"No, but don't mention comparison. That reminds me of grammar, and grammar reminds me of verbs, and verbs naturally bring to mind declension, and--there you are. Let's talk about something pleasant." "What do you call pleasant?" "Well, baseball, for instance, though maybe that isn't very pleasant for you, since you didn't make the first team." "No," admitted Tom frankly, "it isn't pleasant to think about. I did want to get on the first team and I may yet. But I've learned one thing since coming here." "That's good. Maybe I'd better call up Moses and tell him. He'll feel encouraged that some of the students are progressing." "No, I wouldn't advise you to do that," spoke Tom with a laugh that showed his white, even teeth. "In fact, what I've learned didn't have much to do with books." "What was it?" "Well, it's been made very clear to me that it's something different from being a big fish in a little puddle than acting the part of a small-sized finny resident in a more extended body of water, to put it scientifically." "Meaning what, if you don't mind translating?" came from Sid as he stretched out on the rather worn and springless sofa. "Meaning that I had an idea that I was about as good as the next one in the pitching line, but I find I'm not." "Proceed," came calmly from Sid, who had his eyes shut. "No, I'm afraid I might disturb your slumbers," said Tom quickly, and there was a curious change in his voice. Sid sat up quickly. "I beg your pardon, old man," he exclaimed. "I was listening all right and I'm interested, honest I am. Only my eyes hurt to-night. But it must be quite different, coming from a small village to a fairly large college. Did you have a good nine at Northville?" "Well," went on Tom, somewhat mollified at his chum's interest, "we cleaned up all the other nines around there. I was considered a crackajack pitcher, but I guess now the reason for that may have been that the others were rotten batsmen." "There's something in that," admitted Sid judicially. "You see, things are peculiar here. Now take Langridge. Nobody, unless it's Kerr and a few others, cares much about him. Yet he's a fairly consistent pitcher, and he's the best they've had in some years, they tell me. Now our college has had rather hard luck on the diamond, especially in the Tonoka Lake League. There was a better chance of winning the championship last year than in any previous one, but we didn't make good. It wasn't altogether Langridge's fault. He didn't have very good support, I'm told. Now they've decided to keep him on, or, rather he's engineered things so that, as manager, he keeps himself on. And there are some hopes of pulling out somewhere in the lead of the league this season. But Langridge is his own best friend." "And he keeps me from pitching on the 'varsity," said Tom somewhat bitterly. "Can you blame him?"