“Who will catch?” asked Charlie Fleming; “I want to pitch.”

“I will,” said Andy.

“All right!  If you can catch as you can bat, we’ll cut down their score.”

Andy soon showed that he was no novice at catching.  He rarely let a ball pass him.  When Godfrey’s turn came to bat, one was already out, and Andy determined to put Godfrey out if it was a possible thing.  One strike had been called, when Godfrey struck a foul which was almost impossible to catch.  But now Andy ran, made a bound into the air, and caught it—­a very brilliant piece of play, by which Godfrey and his side were put out.  The boys on both sides applauded, for it was a piece of brilliant fielding which not one of them was capable of.  That is, all applauded but Godfrey.  He threw down his bat spitefully, and said to Fleming: 

“You didn’t give me good balls.”

“I gave you much better than you gave Andy,” said Charlie.

“That’s so!” chimed in two other boys.

“I won’t play any more,” said Godfrey.

Just then the bell rang, so that the game was brought to a close.  Andy received the compliments of the boys on his brilliant playing.  He received them modestly, and admitted that he probably couldn’t make such a catch again.  It was very disagreeable to Godfrey to hear Andy praised.  He was rather proud of his ball-playing, and he saw that Andy was altogether his superior, at any rate in the opinion of the boys.  However, he ingeniously contrived to mingle a compliment with a sneer.

“You’re more used to baseball than to books,” he said.

“True for you,” said Andy.

“You’re a head taller than any of the boys in your class.”

“I know that,” said Andy.  “I haven’t been to school as much as you.”

“I should be ashamed if I didn’t know more.”

“So you ought,” said Andy, “for you’ve been to school all your life.  I hope to know more soon.”

“Anyway, you can play ball,” said Charlie Fleming.

“I’d rather be a good scholar.”

“I’ll help you, if you want any help.”

“Thank you, Charlie.”

They had now entered the schoolroom, and Andy took up his book and studied hard.  He was determined to rise to a higher class as soon as possible, for it was not agreeable to him to reflect that he was the oldest and largest boy in his present class.

“Very well,” said the teacher, when his recitation was over.  “If you continue to recite in this way, you will soon be promoted.”

“I’ll do my best, sir,” said Andy, who listened to these words with pleasure.

“I wish you were coming in the afternoon, too, Andy,” said his friend, Charlie Fleming, as they walked home together.

“So do I, Charlie, but I must work for my mother.”

“That’s right, Andy; I’d do the same in your place.  I haven’t such foolish ideas about work as Godfrey Preston.”

“He ain’t very fond of me,” said Andy, laughing.