answer. "We've got to see that he does, Laurie. You've said you were going to make a pitcher of him—"
"I didn't actually say I was going to do it."
"Well, some one. You've said he was going to pitch on the team this season. You might as well have said that I was going to be made President. But you said it and, by heck, you've got to make good or perish in the attempt. The honor of the Turners—"
"Looks to me like the honor of the Turners is going to get an awful jolt," murmured Laurie despondently. "Making a pitcher out of Kewpie—Gee, Ned, the fellow who made a purse out of a pig's ear had a snap!"
"It's got to be done," reiterated Ned firmly. "After supper we'll decide how. Hold on, though! We don't actually have to have him a real pitcher, son. All we have to do is to get him on the team just once, even if it's only for two minutes, don't you see?" Ned's tone was triumphant.
"Yes, but how can we do that if he doesn't know how to pitch? I don't see that that's going to make it any easier."
