CHAPTER XXI
MR. BRENT TELEPHONES
Perhaps a liking for baseball is latent in every American. Otherwise howexplain the fact that Mr. Jonathan Brent, who, on his own showing, hadnever witnessed a game before in his life, watched that one with veryevident interest? It was, of course, quite incomprehensible to him atfirst and both Morris and Louise had to do a lot of patient explaining.But by the end of the second inning their father had a very fair notionof what was going on, although he still was puzzled by many of theincidents. As when a Lesterville player tried to reach second after WillScott had captured a foul behind third base and was thrown out by ascant foot. If it was a foul, argued Mr. Brent, that fellow on firstshouldn't have left his base. No sooner was that explained--by Morris,since Louise's knowledge of baseball wasn't sufficient for thetask--than Tom Haley was unfortunate enough to hit the Lesterville rightfielder on the elbow. The umpire waved the squirming, dancing batter tofirst and Mr. Brent exclaimed: "Now, what's that for, Morris? He didn'thit the ball, did he?"
At the end of the fourth inning, when Clearfield had managed to bat outa two run lead, Mr. Brent looked at his watch and announced hisintention of leaving. "Guess you can finish this without me now," hesaid. "Mother will be wondering where I've gone to."
"No, she won't," replied Louise. "Mama's gone to Mrs. Grey's thisafternoon. Do stay and see just two more innings, papa."
"Yes, don't leave us now, dad," said Morris. "You never can tell what'sgoing to happen in a ball game!"
Mr. Brent frowned, fidgeted and finally leaned back again. "Well," hesaid, "I'll see one more turn for each of 'em."
But at the end of the seventh when, after Lesterville had gone ahead inthe fifth, Clearfield came back with two doubles and a base on balls andevened up the score, Mr. Brent was still there and showed no signs ofleaving. In fact, although we have only Morris' word for it--Louiseremaining smilingly reticent on the point--when, in the eighth, withthree Lesterville players on bases and only one out, Harry Bryan andPete Robey executed a lightning double-play that retired the sidewithout a tally, Mr. Brent's voice was to be heard with the others thatwent up in a shout of delight! And even Louise affirmed that, in thetenth inning, when Gordon rapped out the single that sent Harry Bryanacross with the winning run Mr. Brent pounded approvingly with his caneand declared that "that Merrick boy was a smart one!"
Ten to nine was the final tally and Dick and Harold Townsend, who hadsat beside the manager during the entire game and kept a perfectlycorrect score--barring a mistake or two quickly set right by asurreptitious glance at Dick's columns--closed their score-books withdelighted slams. Revenge is sweet, and this had been fairly won.
Later on Louise, Morris, Dick, Gordon and the unescapable Haroldjourneyed together by trolley car to the Point and talked the game overwith a wealth of detail and enthusiasm. There was a very merry party atthe Brents' cottage that evening. Mr. Brent pretended to have found thegame very tiresome and declared that he didn't see any sense in grown-upboys wasting their time on such nonsense, and the young folks, and Mrs.Brent, too, she having heard of her husband's doings, pretended thatthey believed him. After dinner Gordon, who had failed to get his swimin the ocean before, borrowed Morris' suit and went in by moonlight. Thecottage almost overhung the waves and the others, on the veranda,watched him glide in and out of the moon's path and supplied him with alot of doubtless excellent advice on the subject of swimming. Stilllater, with Gordon once more among them, Louise brought out her mandolinand they sang songs. Attracted by the music, Loring Townsend and CasparBillings joined the company and added their voices to the chorus. Thenthey talked some more; of the day's game, of the next Saturday'simportant contest--and the _Reporter's_ latest efforts--of school and adozen other things.
Dick and Gordon got the last car back to Clearfield, both comfortablytired and sleepy, and Gordon walked home with Dick. It was just beforethey reached the Levering gate that Dick sprung a surprise on hisfriend.
"I've been thinking," announced Dick, "that there's one mighty good usewe can put our money to, Gordie."
"What money?" asked Gordon, with a yawn.
"Why, the money we've made on the games. You see, if we have the crowdnext week that Potter thinks we'll have we ought to be about two hundredand fifty dollars in pocket."
"Easy! Then what?"
"Present it to the Athletic Committee to build a track on the new field.How's that for a scheme?"
"Why--er--oh, that's fine!" But Gordon's tone didn't sound terriblyenthusiastic!
Mr. Potter's prediction came true. By Monday Clearfield was undeniablybaseball-mad. Even middle-aged and serious-minded merchants discussedthe probable outcome of the third game between the home team and thePointers when they met each other on the street or when they hobnobbedover the Fifty Cent Merchant's Lunch at Martin's Cafe. The youngerelement of the town was wrought up to a fine pitch of excitement. Thoseof its sterner sex who could do so went out to watch the Clearfield teampractice in the afternoon, while the gentler sex, especially those withHigh School affiliations, became wildly partisan. A dozen or more girls,led by Grace Lovering, got together and manufactured a gorgeous pennantof purple and white silk, some four feet long, which, when completed,was hung behind the silver trophy in Wetherell's window and, like thehandsome cup, was to be presented to the winner. It was Lanny who madethe suggestion that the pennant was much too good looking to become theproperty of the Pointers and that it should be a perpetual trophy to beplayed for each year. The girls approved the suggestion and the_Reporter_ amended its previous statement regarding the flag. Thetrolley company announced a fare of one-half the usual rate for theround-trip on Saturday between Clearfield and near-by towns, and, whileMr. Potter failed to prevail on the Mayor to declare a public holiday,he did persuade the shop-keepers to agree to close their places ofbusiness between the hours of two and five. As a matter of fact, withfew exceptions all of them were glad to do so, for they wanted to seethat game as much as anyone!
There was usually a crowd in front of Wetherell's jewelry store thatweek. In the front row one found a half-dozen or so of small urchinswith their noses pressed closely against the plate-glass, while behindthem stood a scattering of older persons admiring, criticizing andaudibly reading the engraved inscription which informed the world thatthe cup was to be "Presented by the Retail Merchants of Clearfield tothe ---- Baseball Club, Winners of the Clearfield Championship,September Third, Nineteen Hundred and----." It was a very attractiveaffair, that trophy; twelve inches high, with a fluted base and twoscrolled handles and a polished ebony stand beneath it. It was generallyconceded that the merchants had done themselves proud. The _Reporter_gave a picture of it and a half-column list of those who had subscribed.
The town was liberally scattered with the red and green posters onMonday. They glared and shouted at one from every window. One was notallowed to forget for an instant that on the following Saturdayafternoon the greatest and most important athletic event in the historyof Clearfield was to be witnessed at the High School Field for theridiculously moderate price of fifty cents--or seventy-five if youwanted to be sure of a seat!
All this in spite of the fact that from every indication there would beno field to play on!
Mr. Potter was at Dick's at a quarter past seven that morning. He wasfilled with dismay and wrath, and some of the things he said about Mr.Jonathan Brent would not look at all nice in print! At seven-thirty-fivehe hurried away to find Mr. Brent. At a few minutes before nine he wasback again, literally frothing at the mouth.
"Say!" he almost shouted in response to Dick's anxious query. "Say! Hedidn't say a thing! He let me talk my head off, that is all he did! Itold him that public opinion would be against him if he allowed thatfield to be demolished before the game, that Clearfield would be up inarms, that the _Reporter_ would deal editorially with the matter and notmince its words!" Mr. Potter faltered then.
"What did he say to that?" asked Dick. "He must have said something!"
"He
said," replied the newspaper man subduedly, "that he controlledthree-fifths of the stock of the _Reporter_ and he guessed the paperwouldn't be too hard on him!"
Dick grinned. "Does he?"
Mr. Potter nodded sheepishly. "Yes, but I'd forgotten it. After that Ihad to--well, I had to tone down a bit. I asked him if it wouldn't bepossible to delay work on the field until after Saturday. I told himabout all the advertising that had been done and how everyone waslooking forward to the game and all that, you know."
"Yes? And he wouldn't agree?"
"He said, 'Young man, get out!' Just that and not another word!"
"Then I guess it's all off," said Dick regretfully. "It's too bad. Ofcourse, we might play the game at the Point----"
"We couldn't get the crowd over there. No, sir, it's got to be playedhere. You're certain there isn't another field anywhere?"
"Absolutely certain."
"Then there's just one thing to be done. It's a last resort and itdoesn't promise well, but I'll try it."
"What?" asked Dick.
Mr. Potter sank his voice. "See the contractor," he said, "and buy himoff. For a hundred dollars----"
"A hundred dollars!" exclaimed his hearer. "Where'd we get it?"
"Pshaw, we'll clear up two hundred easy if we can pull the game off!"
"Well," replied Dick doubtfully, "but even so I don't believe Mullinwould dare to do it."
"Supposing, though, his men went on strike?" suggested the other with awink. "He couldn't help himself then, could he?"
"N-no, but--I don't like it, Mr. Potter. It's pretty under-hand, itseems to me. After all, we don't _have_ to play that game, and----"
"Don't have to! You bet you have to! Look at that cup! Look at all theprinting we've done; posters, score-cards, tickets! Look at----" Butwords failed him and he seized his hat from the table. "Here, I've gotto get busy! That Irishman may be plowing up the field right now! Seeyou later, Lovering!"
And Mr. Potter dashed off again.
Lanny called up a few minutes later to ask about developments and afterthat Tom Haley wanted information. Dick had no hopeful news to impart,however. Gordon and Fudge came around just as Dick was starting for thePoint--by way of Brentwood--and walked with him as far as the corner ofA Street. There Gordon drew Fudge back and reminded him that three was acrowd. Dick had the grace to blush.
"Oh, come on," he said awkwardly. "Don't be a silly chump!"
"Thanks," murmured Gordon sweetly, "but we wouldn't think of intruding.Come along, Fudge."
"Wh-wh-what's up?" asked Fudge when Dick had gone on. "Wh-why didn't youw-w-want to go along?"
"I can't explain," replied Gordon gently. "You're too young, Fudge, tohear such things."
Whereupon Fudge impolitely requested Gordon to "ch-ch-chase himself!"
Mr. Potter was back again after lunch, mildly incensed at Dick becausehe hadn't been able to find him before. "Say, there's something funnyabout this business," he confided, sinking into a chair on the porch andmopping his forehead vigorously. "I went over to the field after I leftyou this morning and there wasn't a thing doing. You said Mullin lefthis wagon there, didn't you?" Dick nodded. "Well, it's gone now. I triedto get him on the 'phone and his wife said he was out of town. What doyou make of that?"
Dick shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe Mr. Brent thought better of itafter you left him. You're certain the wagon was gone?"
"Sure! I walked all around the field and went inside. There wasn't ascratch there and there wasn't even a wheelbarrow in sight outside. Now,what does that mean? I'd call the old chap up and ask him, only--well,frankly, Lovering, I'm afraid I'll lose my job! I suppose you wouldn'twant to get him on the telephone and ask him about it?"
"I'd a lot rather not," owned Dick. "I guess I'm just about as scared ofhim as you are."
"But he can't hurt you! With me it's different. If he ever tells StevensI went to his office and read the riot-act to him Stevens will hand me aticket and a week's pay!"
"I guess Gordon would do it if I asked him to," said Dick after amoment's thought. "I'll see if I can find him on the 'phone."
But Gordon was not at home. Mrs. Merrick said she believed he had gonesomewhere with Fudge.
"I'll see him at four o'clock," said Dick. "I told the fellows we'd meetat the field and hold practice if we could find room there. I don't seewhy--Excuse me a minute, will you?"
The telephone had rung and Dick took his crutches again and once moreswung himself into the house.
"This you, Dick?" asked the voice at the other end of the line. "This isMorris. Say, Dick, I had a funny message from my dad a few minutes ago.He telephoned from the office. 'You can tell that Merrick boy,' says he,'that he can go on and use the field. Tell him to come and see meWednesday. I'm going to Hartford at three and I'll be back Wednesdaynoon.' That's great, isn't it?"
"Fine! Do you suppose he means that we can have it until after Saturday,Morris?"
"Sure! Anyway, it sounds so, doesn't it? And his wanting to see Gordonmakes it look that way, too. I've been trying to find Gordon, but hismother says he's out somewhere. If you see him get him to call me uphere at the Point, Dick."
"I will. That's bully news, Morris, and your father's a brick! I've justbeen talking with Mr. Potter. He's all het up about it," laughed Dick."He will be tickled to death! So long, Morris, and thanks. I'll tellGordon when I see him about four."
Dick hung up the receiver and went back to the porch to be confronted byMr. Potter's eager and questioning countenance.
"I couldn't help hearing what you said," he exclaimed. "Has he comearound?"
"I think so. He telephoned Morris to tell Gordon that we could go on anduse the field and that Gordon was to call and see him on Wednesday. He'sgoing to Hartford this afternoon. I guess it's all right."
Mr. Potter heaved a vast sigh of relief. "Well, I hope so. I want to putthis thing through now that I've started, Lovering. I'll breathe easier,though, when I hear for certain. If he changes his mind again aboutWednesday we'll be in a worse pickle than ever!"
"I don't think he will, Mr. Potter. I guess he's concluded to let us usethe field. If he hadn't Mullin would be at work this minute. If I wereyou, though, I'd hear what Mullin says."
"I will, just as soon as he gets home." Mr. Potter looked at his watchand jumped to his feet. "I must be off. Say, that's a load off my mind,all right! Now I'll go ahead and close with Nagel for the music. Hewants twenty dollars for two hours. I guess that's fair enough. By theway, can you let me have your batting-list to-morrow? We want to printthose score-cards about Wednesday. And, say, if you hear anything morecall me up at the office. If I'm not there they'll take a message. Bye!"
"I wonder," mused Gordon when Dick met him at practice an hour later,"what he wants to see me about."
"Well, it's about the field, I suppose," said Dick. "Don't look sofrightened, Gordie. He won't eat you!"
Gordon laughed and then shook his head ruefully. "I know, but that manscares me to death. I don't know why, either. He's always been as niceas pie to me. I guess it's his eyes. They sort of go right through youand come out the other side!"
There was a big crowd of onlookers there that afternoon and theClearfield Baseball Club performed to enthusiastic applause. Dick hadsought to arrange a game for Wednesday afternoon but had found no teamthat could or would play them, which was a matter of regret sinceClearfield needed harder practice than it could get without an opponent.Rutter's Point, which had been playing two games a week steadily, was tomeet Logan on Wednesday at the Point.
"I wish we had got them," said Dick. "They'd give us just about the sortof a game we need."
"Maybe," suggested Jack Tappen, "they'd swap dates with us if we askedthem. They won't get any money at the Point, you know."
"Yes, they will," piped up Harold, who had come over to watch practiceat Dick's invitation. "They pass a hat around and sometimes get ten ortwelve dollars."
"Anyway, I don't care to do a thing like that," said Dick. "It wou
ldn'tbe exactly square, I guess."
"I'll tell you what!" exclaimed Harold.
"Go ahead," said Jack. "You're full of information, kid."
"Well," said Harold, pausing long enough to regard Jack with a look ofdisdain, "why don't you play them in the morning?"
"By jove!" said Lanny.
"'Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings!'" murmured Jack. "Kid,you're all right!"
"We might," pondered Dick. "They're coming over anyway, and I dare saythey'd just as lief come in the morning as later. I'll get hold of thatcaptain of theirs this evening and see what he says."
"Tell 'em we'll pay their fares both ways," suggested Will Scott.
"Sure thing; and buy them a lunch," agreed Way.
"They'll do it," said Gordon. "Make the game at ten-thirty, Dick."
"Better say eleven. They could hardly get over here before half-pastten. Well, I'll get after them as soon as I get home. Harold, you are ayouth of ideas!"
And Harold smiled proudly.
The Lucky Seventh Page 21
