team he had better be thinking up some way of persuading Pinky to let him pitch a couple of innings in one or other of the two games that remained before the Farview contest. Thereupon Kewpie subsided and gazed glumly from the car window. His chance of pitching for the team that season didn't appear so bright to him to-day.
Sunday afternoon they took their accustomed walk, Polly, Mae, Ned, Laurie, and Bob, and as usual they stopped for a while at the Pequot Queen. The afternoon was fair and warm, and the Pequot Queen—or the Lydia W. Frye, if you prefer—made a very attractive picture. The new white paint and the golden yellow trim were still fresh, the gay red and white awning stretched above the upper deck, the flower-boxes were green and promising—there was even one pink geranium bloom in sight—and the beds that Brose Wilkins had made at each side of the gangway were filled with plants. Miss Comfort wore an almost frivolous dress of blue with white figures and her best cameo pin, the one nearly as large as a butter-chip, that showed a cheerful design of weeping willow-tree and a tombstone.
