a fortnight, in fact, which accounted for his anxiety at street crossings and corners and, possibly, for the lack of healthy color in his face.
The car was painted a deep and brilliant blue, and, appropriately enough, had been dubbed by its owner "Eli Yale," answering, however, quite as readily to "Eli." Its varnish was as yet unmarred by scratch or blotch and its brass shone resplendently. To make no secret of it, the car had been presented to Dick by the members of the Clearfield Baseball Club at the completion of a successful season which had netted the club much money. Dick had been the manager and had conducted affairs so capably that the gift was well-deserved. The car had been bought at a bargain, having been used but a few days by its previous owner, and was proving a wonderful blessing to Dick, who was very far from being wealthy enough to purchase such a luxury himself. Dick, you see, was not as well able to get about as other boys, for he had been a cripple all his life. You'd never have suspected it to see him guiding Eli around the corner of B Street, for to all appearances he was quite a normal and healthy lad. But had you looked on the running-board at the left of the car you'd have seen a pair of crutches
