arm-chair. Kewpie subsided with a long sigh and blinked wonderingly, first at Nid and then at the determined Nod. Then he placed a large and pudgy hand in the neighborhood of his face and yawned cavernously.
"What's the matter with you fellows?" he inquired. "What are you looking at me like that for?"
"Kewpie," said Ned, "do you honestly think you can ever learn to pitch?"
"What!" Kewpie woke up a trifle. "I can pitch right now. Who says I can't?"
"I do," said Laurie emphatically. "You can pitch now just about as well as a toad can fly. What we want to know is whether, if you practise hard and keep at it, you can learn."
Kewpie looked hurt. "Say, what's the matter with my drop-ball?" he asked indignantly. "I suppose you think you could hit that, eh? Well, I'd like to see you try it."
"Cut out the bunk, Kewpie," said Ned sternly. "We're talking business now. You know plaguey well you wouldn't last ten seconds against a batter, the way you're pitching now. Laurie says you've got a fair drop, when you get it right,
