- thing to say but couldn't, though he cleared his
throat twice and got as far as "Hm!" You couldn't see much of the baseball game from that window. The diamond was at the far end of the field, and a corner of the football stand hid most of it. Laurie found a book and read, and Ned began a letter to his father. Somehow the afternoon wore away.
Kewpie burst in at a little before five, at once triumphant and downcast. Hillman's had won, 11 to 8, but Kewpie Proudtree had not been allowed to pitch for even a part of an inning, and so his last chance was gone, and if Pinky called that doing the square thing—But Laurie broke in just then. "Can it," he said gruffly. "You saw the game, anyhow, and that's more than I did!"
"That's right," said Kewpie, apologetically. "It's a rotten shame, Nod. What's Johnny got on you, anyhow? You can tell me. I won't say a word."
"He hasn't got anything on me," growled Laurie. "He just thinks he has. Who pitched?"
"George started, but they got to him in the
