“Oh, I don’t think they’ll need my help. I was just saying to them that they ought to see what they could do without--er--legal assistance. Take my advice, Pollock, and keep away from lawyers as long as you can. That’s right, isn’t it, Mr. Talbot?” “Good advice, but unprofitable to us,” was the reply. “The audience is getting impatient, Tom. Are you ready?” From the stand came cries of “Play ball!” and Mr. George, struggling to fit to a rather large head a mask that was several sizes too small for him, called, “Batter up!” The Amesville Blues trotted to their places and Lynton presented her first man. Mr. Talbot and Mr. Hall, left with the substitutes, settled down to watch the game. Mr. Hall sighed comfortably. “This is what I like,” he said. Mr. Talbot looked a question. “Sitting on a bench,” explained the other, “with nothing to do but watch a couple of teams play ball. It beats working all hollow!” Mr. Talbot laughed. “That’s so, but for my part I’d rather be out there playing, Hall.” “Y-yes, so would I, except that I’m too rusty now to try it. Golf’s about the only game left to us older chaps.” “You don’t look so superannuated. Dare say you could puzzle them a bit yet if you tried. One down,” he added as the first Lynton batsman trailed his bat away from the plate. “Wonder if I could,” mused Mr. Hall. “I’d rather like to try, I guess. You went to college in the East, didn’t you, Talbot?” “Yes, Pennsylvania. And you?” “Warner. We never met you chaps.” “No, I think not. Good work, Healey! That boy can handle them mighty well for a youngster. That’s two down. Tom Pollock hasn’t got his stride yet, or else he isn’t working. Those two chaps make a great team.” “Pollock and Craig? What sort of a fellow is this Craig boy?” “Just what you see. Quiet, straightforward, honest as they make them. Not exactly brilliant--Look at that for a drop!--not brilliant exactly, but sensible and brainy. Pollock said Sam was a friend of yours, I thought.” “He is. I met him yesterday.” Mr. Talbot smiled. “Not of long standing, then.” “No, the fact is we have a mutual friend, Craig and I. We’re just getting acquainted. I like him, though, so far.” “You’ll keep on then, for Sam doesn’t change much. That’s one thing that makes him a mighty good catcher. He’s as steady as a rock. Plays the same game to-day he did yesterday, except that he probably gets a little better all the time. He isn’t the sort who have flashes of fine form one day and then slump the next. That’s the stuff, Tom! Who’s scoring? You, Steve? When does that pitcher of theirs come up? Fifth on the list? I thought so. I guess he’s going to make trouble for us. What’s his name?” “Smith,” replied Steve Arbuckle. “Smith! I’ll wager he has another name at home,” said Mr. Talbot. “If he gets too gay I’ll go in there myself, unless you will, Hall.”