“Well, I’ll go with you,” returned Sam.  “I did think we might go on some kind of an outing during July and August, but it wouldn’t be fair to take the time off and leave Dick at the grind alone.”

“Of course, I think we ought to go home first,” continued Tom, after a pause.  “The folks will want to see us, and, besides, we will want to talk matters over with dad, and also with Uncle Randolph.  They may want to tell us something about the business.”

“Do you think that Uncle Randolph had much money invested with father?”

“I don’t know exactly what to think, Sam.  Uncle Randolph is very peculiar, and since father has been sick again, he has not wanted to talk matters over very much.  We will have to be careful of what we say when we get home.  It won’t do, so the doctor said, to excite him too much.”

“Oh, I know that as well as you do.  In fact, it might be best not to mention business to dad at all.  You must remember that this is the third breakdown he has had since we came to Brill, and another such turn might prove serious.”

“Oh, don’t talk like that!  It makes me shiver to think of it.  What in the world would we do if anything happened to poor, dear dad!”

“If only Uncle Randolph was more of a business man, he might go to New York and help Dick; but you know how he is all wrapped up in what he calls ‘scientific farming.’  Of course, it doesn’t amount to a hill of beans, but he thinks it does, and he spends a great deal of money on it that might be put to better usage.”

“Well, it’s his own money, you must remember, and he has a right to do what he pleases with it.  But for gracious sake! don’t get him to go to New York.  It would only mix up matters worse than ever.  Dick would not only have to take care of the business, but he would also have to take care of Uncle Randolph.  Besides, it wouldn’t be fair to leave Aunt Martha to look after dad, alone.”  And there, for the time being, the talk on personal matters came to an end.

CHAPTER VI

 Baseball talk

With so many other affairs to claim our attention, I have purposely avoided going into the details of the baseball season at Brill that year.  As my old readers know, the college had a baseball nine and a football eleven, and both had, at various times, done well at one sport or the other.

This particular year, baseball matters had not gone as well as had been expected.  In the first place, several of the best players on the nine had graduated the year before and left the college.  Then had come a long wet spell, during which time only some indoor practice in the gymnasium could be attempted.  Thus, at the opening of the season, the nine possessed four players who had hitherto played only on the scrub, and the whole team lacked the practice that was essential to success.  The most serious loss was in the battery, both the pitcher and catcher of the year