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Updated: June 17, 2025
There was a sharp crack. Up started the crowd with sudden explosive: "Oh!" Straight as a bee-line the ball sped to Keene in deep centre, and Reddy was out. Wayne players went running out and Place players came trotting in. Ken, however, at Worry's order, walked slowly and leisurely to the pitcher's box.
Ken could stand the deception no longer. He marvelled at Reddy's consummate lying and how he could ever stand that look on Worry's face. Bounding down-stairs four steps at a jump, Ken burst like a bomb upon the sad-faced group. "Oh, Worry, it's all a joke!" Rain prevented the second Herne game, which was to have been played on the Herne grounds.
"I don't take no credit for it, Bill," said the skipper, "not a bit. My father was like it before me. The worry's killing me." "Well, which are you going to have?" inquired the mate. "Which do you like the best?" "I don't know, an' that's a fact," said the skipper. "They 've both got money coming to 'em; when I'm in Wales I like Mary Jones best, and when I'm in London it's Janey Cooper.
"Yes, you may well say what's the matter now! Everything's the matter. The worry's almost maddening." "What, is there anything fresh, uncle?" "There, don't you take any notice, boy. I get regularly out of heart. There's always something wrong. It's as if we were never to be off. All these weary, weary months gone slowly dragging on." "Why, uncle, they seem to me to go like lightning," cried Rodd.
He ran away from the coach, and dived under the bed. But Reddy Ray dragged him out and to the window, and held him up in the bright bonfire glare. Then he lifted a hand to silence the roaring crowd. "Fellows, here he is Worry's demon, Wayne's pitcher!" called Reddy, in ringing, far-reaching voice. "Listen! Peggie didn't lose his nerve when he faced Herne to-day, but he's lost it now.
"Talk is cheap; and besides, in a quiet place like this it's a positive duty to afford your neighbors some diversion; you ought to be thankful. You'll become a public benefactor. Now will you go ahead?" "Mrs. Betty, worry's bad for the nerves, and's apt to produce insomny and neurastheny. But I'll think it over yes, I will I'll think it over."
"What an awful shame that there should be so much injustice in the world!" spoke passionate Tom, flinging his Euripides on the table. "But for one thing, I should be rather glad the worry's over," cried Hamish. "We know the worst now that we have only ourselves to trust to." "Our hands and brains, as Tom said," remarked Charley. "What is the 'one thing' that you mean, Hamish?"
They expect you to explode before the third innin'. I wasn't goin' to tell you, Peg, but you're so " "They said that, did they?" cried Ken. He jumped up with paling cheek and blazing eye, and the big hand he shoved under Worry's nose trembled like a shaking leaf. "What I won't do to them will be funny! Swelled! Explode! Stand the gaff!
"Still, I do feel a trifle slack, and I've had something to worry me." Foster gave him a sympathetic nod. "Worry's bad; make a rule to avoid it when I can. But will you walk as far as the wood?" He went on when Challoner said he would sooner remain, and the latter eagerly opened the telegram. It was in answer to his cable and read "Blake and two others left Sweetwater settlement.
Only ten minutes more to wait. I'll get you a cup of coffee when we arrive. Your mother said we were to take a cab, so all the worry's over and nothing but luxury ahead." But Darsie, quick to note the soothing effect of her prostration, refused to "buck up," and looked only more worn and pathetic than before.
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