Handling the goods he did, it is not to be wondered at that Tom grew interested in athletic sports and events. Although he had never witnessed a baseball game, save such impromptu affairs as he had participated in with his mates at the country school, when the home plate was a flat rock stolen from the stone wall and the bases were empty tin cans or blocks of wood, nor seen an athletic meeting, nor had more than the haziest notion of what one did with a golf club, he nevertheless developed a keen interest in all these things and perused the sporting news in the papers with a fine devotion. At least he could talk understandingly about baseball and track and field sports, which was a handy thing, since the group of boys who got into the habit of meeting at the sporting goods counter in Cummings and Wright’s were forever thrashing over those subjects. I don’t mean that he offered opinions unsolicited, for that wasn’t Tom’s way. Nor did he ever affect knowledge he didn’t possess. When he didn’t understand a subject he let it alone. If appealed to on a point beyond him, he acknowledged his ignorance. The result was that when he did say anything fellows listened to him respectfully, and it came to be a settled conviction that if Tom Pollock said a thing was so, why, it was so! It was the one big regret of Tom’s life in those days that he was not able to go out with the others and take part in their sports. He’d liked to have tried for the ball team, and seen what he could do over the hurdles or grasping a vaulting pole or putting one of the big iron shots. He’d even have liked to play golf! And all he knew about golf was that you hit a small white ball with a cruelly large-headed club, why or where to being beyond him! The nearest compensation came in the evenings after a hastily-eaten supper. Then he and Sidney, and sometimes a third or fourth fellow, took bat and ball to the vacant lot near Sidney’s house and had a fine time as long as the spring twilight lasted. Tom had gone to the extravagance of purchasing for himself a catcher’s mitt at wholesale price, and Sidney, who played left field on the high school team that spring and fancied himself a bit as a pitcher, would station Tom against the tumble-down fence and “put ’em over” to him. Sidney had more speed than skill, though, and Tom had lots of exercise reaching for wild ones. It was good practice, however, for Sidney and much fun for Tom. When other chaps showed up one of them would bat flies or grounders to the rest. Sometimes enough boys were present to permit of what they called “fudge,” each taking his turn at fielding, playing first base, pitching, catching, and batting. Tom’s enthusiasm for a recreation in which the rest might indulge at almost any time but which was forbidden to him, save at infrequent times, worked for proficiency and it wasn’t long before he could knock up high flies or crack out hot liners as unerringly as the best. As