“All right—only don’t stand up to the ball yourself.” Durant strolled away.
“I wish old Tom Sheldon were here; he would n’t have been so fussy,” muttered Payne. “When was Durant elected captain—only yesterday, was n’t he? What’s he trying to do—show his authority?”
“No, he’s all right; I might get hurt, I suppose. I guess Keat sees the idea. Try again, Keat.”
But neither that day nor on subsequent days, when Edward supervised his friend’s batting, did Keating display any improvement.
“I guess I’ll just have to swipe at the ball and trust to luck,” Keating said at last disconsolately. “If I could sometime make one good hit, so as to have some confidence! ”
But he went through the Pythian-Corinthian series without ever achieving that single hit; his position at the foot of the batting list was assured.
The days grew warm; it was the most pleasant season of all the school year. With the scent of the lilacs coming through the