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 one who knows something about pitching?"

"Reckon he knows they wouldn't bother with him. Thinks because Pinky's got it into his old bean that he can make a catcher of me that I can spot a Mathewson or a Mays with my eyes shut. I appreciate his faith in me and all that, Ned, and it wounds me sorely that my own kith and kin—meaning you, old dear—haven't the same—er—boundless trust in my ability, but, just between the two of us, I don't know a curve from a drop yet, and if I can stop one with my mitt I'm as pleased as anything and don't care a continental whether the silly thing stays in said mitt or doesn't. Frankly, I'm plumb convinced that Pinky had a brain-storm when he dragged me in from the outfield and stuck me behind a wire bird-*cage!"

"Oh, I guess he knows his business," responded Ned. "Anyhow, you've got to do your best. If you don't I'll lick the daylight out of you."

"Don't you mean into me?" asked Laurie sweetly. "Seems to me that ought to be the proper phrase. Having, as I understand physiology, no daylight in me, to start with—"

"Oh, shut up! I mean what I say, though. We