"Quite some class to those Trinity School lads," remarked Tom. "It's a swell place—a lot of millionaires' sons go there I understand."
"Yes, but I hobnobbed with some of 'em, and they weren't a bit uppish. Right good fellows, I thought."
"Oh, yes, all millionaire lads aren't cads though money sometimes makes a chap that way. Trinity must be quite a school."
"I guess it is, but Excelsior is good enough for me. We're in with a dandy crowd of fellows, though, and that makes it nice if you've got to play a lot of games with 'em. Nothing like class when it comes to sport. We ought to have some corking good games this Summer."
"I only wish you and I were more in it," went on Tom.
"Wait until we see about the scrub," suggested his chum. "I'm not worrying as much as I was at first."
But, though Joe thus lightly passed over the matter, deep down in his heart there was a great longing. To him baseball meant more than to the average player. From the time when he had seen his first game, as a little chap, our hero had fairly lived, eaten and slept in an atmosphere of the diamond. He had organized a team of lads
