“Yes, Loring Deane’s man there.” Pringle nodded toward the other side of the diamond. “Say, it was funny!” “It must have been,” said Tom dryly. “Or maybe it’s just the humorous way you tell it.” “No, listen. Saturday Linton and Cox and I took a walk and went over beyond town where the High School fellows play. Well, there was a game going on and we stopped to watch it. It was just sort of a scrub affair, you know. Some of the fellows who work in the stores. There was the guy who clerks at the Inn and the red-headed chap from the drug store――Burger’s, you know――and a dozen others. I guess High School was playing away somewhere. Anyhow, these guys were having a great time, most of them playing in their shirt-sleeves. I wish you could have seen the fellow who was pitching! Honest, he was a scream. Well, presently Lin says ‘Who’s the tall whatsthis playing out in left? Don’t he look like that Wattles fellow?’ Well, sir, it _was_ Wattles! He――” “You’re crazy,” said Tom. “_Wattles!_” “Cross my heart, Tom! Why, we stayed there and watched, I tell you. He had his coat and vest off, and, of course, that trick derby of his, and just at first I wasn’t sure about him. He looks different without the old bean-pot. But it was him――I mean he, all right. He had on a pair of violet suspenders――” “Not Wattles,” corrected Tom gravely. “Wattles wears braces.” “Huh? Well, braces then. Ever see him with his vest off? Honest, Tom, his trousers come almost to his shoulders in the back. Funniest looking sight you ever saw! Well, we watched him awhile and it was good as a circus. Every little while some guy would knock a ball his way and Wattles would hold up his hands. Then he’d find out that the ball wasn’t coming where he was, and he’d start to run, still holding his hands out, mind you! Funny? Boy, it was a scream!” “Did he catch anything?” asked Tom, chuckling. “Well, yes, he did get one fly, and it wasn’t so rotten, either. But generally he just ran around out there, always yards away from the old pill when it lighted. He was so red in the face he looked like he was going to bust. And he was so blamed solemn all the time! Like he was performing――a――awhatyoucallit――rite!” “It’s a good story,” said Tom approvingly, “but of course you’re lying, Pringle. Old Wattles would no more slip out of his coat and chase around in his shirt-sleeves than――than――well, he just wouldn’t do it, Pringle. Mind, I don’t say the fellow didn’t look like Wattles. He probably did, although, at that, Wattles has a peculiar and quite uncommon style of beauty――” “Chase yourself,” advised Pringle disgustedly. “It _was_ Wattles. If you don’t believe me ask the others. There’s Cox right over there. Think I don’t know what I see when I see it? Listen, Tom, honest it was Wattles!” “Naughty boy,” admonished Tom, smiling. “Mustn’t tell fibs. Papa spank terrifically.”