Dan learned of Mr. Pennimore’s arrival after school.

“I told him you couldn’t come over this afternoon,” said Gerald, “on account of practice. So he said I must bring you to dinner at seven.”

“Gee! I’d like to go,” answered Dan wistfully, “but there wouldn’t be anything I could eat, I guess. It isn’t exactly a training table you folks set, Gerald. Besides, even if you had cold roast beef or poached eggs and such things, I’d want to eat the whole menu. I wish I wasn’t in training.”

“You don’t either,” said Gerald indignantly. “You’re mighty proud of it, and you know it! My! I wish I was in your place! Harry Merrow says you’re certain to get into the Broadwood game, Dan.”

Dan shook his head sadly.

“Merrow is a good little chap,” he said, “but I’ll never get into the Broadwood game unless they let me in for a minute at the end to give[231] me my Y. And as I’ve got two more years that isn’t likely. Of course I don’t want anything to happen to Condit, but—” Followed an eloquent silence.

“You can play just as well as he can,” said Gerald stoutly.

“No, I can’t. That is, I know the game as well, maybe, but he’s been on the team a year already and he knows what to do and how to do it. He’s had more experience. Oh, I don’t care—much. Maybe I’ll make it next year. The trouble is, though, that Condit will be here then, too.”

“Danforth won’t, though,” replied Gerald. “He’s a First Class man. You might make second next year, Dan.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” said Dan more cheerfully. “I’d rather make second, too. Why don’t you bring your father up to-morrow to see the game, Gerald? Wouldn’t he care for it?”

“I will. It’s Pell School, isn’t it?”

“Yes, and the last game before Broadwood. We’re going to get licked, they say. Now, about this evening, Gerald. I can’t come to dinner but I want to see your father awfully. Suppose I come over afterwards?”

“Of course! And we’ll come home together. Father can’t understand why I don’t want to go over there to live. But he says I can stay on here[232] until school closes if I’ll take luncheon and dinner with him. I must see Mr. Collins about it.”

“And I must dig out for practice. I guess, though, there won’t be much work this afternoon. Hello, did someone knock?”

It was Harry Merrow. He wanted Gerald to go canoeing with him, but Gerald explained that his father had returned and that he was going over there for the afternoon. So Harry decided to go down to the field with Dan and watch practice. They parted in front of Oxford, Gerald running in to the Office to get permission from Mr. Collins to spend all the time he wanted at Sound View and the other two continuing around to the gymnasium. Dan found himself on third base when practice began, for, although the regulars were to have an easy time of it in view of the hard contest set for the morrow, the substitutes were put through a strenuous afternoon.

Supper over, Dan set out for Sound View and found a hearty welcome awaiting him. Mr. Pennimore had to have a full account from Dan of everything that had transpired since his departure abroad. Dan tried to hurry over that part of his narrative which concerned Gerald’s unannounced departure from school, but Mr. Pennimore wanted full details. He shook his head when Dan had finished.

[233]

“I didn’t think you were of the run-away kind, Gerald,” he said regretfully. Gerald looked rather ashamed.

“Well, sir, it was a silly thing to do,” said Dan, “but Gerald had a lot of troubles about that time, Mr. Pennimore.”

“Running away doesn’t help,” replied Gerald’s father dryly. “The troubles can always run faster than you can. Next time, son, you hold your ground and fight it out.”

“Yes, sir, I will next time,” answered Gerald. “I—I know better now.”

“Well, that’s something. I don’t see but what you’ve been learning a good many things—beside algebra.”

“Yes, sir,” said Gerald meekly. Dan smiled as he caught the twinkle in Mr. Pennimore’s eye.

“I suppose you’re doing pretty good work in algebra now, son?”

“I expect to get C plus, sir,” said Gerald eagerly.

“C; hm; that’s the highest mark, is it?”

“N-no, sir, you can get a B—sometimes.”

“How about an A?”

Gerald shook his head decidedly. “Not from Kilts, sir. They say he never gave anyone an A but once and then it was a mistake.”

“That’s true, sir,” laughed Dan. “B plus is[234] about the best you can expect from Kilts.”

“Well, if that is so you’re doing pretty well, aren’t you, Gerald?”

“Yes, sir; Kilts says so himself.”

“And how about other studies?”

“Oh, I don’t mind them,” replied Gerald carelessly. “Maybe I will get an A in English. Say, though, you just ought to have been here and seen the Class Games! Weren’t they great, Dan?”

And thereupon the conversation switched from the dangerous topic of studies to the enthralling one of baseball. Dan’s suggestion that perhaps Mr. Pennimore would like to see the morrow’s game with Pell School was well received and Mr. Pennimore promised to accompany Gerald to that event.

“I had already promised myself a vacation until Monday,” he said, “so I could see something of this good-for-nothing boy of mine. I find, however, that my appearance on the scene is of much less interest to him than the next ball game. I’m afraid you’ve pretty effectually weaned him away from me, Dan?”

“We’re all rather excited about baseball just now, sir,” replied Dan apologetically.

“And you’ve got to go over to Broadwood, sir, and see the big game!” exclaimed Gerald eagerly. “You will, won’t you? We could go[235] over in the car and have a dandy time. You could ride over with us, couldn’t you, Dan?”

“Afraid I’ll have to go in the barge with the team,” answered Dan. “I wish you could see that game, though, Mr. Pennimore. It will be a fine one.”

“Well, we will see. Perhaps I can. Saturday, you say? I’ll think it over.”

Mr. Pennimore watched the contest the next afternoon from a seat in the grand stand, Gerald beside him. Mr. Pennimore didn’t know when he had last seen a baseball game and he h............