that was it, wasn't it, Tom?" and she looked quickly at him, but there was meaning in her glance.
Langridge kept his hand on Tom's shoulder and the two looked each other straight in the face unflinchingly. Miss Tyler lost some of her blushes and her cheeks began to pale. Then Tom spoke quietly.
"If you wish to know exactly what I said," was his quiet but tense answer, "I will tell you—later," and he swung on his heel and started down the grandstand steps.
For an instant Langridge stared after him. Then, with a little laugh, he turned to Miss Tyler.
"Poor Parsons is sore because he's been suspended," he said. "He can't even pitch on the scrub. But how pretty you're looking to-day, Miss Madge."
"Miss Tyler, please," she corrected him.
"Mayn't I even call you Miss Madge after IVe been defeated in the game?" he pleaded, and he looked at her boldly. "It would be—er—well, sort of soothing to me."
"Would it?" and she laughed lightly.
"It surely would," and he bent closer toward her.
"Well, then, you may—but only on occasions of defeat."
"Then I'm going to lose every game," he added
