"No, sir. We're going to lease a piece of ground out toward the Point, but we haven't got it yet, and, anyway, it isn't ready for playing on."

"Too bad," said Mr. Brent sympathetically. "But, really, Merrick, you ought not to ask me to stop work in order that you can play baseball.

That-that's a little too much, eh?"

"I suppose so, sir," acknowledged Gordon dejectedly. "Only-we thought-maybe a half a day wouldn't make much difference--"

"A half a day might make a lot of difference. Minutes count, my boy.

You'll learn that some day. No, no, I can't interfere with Mullin. It's his job. If he wants to accommodate you, all right, but you mustn't expect me to interfere in his affairs, Merrick. Sorry. I'd like to oblige you."

Gordon stared at the pavement. Mr. Brent coughed, turned away and hesitated. "Well, good-day, Merrick," he said finally.

"Mr. Brent!" Gordon raised his head, his cheeks rather red. "Mr. Brent, you said once that-that if I ever wanted a favor-you--"

"Hm; yes, I know I did."

"Well, sir, I'd like awfully to have you do this for us."

"Think that will square accounts, Merrick?"

"Why-why, you don't owe me anything, sir," stammered Gordon, "but you said--"

"Yes, and I'll keep my word." Mr. Brent sighed and looked regretfully down the street. "All right. Come on, then. I'll walk over with you and see what can be done."

"Thank you," Gordon murmured as he fell into step beside the man.

"It-it's awfully good of you, sir."

"H'm," replied Mr. Brent dryly. "You evidently don't value your service to me very highly, Merrick. It doesn't occur to you, apparently, that you might ask a good deal more than this in return for what you did for Morris."

"I-I never meant to ask for anything," murmured Gordon.

"Hm. More fool you, then!"

There was no more conversation. Mr. Brent walked briskly and it was but a minute or two after three when they reached the field. It was evident that they had got there none too soon, for the big gates halfway along the board fence were open and a wagon with a plow in it was drawn partly through it. That it was not all the way through was due to the fact that the audience, or a good part of it, had gathered at the point of attack and was doing its best to repel the contractor's men. Shouts and jeers and laughter came from the scene. At the ticket gate young Tim Turner, afraid to leave his post of duty, was peering longingly toward the turmoil. Mr. Brent strode more quickly.

"Hm," he said, "I don't see that I was needed much, Merrick."

Mullin, the contractor, very red of face and angry of eye, was berating the jeering crowd with the rough side of his tongue. Five laborers, two of them clutching the bridles of the horses, looked ready and eager for a fight. At sight of Mr. Brent a cheer went up from the crowd inside the gates, and d.i.c.k, anxious-eyed, fell back from where he had been vainly trying to avert trouble. Mr. Brent walked up to the contractor.

"Get out, Mullin," he said. "Leave it until Monday."

Mullin scowled hard. "An' who'll pay me for the time I'll be losin', Mr.

Brent?" he demanded angrily.

"I will," was the reply. "You ought to have seen, anyway, that the field was being used. Get your team out now. I'll settle for your loss."

"That's all right, then," replied the contractor. "All I wants is me rights. Back 'em out, Jerry." And amidst the jeers of the spectators Mullin and his men retired, the gates were closed again and barred and, laughing and jostling, the defenders hurried back to secure their seats before others appropriated them, leaving d.i.c.k and the ball players and a few still curious ones at the gate. Among the latter was Morris, and it was Morris who, grinning broadly, came forward on his crutches.

"Good stuff, dad," he said approvingly.

Mr. Brent viewed him without enthusiasm. "You here?" he asked. "Where is your sister?"

"In the stand, sir. I--"

"You'd better go back and look after her, it seems to me," said Mr.

Brent grimly. Morris's grin faded and, with a wink at Gordon, he hobbled back toward the seats.

"We're awfully much obliged, sir," said d.i.c.k. "If it hadn't been for all these people, who had paid to see the game--"

"Of course. I understand. You needn't thank me. Thank Merrick."

The players went back to their places, Lesterville to the diamond to finish her warming up, and Clearfield to the bench. Gordon was left practically alone with Mr. Brent, even d.i.c.k deserting him. From beyond the fence came the angry bellow of the contractor's orders. "Leave the team here, Jerry," he was saying. "We'll be back Monday, an' I'd like to see the man that'll be stoppin' me then!"

"Wouldn't you like to see the game, Mr. Brent, now that you're here?"

asked Gordon at last. He ought to be with his team-mates, but he didn't want to walk away and leave Mr. Brent standing alone there by the gate.

The latter, who had been looking curiously at the renewed activity of the Lesterville players, now glanced at his watch, grunted and nodded.

"I might as well stay awhile," he replied. "Where do you pay?"

"You needn't pay, sir. We're glad to have you see the game."

"I prefer to pay," was the reply as Mr. Brent followed Gordon toward the stand. "Here, son!" He had caught sight of Tim Turner at the ticket gate and walked across to him. "What's the price?"

"T-Twenty-five cents, sir," stammered Tim.

Mr. Brent found two dimes and a nickel among his change, handed them to the awed Tim and went on. "Where's Morris?" he asked. "I'll sit with him a few minutes."

Gordon didn't know where Morris was, but he called to d.i.c.k and d.i.c.k pointed him out. Then Gordon piloted Mr. Brent up the stand and by dint of much moving and shoving a place was made for him and Gordon, muttering his thanks again and getting a non-committal nod from Mr.

Brent, took himself off.

"I'm so glad, papa," said Louise gratefully. "It would have been horrid if they couldn't have played the game, wouldn't it?"

"Would it?" Mr. Brent smiled and settled his cane between his knees.

"Who are those young fellows out there, Morris?"

"Those are the Lesterville players, sir. They're warming up for the game."

"Warming up, eh? Then the game hasn't begun yet?"

"No, sir. They're coming in now, though. It will start in a minute."

"Need all this room for a game of ball, do they?"

"Why, of course, papa," replied Louise. "Sometimes they hit the ball way over by the further fence there!"

"That so? Well, let's see 'em do it!"