tended to. "You won't mind me speaking about it, for I've known you so many years."
"Oh, I'm not so ancient as all that!" exclaimed the girl rather pertly.
"No," admitted Tom, and he felt that he was getting into deep water and beyond his depth. But he would not retreat and floundered on: "No, but I—I know your folks wouldn't like you to go with Langridge—that is, too much, you know. He does not bear a very good"
There was a hand on Tom's shoulder, and he felt himself wheeled suddenly around, to be confronted by Langridge. The pitcher had brushed his uniform and looked particularly handsome in a well-fitting suit, while there was a healthy glow to his face.
"Perhaps you'd better repeat over again, Parsons," he said somewhat sternly, "what you were just saying to Miss Tyler about me. I didn't catch it all!"
"I—er—I" Tom was choking, and the girl bravely came to his relief.
"We were just talking about you," she admitted with a nervous little laugh. "I was saying how disheartening it must be to pitch through a hard game and then lose it. And Tom—I mean Mr. Parsons, but I always call him Tom, for I've known him so long—he was just saying—er—he was just saying that you were rather—well, rather a flirt. I believe
