dandy day, just the sort of a day for a ball game. And he was going to play! That was certainly bully. He’d show the fellows that he could play ball even if he was little! He paused in the middle of the drive and swung at an imaginary ball with an equally imaginary bat, and then, still in imagination, watched the ball flying high and far against the blue Spring sky.
“I’ll show ’em!” he murmured.
He had completed the purchase of three new balls in their neat red and white boxes and was out on the village street again when he heard his name spoken.
“Hello, Kid, what are you doing?”
It was “Toots” Morgan, “Toots” who still owed him that quarter, “Toots” who was to serve them with his puzzling curves and drops that afternoon. Kid scowled.
“Picking blueberries,” he replied flippantly.
“Think you’re smart, don’t you?” returned Toots with a frown.
“I think—” began Kid aggressively. Then he stopped and gazed for a moment thoughtfully at the adversary. Then, to “Toots’” surprise, he smiled genially. “I’ve been buying balls, ‘Toots.’ Ben found we hadn’t enough.”
“You’ll need a lot when we get at you,” replied “Toots,” amiably. “What kind did you get?”
Kid exhibited them and “Toots” approved, explaining at some length as he lounged along at Kid’s side why he preferred that particular make to any other. “Toots” was in very good humor this morning, it seemed, and Kid’s brain became active. He listened most respectfully to the other’s words of wisdom and viewed him admiringly.
“I guess you fellows won’t have much trouble licking us to-day, ‘Toots,’” he said finally. “I suppose you’ve heard about Ben?”
“Yes.” “Toots” nodded. “We’d have licked you anyway, though. It’s a cinch now.”
Kid nodded sadly. “Yes, they’ve had to put me in right field. Bert Bryant’s out of it, too, you see.”
“Toots” grinned. “I’ll let you down easy when you come to bat, Kid,” he said. “You’re a pretty good little chap, even if you did lose me that hockey game.”
“I’ve always been sorry about that, ‘Toots,’” said Kid sweetly. “Of course, I didn’t mean to do it, but I know it was my fault. It—it has troubled me a whole lot.”
“Toots” studied the face upturned to his own suspiciously, but the expression was so frank, so guileless that “Toots” was touched. “That’s all right, Kid. You couldn’t tell I was going to put one of the nasty things in my mouth and lose a stop. I know that. Maybe I’ll give you a straight, easy ball this afternoon, Kid, and let you get a hit—if we’re ahead and there’s no one on.”
“Will you, honest?” asked Kid eagerly. “I wish you would, ‘Toots’! I’d love to get a hit! Gee, wouldn’t it surprise those stuck-up chaps who say I can’t play? But how will I know when to hit it, ‘Toots’?”
“Toots” laughed amusedly. “Gee, you’re a green one, aren’t you, Kid? Well, say, I’ll give you a signal, see? Like this. When I put my hand up and wiggle my fingers this way—see?—you take a swing. I’ll put it over slow and easy for you, Kid. You’re not a bad sort.”
“That—that’s awfully kind of you,” stammered Kid. “I—I—say, ‘Toots,’ let me buy you some tonic, will you? I’d love to!”
“Sure,” laughed “Toots.” “Come on over to Haley’s. I don’t mind having money spent on me.”
“And maybe they’ve got some of those dandy éclairs,” mused Kid as he accompanied “Toots” across the street, “the kind with chocolate on top. Don’t you love those, ‘Toots’?”
“They’re not bad, and that’s a fact. You must have money, Kid.”
“I’ve got almost a dollar, ‘Toots.’” He didn’t explain that it was the change from the five dollar bill supplied him by Ben to buy balls with. “And I’m awfully hungry. Walking always makes me hungry.”
“Well, it’s sort of late to eat,” said “Toots” as he led the way into Haley’s store, “but if they have any of those éclairs, Kid, I guess I can spoil one.”
They had, as it proved; a whole tin tray full of them; and not only were there chocolate éclairs but vanilla and maple éclairs as well, and “Toots” was unable to decide which to take.
“Try a chocolate one first,” advised Kid, jingling his money loudly, “and then have one of the others. Those maple ones are great.”
That seemed a sensible idea and “Toots” followed it. And they each had a bottle of root beer. And after the two éclairs were finished Kid suggested bananas and more root beer. “Toots” declined the root beer but accepted two bananas. Meanwhile they sat on stools and swung their feet and talked baseball. “Toots” told all about his different deliveries, and about how he had had to practice months and months before he had mastered that “fade-away” of his, which, if Kid knew about such things, he would realize was just like Christy Mathewson’s. And Kid listened attentively, admiringly, with open mouth and wide eyes, and called for two apple turnovers and two dill pickles. It was almost half-past twelve when “Toots” brushed the crumbs of a peach tart from his jacket and lowered himself from the stool with a groan of repletion. Kid’s money was spent to the last cent and so there was no use remaining any longer. If “Toots” had not been so taken up with his own recital of his deeds and prowess he might have noticed that Kid had not eaten half of the pastry and fruit and pickles he had seemed to. The floor was littered with food and one of Kid’s pockets was mushy with half-eaten tarts and turnovers.
“Well, much obliged, Kid,” said “Toots” lazily. “That was a bully treat. I’ll stand you some day. I must waddle home to dinner now. Gee, but I’m full! Well, see you later. Don’t forget the signal; like this; see?”
And “Toots” wiggled his left hand in front of his forehead.
“I won’t forget. Thank you, ‘Toots.’” Kid watched the other make his way down the sidewalk. “You bet I won’t forget, ‘Toots.’ You watch me!” he murmured to himself. Then, smiling his cherub smile, Kid hurried back to school.