"Say," demanded Ned, once they were on the street, "what in the world's the matter with you?"
"Matter with me?" repeated Laurie a trifle wildly. "The matter with me is that I talk too blamed much! That's the matter with me! The matter with me—"
"Yes, yes," agreed Ned soothingly, "yes, yes, old-timer. But what's the present difficulty? Of course they don't really expect us to find a home for Miss Comfort, if that's what's biting you."
"Well, I should hope not! But—but, listen, Neddie. Do you think Kewpie knows enough about pitching to ever amount to a hill of beans? Do you think that, if he practised like anything all spring, he could—could get on the team?"
"Why, no, of course not," replied Ned calmly. "Haven't you said so yourself a dozen times?"
"Yes. Yes, and now I've gone and said he could!"
"Who could? Could what?"
"Kewpie. Be a pitcher and get on the team."
"Are you plumb loco?" asked Ned in astonishment.
