A single line under the caption “With the Amateur Clubs” announced: “At Medfield; Chenango, 14, Atlas A. A., 2.” Something rather like a pang of homesickness went through him then and he almost wished himself back in Medfield. He wrote a letter to Arthur Pattern that night before going to bed and sent his new address. Sunday was a quiet and rather dull day for the boys. They went for a walk in the afternoon and explored the city pretty well, but the only incident of interest occurred when Sam made the mistake of underrating the fighting ability of a large gray cat and returned sadder and wiser after an encounter in an alley. Tabby had clawed his nose most thoroughly and Sam had to whimper a little and be sympathised with before the journey continued. By getting up late that morning and dressing very leisurely they managed to make breakfast and dinner suffice in the way of meals, thus saving twenty cents. (The saving would have been thirty cents had not June fallen victim to the fascination of a chocolate éclair and Wayne squandered another nickel on a Sunday paper.) On Monday Wayne went back to the ball park and again served as utility man, catching throw-ins for Jimmy Slattery and backing up the fielders during batting practice. He was rapidly becoming an accepted feature of the morning work and the players, most of whom had by this time heard his story, were very friendly toward him, “Red” Herring especially. Practice lacked vim this morning, and the manager, while he gave no such exhibition of temper as he had displayed Friday, was plainly disgruntled. Wayne took pains to keep out of his way, but he was haunted by a feeling that Mr. Milburn’s lack of recognition was only assumed. Once Wayne surprised the manager observing him with an expression that, while not unfriendly, was decidedly ironical. He wondered then whether Mr. Milburn had recognised him Saturday. Somehow he rather thought he had! Practice again ended without any apparent advancement of Wayne’s fortunes, for he had by now determined that when he again broached the subject of that try-out to the manager it should be after Harrisville had won a game and while Mr. Milburn was in the best of humours. To bring the matter up at the wrong moment might, he suspected, result disastrously. Although Wayne was unacquainted with the phrase, it was the psychological moment that he waited for. Besides, there was another thing that he was banking on, and that was the return to Harrisville of Chris Farrel. It seemed to him that Chris could easily secure that try-out if only he would put in his appearance. But inquiry that morning of Jimmy Slattery was not encouraging. Jimmy didn’t know when Chris would get back. He had heard that the scout was working his way south as far as Maryland. He might be back tomorrow or next week. He came and went about as he saw fit, a fact which Jimmy, for some reason not apparent to Wayne, seemed to resent.