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When Gordon Merrick neared the corner of Troutman Street he slowed down his bicycle and finally drew in at the curb, putting out a foot to hold himself in the saddle while he deliberated. So deep in thought was he that when the yellow watering cart trundled up, the driver half asleep under the blue and white umbrella, he never knew of it until the sprinkler had drenched him from foot to knee. The driver awoke at that moment and, looking back, saw Gordon.
"Hi, there!" he shouted. "Look out!"
Gordon, aroused from his thoughts by the unexpected bath, smiled.
"Why?" he asked. "Are you coming back?"
The joke was lost on the driver of the watering cart, however. He only scowled and settled back to slumber again. Gordon chuckled, and glanced ruefully at his drenched trouser-leg. Except for the looks of that no harm had been done, for it was a hot morning in early July and the feeling of the cool water against his leg had been decidedly pleasant. Evidently the incident had brought a decision in the weighty problem which had confronted him, for with no more hesitation he turned his wheel to the left and peddled on down E Street.
"I'll talk to Dick about it," he said to himself. "He always knows what to do."
The Loverings lived in the third house from the corner, one of a half-dozen modest abodes occupying that side of the block. All the houses were painted white, although differing slightly in the simplicity of their architecture, and all were more or less hidden from view by hedges of lilac or arbor-vit?. Old-fashioned white picket fences peeked out between the leaves of the hedges. The street itself was old-fashioned. Ten years before it had been in the desirable part of Clearfield, but since then the residential center had worked westward and the row of quiet, green-shuttered cottages was being closed in by such unsavory neighbors as livery stables and dye works and tenements.
Dick Lovering hailed Gordon from the vine-screened porch as the latter jumped from his bicycle and leaned it against the hitching-post in front of the little gate. "Hello, Gordie! Come on up."
Dick was seated at the cool end of the porch, which stretched the width of the house. There was a table beside him which held a few flowers in a quaint old green vase and many books and magazines. Dick's crutches stood against the wall within reach, for Dick, as he put it, was "very fond of his crutches and never went anywhere without them." He was seventeen, a tall, nice-looking boy with dark hair and eyes and just the smallest suggestion of pallor on his lean cheeks. As Gordon came up the steps Dick laid down the magazine he had been reading and smiled his pleasant smile.
"Been in the pond?" he asked, viewing the other's wet trousers.
"Watering cart soused me at the corner. How are you, Dickums?"
"Fine. Swell weather, isn't it? You look warm, though."
"So would you if you'd been riding all over town. Say, I got a letter from Bert Cable this morning and I want you to see what you think about it. I've got it here somewhere."
"Where is Bert?" asked Dick as Gordon searched his pockets.
"Bridgeport, Connecticut. He's working for his uncle in some sort of a factory over there. He told me he was going to get eight dollars a week. Here it is. You'd better read it."
"You do it," smiled Dick. "I'm lazy to-day."
"Well, he says-Where is it?-Here we are. 'I'm sending a letter that came the other day from Caspar Billings. He thinks we're still playing ball and wants a game with us. I haven't answered it. What I was thinking was why don't you and Lansing and Fudge Shaw and some of the fellows get a team together and play the Point? You could have a lot of fun. Those fellows at the Point aren't anything to be scared of. You could get up a team that would wallop them easy. Tom Haley would pitch for you and Lansing could catch and you could play first. Why don't you? Anyway, you answer the letter. I'm awfully busy here and don't have much time for writing letters. This is a swell town, lots going on all the time and plenty of baseball. Remember me to all the fellows and tell Harry Bryan when you see him that he's got my glove and is to send it to me because I may need it. We're getting up a team here at the factory. We've got a dandy pitcher and I guess they'll put me at short. Don't forget to write to Billings anyway. Yours truly, Bert.'"
Gordon looked inquiringly across at Dick. "What do you think?" he asked.
"Why, I dare say they will."
"Dare say who will? Will what?"
"Put Bert at short," chuckled Dick.
"Oh, you know what I mean! What do you think of the scheme?"
"Good, I'd say. I suppose," with a humorous glance at his crutches, "you came around to see if I'd play third base for you."
"Wish you could, Dickums. Gee, I don't see how you can always be so cheerful about-about it! I couldn't."
"Well, it isn't hard, Gordie, when you've had seventeen years' practice. Of course, if I'd been able to get around like other fellows and then-then had this happen I guess it would be different. Anyhow, a chap might as well be cheerful as anything else. After all, I don't miss much fun. I can't play games or run or skate or-or do a lot of things I'd like to, but I can watch the rest of you and I can make believe that if I could-well, play third base, say, I'd do it better than the next chap. The beauty of it is that you can't prove I wouldn't!"
"I'll bet you would, Dickums! Why, you know more baseball and more football than most of the fellows who play."
"Why not?" laughed Dick. "They don't have as much time to study it as I do. They have to get out and play. I can watch and learn. But never mind about me. What's this Billings chap say?"
"Oh!" Gordon pulled another sheet of paper from the envelope and read its contents. "'Mr. Bert Cable, Captain Clearfield High School Baseball Club, Dear Sir: A lot of us fellows at the Point are getting up a ball team and we want games. Will you play us? We'll play on our own field or on yours, just as you say. Any date after July 10th will suit us, Wednesdays or Saturdays preferred. Our fellows will average about the same as your team, I guess. Please let me hear from you, and if there are any other teams around Clearfield we could play with I wish you'd let me know and send managers' addresses. Very truly, Caspar Billings, Captain, Rutter's Point Baseball Association.'"
"Caspar Billings," mused Dick. "Which one of the Silk Stocking Brigade is he, Gordon?"
Gordon smiled. "I don't remember him particularly. He's a sort of chum of Morris Brent, though."
"That all you can say for him?" asked Dick. "I suppose Morris will play with the Pointers?"
"I guess so. He won't be much of a help, though. He plays ball like-like a turtle!"
"Morris says," replied Dick with his slow smile, "that he can play a lot better than most of you fellows and that if Bert and Tom Haley and some of the others weren't down on him he'd have made the team last spring."
"Guff! He can't catch a ball. He's not a bad sort, Morris, if his dad does own the town, but he's no Ty Cobb! Well, what do you think about getting up a team, Dickums?"
"Why not? You've got plenty of fellows. Most of the school team are still around, aren't they?"
"All except Bert and Warner Jones and Joe Browne."
"Where's Warner?"
"I don't know. Gone away with his folks somewhere for the summer. Wish my folks would do that."
"Well, get out your pencil, Gordie, and let's make up the team. Haley, pitch, and Lanny, catcher--"
"I'll play first and Harry Bryan second--"
"How about Will Scott?"
"Third. Then for shortstop--"
"Jack Tappen?"
"N-no, he'd better play in the outfield. I'll put him down for right. I guess Pete Robey's the chap for short. That leaves us Way for left field and I guess Fudge will do for center. He can't hit much, but he can pull down a fly."
"There you are, then. What will you call the nine? You can't be the High School team, I suppose."
"N-no, we'll have to find a name. The Clearfield-what, Dickums?"
"Rovers?"
"Sounds like a troupe of trained dogs," laughed Gordon. "We might call ourselves the Purple Sox, only it's sort of hard to say."
"Shorten it," suggested Dick. "Call yourselves the 'Purps.'"
"That's worse than the Rovers! Why not just the Clearfield Ball Club?"
"Why not? That's settled. Now you want a manager--"
"Got one."
"You have? Who?"
"You."
"Me!"
"Surest thing you know. That's partly why I came. To tell you. You see, I thought you'd want to know it."
"Very thoughtful of you," Dick laughed. "But will you tell me how I can manage a ball team, you idiot?"
"Why can't you? All you have to do is to arrange games for us and look after the expenses and see that we behave ourselves. If they make me captain--"
"Which they will, as it's your scheme!"
"It's really Bert's. But if they do I'm going to tell the other fellows that they've got to do just as you say. You know more baseball than I do and you're going to be the real thing."
"Nonsense!"
"No nonsense about it. That's settled, then."
"But, look here, I'd have to go to places with you and-and-well, you know, Gordie, I can't afford to do that very often."
"It won't cost you anything. Your expenses will be paid by the club. Besides, we'll only go over to the Point and places like that, I guess. Now I'm going to see Lanny and talk it over with him."
"Well, all right. I'll be manager if you really want me to. I'd like it. Only, if you change your mind, or the other fellows think--"
"You know very well the other fellows will be tickled to death," replied Gordon severely. "And it will be a good thing for you, too. Take you off this porch now and then. You don't get enough sunshine and fresh air."
"Considering that I'm outdoors all day and sleep with my head through the window," laughed Dick, "that's a bit of a joke. But have your own way, Gordie. You always were a masterful brute. Going?"
"Yep. I want to catch Lanny. I'll come over again after dinner. Rah for the Clearfield Ball Club, Dickums! So long!"
On Your Mark! A Story of College Life and Athletics by Ralph Henry Barbour
Rumors said that Lucas married an unattractive woman with no background. In the three years they were together, he remained cold and distant to Belinda, who endured in silence. Her love for him forced her to sacrifice her self-worth and her dreams. When Lucas' true love reappeared, Belinda realized that their marriage was a sham from the start, a ploy to save another woman's life. She signed the divorce papers and left. Three years later, Belinda returned as a surgical prodigy and a maestro of the piano. Lost in regret, Lucas chased her in the rain and held her tightly. "You are mine, Belinda."
"Sign the divorce papers and get out!" Leanna got married to pay a debt, but she was betrayed by her husband and shunned by her in-laws. Seeing that her efforts were in vain, she agreed to divorce and claimed her half of the properties. With her purse plump from the settlement, Leanna enjoyed her newfound freedom. The constant harassment from her ex's mistress never fazed her. She took back her identities as top hacker, champion racer, medical professor, and renowned jewelry designer. Then someone discovered her secret. Matthew smiled. "Will you have me as your next husband?"
Blinded in a crash, Cary was rejected by every socialite—except Evelina, who married him without hesitation. Three years later, he regained his sight and ended their marriage. "We’ve already lost so many years. I won’t let her waste another one on me." Evelina signed the divorce papers without a word. Everyone mocked her fall—until they discovered that the miracle doctor, jewelry mogul, stock genius, top hacker, and the President's true daughter… were all her. When Cary came crawling back, a ruthless tycoon had him kicked out. "She's my wife now. Get lost."
In order to fulfill her grandfather's last wish, Stella entered into a hasty marriage with an ordinary man she had never met before. However, even after becoming husband and wife on paper, they each led separate lives, barely crossing paths. A year later, Stella returned to Seamarsh City, hoping to finally meet her mysterious husband. To her astonishment, he sent her a text message, unexpectedly pleading for a divorce without ever having met her in person. Gritting her teeth, Stella replied, "So be it. Let’s get a divorce!" Following that, Stella made a bold move and joined the Prosperity Group, where she became a public relations officer that worked directly for the company’s CEO, Matthew. The handsome and enigmatic CEO was already bound in matrimony, and was known to be unwaveringly devoted to his wife in private. Unbeknownst to Stella, her mysterious husband was actually her boss, in his alternate identity! Determined to focus on her career, Stella deliberately kept her distance from the CEO, although she couldn't help but notice his deliberate attempts to get close to her. As time went on, her elusive husband had a change of heart. He suddenly refused to proceed with the divorce. When would his alternate identity be uncovered? Amidst a tumultuous blend of deception and profound love, what destiny awaited them?
Life was perfect until she met her boyfriend's big brother. There was a forbidden law in the Night Shade Pack that if the head Alpha rejected his mate, he would be stripped of his position. Sophia's life would get connected with the law. She was an Omega who was dating the head Alpha's younger brother. Bryan Morrison, the head Alpha, was not only a cold-blooded man but also a charming business tycoon. His name was enough to cause other packs to tremble. He was known as a ruthless man. What if, by some twist of destiny, Sophia's path were to intertwine with his?
Elisa watched as the most important people in her life showered the evil imposter-The fake heiress, with love. Elisa, the lost daughter of one of the most wealthiest family was found 18 years later and was brought back to her rightful home. However, someone had already taken her place. A fake heiress, the pampered little princess. Her coy acting and innocent façade made Elisa's real mother love her more than Elisa, her real daughter. That made Elisa, though, the true daughter end up as an adopted child. "Elisa, could you try not to appear in front of her too much as it could trigger her insecurities." Her parents had told her because of the fake heiress. "Elisa, You've taken everything away from her. Why can't you give her a little more?" Her fiancé had ordered her. Because of an unfortunate accident plotted by Isabelle-The fake heiress, Elisa was sent to prison and her family cut ties with her without a second thought. Four years, after much torture which led to her being crippled and blind on one eye, she was released, but got hit by a truck. While laying on the pool of her blood, she wanted to question, Why? Why had they all treated her so cruelly, while they love Isabelle unconditionally? She badly wanted to rip off Isabelle's mask of innocence, to reveal the fake, manipulative woman beneath. She was full of hatred. But after her death, she woke up back to when she was 18 years like all that happened were all nightmare. She was elated. She was reborn to re-live all that had happened in her last life, but now, her mission was to reveal mask beneath that woman and make everyone that made her suffer in her past life pay. It was her time for revenge! And definitely, she won't mess this up!