"All right," agreed Kewpie, beaming. "Gee, in a week I'll be speeding them over like—like anything!"
Laurie looked at him pityingly. "You—you poor prune!" he sighed. Ned surreptitiously kicked him on a shin and quickly drowned Kewpie's hurt protest with, "There! That's fine! Come on, Laurie, it's nearly eleven."
"All right," answered Laurie, rubbing the shin. "See you later, Kewpie, and we'll fix up a time for practice." Out of ear-shot of the more leisurely Kewpie, Laurie turned bitterly on his brother. "It's all right for you," he complained, "but that poor fish doesn't know any more about pitching than I know about—about my Latin this morning! It's all right for you, but—"
"You said that before," interrupted Ned unfeelingly. "Look here, old-timer, did we or didn't we agree to help Kewpie? Are you or aren't you a member of the Association for the Reclamation—"
"Sure, I'm a member! And I'm the goat, too, it seems like! I have to do all the dirty work while you stand around and bark up my shins! How do you get that way? You can catch a ball
