one. It’s too bad to think of all that talent being wasted. But as it stands now, I can’t blame you.” Payne sighed and turned away.
When, a few weeks later, Edward learned that Keating had been chosen to play first base on the nine, and saw Keating’s joy, he was more glad than ever that he himself was rowing and so could not deprive his friend of the chance.
Keating treated his “table” to strawberries by way of celebrating his achievement. Edward spoke afterwards to Payne about it and expressed his pleasure that Keating had made the team.
“He’s great on first base,” Payne said. “He can’t miss ’em—pick-ups, wide balls, high ones, he eats ’em all. But at the bat he’s a mess. He can’t hit for little green apples.”
“Maybe he’ll learn.”
“He does n’t seem to. If a fellow has n’t a natural eye for hitting the ball, you can’t teach him much.”
“If you think it might help, I’ll coach him in the noon hour.”
