The fellow with the after 6 P. M. name waited patiently, and as the Babe couldn’t see the plate because Knight was so near, he walked. Wilson hit a slow one to Johnny which he came in on and rolled around the sod while Jones, Knight and Wilson perched on the salt bags. Hughie wigwagged the infield to come close, so they could hear the song of the Whirling Sphere and join in the chorus. Amberg binged one which knocked the wind out of Hagner’s organ, and Johnny picked up the sphere and heaved it at the Barber band which was sitting back of Gibbie behind the screen, to make them join the music. [Illustration: “Hughie wigwagged the infielders to come in closer.”] Jonesy and the Utter Darkness beat a fast tattoo on the base lines and disappeared over the horizon to the visitors’ bench after their final journey toward the West. Loud pedal by the band and the Barber chorus and two tallies. Babe got himself in tune by this time and whanged out three high but perfect notes which Wheeler tried to reach in unison with him, but couldn’t. Wilson, who had reached third while the loud pedal was open, was lulled to sleep by the sweet strains and caught napping by Gibbie. Dorner sent a whistler out to Talkington who muffled it and the singing practice was over. Score, 7-2. The report of the game went on in this style to the end. Tim had discovered a new language and he was proud of his effort. When he had finished he turned in his copy. A few minutes after he reached home he was called to the telephone. It was Professor Bennett speaking, and he asked Tim if he could come around and see him right away. He had something to talk with him about. When he reached the professor’s office he found him sitting with a puzzled expression looking at some manuscript which Tim thought was his. It was: “I don’t quite understand this, a-- I suppose it is a report of the baseball game with Barber yesterday.” “That’s it,” said Tim; “don’t you think it’s pretty good?” “Have they changed the baseball terms recently? I hadn’t heard of it. If not, and this is only an original way of yours of reporting what took place at the game, I’m afraid that we will have to dispense with it. I’m afraid that coming out as it does with the O. K. of the department of English, the _Lowell Reporter_ will be discredited among the alumni.” “I hope you won’t cut it out,” said Tim. “Yesterday’s game was mostly a one-sided and dull affair, and I thought I’d liven it up a bit by putting some spirit into the report.” “Well, but the words and terms you use are not understandable.” “I think you are mistaken, Professor, about that. I think even the smallest boy who knows anything at all about baseball could understand perfectly what is meant.”