It was the day of the great and deciding game with Mooretown. Dick was struggling into his trousers and blouse in his room, when Toots brought him word that there was a visitor for him in the reception room.
"Who is it, Toots?" he asked. "I haven't much time. Most of the fellows are already on the diamond."
"He says his name is Honeybee, as near as I can make out."
"Honeybee," repeated Dick, much puzzled. "Oh, it must be Larabee. It's my Uncle Ezra!"
Then a look of annoyance came over his face.
"If I go down to see him he'll keep me from the game," he thought. "I haven't any time to spare. He'll lecture me about the waste of time in playing baseball, or the danger of it, or something like that. Or he may want me to show him around the academy. No, he's not likely to do that, for fear he'd wear out his shoes. I wonder what in the world he can want, anyhow? But if I see him now I'll never get a chance to play. I'll not see him."
"Toots," he said, "tell my uncle that I have an important engagement, and ask him to wait until I come back."
"All right, Mr. Hamilton," replied the janitor. "Shall I tell him what it is? Maybe he'd like to see the game," and Toots softly whistled "Just Before the Battle, Mother."
"No! No! Don't tell him!" exclaimed Dick.
