Part 10 (2/2)

”Certainly, my boy,” replied the wealthy, retired lawyer. ”I'm glad, indeed, to hear that you have any ambitions. Come into the library, if you can let your luncheon go that long.”

”If you don't mind, Dad, I'd rather eat while I talk,” urged Fred.

”I have to be back at school before three.”

”What---under discipline?” inquired the lawyer.

”No, sir; it's baseball that I wish to talk about.”

”Well, then, Fred, what is it?” asked his father.

”Why, sir, we're going to get together on baseball, this afternoon.

The start for the season is to be made early this year. Gridley expects to put forth the finest High School nine ever.”

”I'm glad to hear that,” nodded the lawyer. ”School and college athletics, rightly indulged in, give the budding man health, strength, courage and discipline to take with him out into the battle of life. We didn't have much in the way of athletics when I was at college, but I appreciate the modern tendency more than do some men of my age.”

Fred, though not interested in his father's praise of athletics waited patiently until his parent had finished.

”I'm pretty sure, Dad, I can make the chance of being the star pitcher on the school team for this coming season, if only you'll back me up in it.”

”Why, as far as that goes,” replied Lawyer Ripley, ”I believe that about all the benefits of school athletics can be gained by one who isn't necessarily right at the top of the crowd.”

”But not to go to the top of the crowd, and not to try too, Dad, is contrary to the spirit of athletics,” argued Fred, rather cleverly.

”Besides, one of the best things about athletics, I think, is the spirit to fight for leaders.h.i.+p. That's a useful lesson---leaders.h.i.+p---to carry out into life, isn't it, sir?”

”Yes, it is; you're right about that, son,” nodded the lawyer.

”Well, sir, Everett, one of the crack pitchers of national fame, is over in Duxbridge for the winter. He doesn't go south with his team for practice until the middle or latter part of February.

Duxbridge is only twelve miles from here. He could come over here, or you could let your man take me over to Duxbridge in your auto. Dad, I want to be the pitcher of the crack battery in the school nine. Will you engage Everett, or let me hire him, to train me right from the start in all the best styles of pitching?”

”How much would it cost?” asked the lawyer, cautiously.

”I don't know exactly, sir. A few hundred dollars, probably.”

Fred's face was glowing with eagerness. His mother, who was standing just behind him, nodded encouragingly at her husband.

”Well, yes, Fred, if you're sure you can make yourself the star pitcher of the school nine, I will.”

”When may I go to see Everett, sir?” asked Fred, making no effort to conceal the great joy this promise had given him.

”Since you're to be engaged for this afternoon, Fred, we'll make it to-morrow. I'll order out the car and go over to Duxbridge with you.”.

It was in the happiest possible frame of mind, for him, that Fred Ripley went back to the High School that afternoon. He didn't arrive until five minutes before the hour for calling the meeting; he didn't care to be of the common crowd that would be on hand at or soon after two-thirty.

When he entered, he found a goodly and noisy crowd of some eighty High School boys of the three upper cla.s.ses present. Ripley nodded to a few with whom he was on the best terms.

Settees had been placed at one end of the gym. There was an aisle between two groups of these seats.

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