The Rival Pitchers: A Story of College Baseball
CHAPTER XXIV
DRESS SUITS COME HIGH
So after all, Tom did not get the last half of the last waltz with MissTyler. He did not much care, however, for, as matters turned out, he hada longer time in her company. The girl soon recovered her usual spiritsand the walk to where she was stopping with relatives in Haddonfieldseemed all too short to Tom.
"Will you be at the game Saturday?" he asked as they were about to part.
"What game?"
"Over at Fairview. Our team is going to try and run up a big scoreagainst them."
"I hadn't thought of going."
"Then won't you please think now?" pleaded Tom, with an odd air ofpatheticness, at which Miss Tyler laughed gaily.
"Well, perhaps I shan't find that so _very_ difficult," she replied.
"And if you think real hard, can you get a mental picture of your humbleservant taking you to that game?" Tom was very much in earnest, thoughhis air was bantering.
"Well," she answered tantalizingly, "I do seem to see a sort of hazypainting to that effect."
"Good! It will grow more distinct with time. I'll call for you, then. Anumber of the boys are going to charter a little steamer and sail downthe river, and into the lake. We'll land at a point about four milesfrom Fairview, and go over in some automobiles."
"That will be jolly!"
"I'm glad you think so. Is the picture any clearer?"
"Oh, yes, much so. I think the autos have cleared away the mist. Aren'twe silly, though?" she asked.
"Not a bit of it," declared Tom stoutly. "I'll be on hand here for you,then, shortly after lunch on Saturday."
"Is the nine going that way?"
Tom felt a sudden suspicion. Was she asking because she wanted to knowwhether Langridge would be in the party of merrymakers?
"No, I think they're going in a big stage."
"I thought maybe you might want to be with the nine," she went on, andTom saw that he had misunderstood. "You might get a chance to pitch,"and she looked at him.
"No such luck," replied Tom, trying to speak cheerfully, but finding ithard work. "Well, I'll say good-night, or, rather, good-morning. When Iwrite home I must tell my folks about meeting you here."
"Yes, do. I've already written to mine, telling what a fine time I'mhaving."
Tom was rather thoughtful on his way home. He stumbled into his darkroom, nearly falling over something.
"What's the matter?" asked Sid, who was in bed.
"That's what I want to know," replied Tom, striking a match. "Why don'tyou keep your patent leathers out of the middle of the floor?" hedemanded.
"I did, Tommy, me lad, as Bricktop Molloy would say, but I had to throwthem out there later."
"How's that?"
"Mice. Two of the cute little chaps sitting in the middle of the floor,eating some nuts that dropped out of my pocket. I stretched out on thebed without undressing when I came in from the dance, and must havefallen asleep, with the light burning. When I woke up I saw the micestaring at me, and I heaved my shoes at the beggars, for I'd taken 'emoff--my shoes, I mean--when I came in, as my feet hurt from dancing somuch. Then I doused the glim and turned in, for I knew you wouldn't bealong until daylight."
"Why not?"
"Oh, I saw you going off with her. I admire your taste, old man, but itmust be hard on Langridge."
"It's his own fault."
"So I understand. I heard about it."
"Um," murmured Tom, for he did not want to talk about Miss Tyler and heraffairs--at least not yet. There are some things that one likes toponder over, and think about--all alone.
The game with Fairview was looked forward to with more than ordinaryinterest, for the season was about half over, and a partial estimatecould be made of the chances for the championship. Up to this time thethree teams in the league had been running nearly even, with Randall, ifanything, a trifle in the lead, not so much regarding the number ofgames won, but counting form. In the last two weeks, however, Fairviewand Boxer had been doing some hard work, and in games between thosecolleges Fairview had some the best of it. If, on the occasion that wasapproaching, Randall won, it would put her nine in the lead, and if, onthe contrary, she lost it would mean that she would be the "tail-ender,"though only a few points behind Boxer, which would be second.
"We've just got to win!" declared Sid, one afternoon, following asevere game with the scrub, who had played the 'varsity to a tie ineleven innings.
"That's right," admitted the coach. "But I think we will. We haveimproved all around lately."
This was true, more especially in the case of Langridge. Since theaffair of the junior dance he had not spoken to Tom, and had taken painsto avoid him. But the 'varsity pitcher was certainly doing better work.
The day before the game with Fairview, Coach Lighton called Tom to oneside.
"I think you had better prepare to go as a sub to-morrow," he said.
"Why, is Langridge----" burst out Tom, a wild hope filling his heart.
"No, it isn't our pitcher. But I understand Sid is falling back in hisLatin, and he may not be allowed to play. In that case I'll have to dosome shifting, and I _may_ be able to give you a place in the field."
"Well, I don't want to see Sid left, but I would like a chance."
Tom was in rather a quandary. He had arranged to take Miss Tyler, and hecould not, if he went with the team as a sub. He hardly knew what to doabout it, and was on the point of going over to see her, and explain,when Sid came bursting into the room.
"Blood! blood! I want blood!" he cried as he threw his Latin grammaragainst the wall with such force that the covers came off.
"What ho! most worthy knight!" replied Tom gently. "In sooth, gentlesir, what hath befallen thee?"
"Heaps!" replied Sid. "Oh, Pitchfork, would I had thee here!" and hewadded up the table cover, and pretended to choke it.
"What now?" asked Tom.
"Oh, he put me through a course of sprouts for further orders thisafternoon," explained Sid. "Thought he'd catch me, but I managed towiggle through. Nearly gave me heart disease, though, for fear I'd haveto be out of the game to-morrow. But I managed to save myself, much tothe surprise of Pitchfork. Now I want my revenge on him."
"What can you do?"
"I don't know--nothing, I guess. I wish--hold on!" Sid struck athoughtful attitude, looked fixedly at the floor, then at the ceiling,and finally cried: "Eureka!"
"Has some one been playing hob with your crown?" asked Tom, referring tothe exclamation said to have been made by the ancient king, when hediscovered, in his bath, a means of finding out if his jeweler hadcheated him.
"No, but I've found a way to get even with Pitchfork."
"How?"
"Listen, and I will a tale unfold--a spike-tail at that. When I wascoming in from recitation, disgusted with life in general, and with theRoman view of it, particularly, I met Wallops the messenger. He had abundle under his arm, and you know what a talker he is. Confided to methat he was taking Pitchfork's best suit to the tailor's to be pressed,and his dress-suit to have new buttons put on, and some other fixingsdone. Pitchfork is going to a swell reception to-night, and will wearhis glad rags. All he has now is his classroom suit, and you know whatthat is--all chalk and chemical stains when he goes into the laboratoryonce in a while on the relief shift."
"I don't seem to follow you."
"You will soon. See, as it stands now Pitchfork is without a decent suithe can wear, and he's such a peculiar build that no other professor'sgarments will fit him."
"Well?"
"Well, when he wants his dress-suit to go to the blow-out to-night, he'sgoing to learn something new."
"What's that?"
"Just this. That dress-suits come high this time of the year! It'sgoing to be the best joke yet. Now, ladies and gentlemen, with yourkind permission and attention I will endeavor to give you a correctimitation of Professor Pitchfork hunting high and low for his gladrags--particularly high. I will roll back my cuffs, to show yo
u that Ihave nothing concealed up my sleeves. Now, commodore, a little slowmusic, please," and Sid, who had assumed the role of a vaudevilleperformer, pretended to nod to an imaginary leader of an orchestra.