The picnickers who went out to the park early in the day were driven for refuge from the blazing sun to the trees and bushes, where prostrated by the heat they lay limp and flaccid upon the grass. Miss Hazel Sleighter, who for some reason which she could not explain to herself had joined the first contingent of picnickers, was cross, distinctly and obviously cross. The heat was trying to her nerves, but worse, it made her face red--red all over. Her pink parasol intensified the glow upon her face.
"What a fool I was to come, in this awful heat," she said to herself. "They won't be here for hours, and I will be just like a wash-rag."Nor was Larry enjoying the picnic. The material comforts in the form of sandwiches, cakes and pies, gloriously culminating in lemonade and ice cream, while contributing a temporary pleasure, could not obliterate a sense of misery wrought in him by Miss Hazel's chilly indifference. That young lady, whose smiles so lavishly bestowed only yesterday had made for him a new heaven and a new earth, had to-day merely thrown him a passing glance and a careless "Hello," as she floated by intent on bigger game.
In addition, the boy was conscious of an overpowering lassitude that increased as the day wore on. His misery and its chief cause had not escaped the observing eyes of the little maid, Jane Brown, whose clear and incisive voice was distinctly audible as she confided to her friend Nora her disappointment in Miss Hazel.
"She won't look at him to-day," she said. "She's just waiting for the boys to come. She'll be nicer then."There was no animus in the voice, only surprise and disappointment.
To Larry, however, the fact that the secret tragedy of his soul was thus laid bare, filled him with a sudden rage. He cast a wrathful eye upon the little maid. She met his glance with a placid smile, volunteering the cheerful remark, "They won't be long now."A fury possessed the boy. "Oh shut your mouth, will you?" he said, glaring at her.
For a moment little Jane looked at him, surprise, dismay, finally pity succeeding each other in the deep blue eyes. Hastily she glanced about to see if the others had heard the awful outburst.
She was relieved to note that only Joe and Nora were near enough to hear. She settled herself down in a position of greater comfort and confided to her friend Nora with an air of almost maternal solicitude, "I believe he has a pain. I am sure he has a pain."Larry sprang to his feet, and without a glance at his anxious tormentor said, "Come on, Joe, let's go for a hunt in the woods."Jane looked wistfully after the departing boys. "I wish they would ask us, Nora. Don't you? I think he is nice when he isn't mad,"she said. To which Nora firmly assented.
A breeze from the west and the arrival of the High School team, resplendent in their new baseball uniforms, brought to the limp loiterers under the trees a reviving life and interest in the day's doings.
It was due to Jane that Sam got into the game, for when young Frank Smart was searching for a suitable left fielder to complete the All Comers team, he spied seated among the boys the little girl.
"Hello, Jane; in your usual place, I see!" he called out to her as he passed.
"Hello, Frank!" she called to him brightly. "Frank! Frank!" she cried, after the young man had passed, springing up and running after him.
"I am in a hurry, Jane; I must get a man for left field.""But, Frank," she said, catching his arm, for young Smart was a great friend of hers and of her father's. "I want to tell you.
You see that funny boy under the tree," she continued, lowering her voice. "Well, he's a splendid player. Tom doesn't want him to play, and I don't either, because I want the High School to beat.
But it would not be fair not to tell you, would it?"Young Smart looked at her curiously. "Say, little girl, you're a sport. And is he a good player?""Oh, he's splendid, but he's queer--I mean he looks queer. He's awfully funny. But that doesn't matter, does it?""Not a hair, if he can play ball. What's his name?""Sam--something."
"Sam Something? That is a funny name."
"Oh, you know, Sam. I don't know his other name.""Well, I'll try him, Jane," said young Smart, moving toward the boy and followed by the eager eyes of the little girl.
"I say, Sam," said Smart, "we want a man for left field. Will you take a go at it?""Too hot," grunted Sam.
"Oh, you won't find it too hot when you get started. Rip off your coat and get into the game. You can play, can't you?""Aw, what yer givin' us. I guess I can give them ginks a few pointers.""Well, come on."
"Too hot," said Sam.
Jane pulled young Smart by the sleeve. "Tell him you will give him a jersey," she said in a low voice. "His shirt is torn."Again young Smart looked at Jane with scrutinising eyes. "You're a wonder," he said.
"Come along, Sam. You haven't got your sweater with you, but Iwill get one for you. Get into the bush there and change."With apparent reluctance, but with a gleam in his little red eyes, Sam slouched into the woods to make the change, and in a few moments came forth and ran to take his position at left field.
