With some difficulty, Locke refrained from a delighted outburst of laughter. “I quite agree with you, Tommy,” he said. “There have been occasions when I was desperate myself.” “I know, I know,” eagerly cried the little fellow. “I seen that fust game you pitched ag’inst Bancrof’. Gee! You must ’a’ been desprut with the bunch howlin’ at ye ’n’ you plumb off your pins; but you jes’ got together an’ made ther Bullies’ look like er lotter shines. I see all ther games. It don’t cost me nuthin’; I know er loose board, ’n’ I crawl t’rough the fence. Say,” he added, in sudden alarm over the indiscretion of this confession, “you won’t gimme erway, will ye?” “Never,” promised the pitcher solemnly. “I register an oath to be silent as the grave.” “Come, Tommy,” said Janet, “we must go back to the others.” “Aw, w’ats the use o’ hurryin’?” objected the boy. “They’re comin’ this way now.” He lifted his voice in a shrill shout: “Hey, fellers, come on! This way. Here we be.” There were answering calls, and the sound of running feet and crashing bushes. Seeing a look of uncertainty upon the girl’s face, Locke hastened to reassure her: “Let them come, Miss Harting. This is as good a place as any for them to amuse themselves.” “But you――we have disturbed your reading.” “There are things more interesting than books, and I was really a bit lonely. See, there is a clean log on which you may sit, and, if you don’t mind, I’d like to talk to you. You’ll certainly be well chaperoned. Of course, if you object to my company and――” Making the grove ring with their whoops, six youngsters came bursting into the glade. Tommy quickly satisfied their surprised curiosity regarding the young man they found talking to their teacher. “That’s Lefty,” he said. “We jes’ run ercrost him here by accidunt. He’s ther greatest pitcher that ever bent er slant over the slab round these parts. Me brudder Bill says so.” “Aw, g’wan!” retorted a barefooted boy, who was a bit larger and somewhat older. “My brudder Sam says Lefty ain’t so much, only he’s a southpaw, an’ Bancrof’ ’s gotter lot of left-hand knockers; an’ that’s how he bothers ’em.” “Looker here, Jimmy,” said Tommy ominously, thrusting the harmonica into his pocket, “your brudder Sam was talkin’ through his hat. Anyhow, he dunno beans ’bout baseball.” “He knows as much as your brudder Bill.” “You’re another!” The two boys flew at each other, Tommy getting in the first crack and following it up hotly; but Locke’s strong hands quickly separated them and held them apart. “He said you warn’t no good as a pitcher,” panted Tommy. “Lemme go, an’ I’ll make him eat his words.” “Aw, let ’im come,” sneered Jimmy, “an’ I’ll knock ther block off him.” It was Janet who succeeded in shaming them into a temporary truce; but, although they promised to fight no more on Sunday, both muttered dire threats of what they would do to each other the first time they met on a week day.