of times," Polly protested. "Two years ago we had a first baseman on the high school team who was every bit as fat as Kewpie Proudtree. You remember George Wallen, Mae."
"But it isn't only his fatness, or stoutness, or whatever you like to call it," insisted Laurie. "He isn't built right for baseball. Gee, think of Kewpie trying to beat out a bunt or sliding to second! Besides, hang it, I couldn't get him on the team if he really could pitch! Pinky said positively—"
"Is he a pitcher?" asked Polly eagerly.
"No, but he wants people to think he is."
"But that would make it lots easier, Laurie! A pitcher doesn't have to run much, and—"
"Why doesn't he? Don't you think he has to take his turn at the bat sometimes?"
"But he never hits the ball," replied Polly triumphantly, "and so he doesn't need to run!"
"She had you there, partner," laughed Ned.
"Well, just the same," answered Laurie, grinning, "I'll be hanged if I'm going to ask Pinky to let Kewpie on the squad just so he won't be lonesome. Pinky wouldn't listen to me, anyway."
"You don't know," said Polly. "And I think
