"When do you youngsters play?" called out Brown laughingly. "To-day
or some other day?"

"I would recommend you to make good time," Old Dut urged. "You
don't want to start the season by being late, do you. Besides
the North Grammar boys might then claim the game by default."

That was enough to set Dick Prescott and his dazed comrades at
work in earnest.

The uniforms were of blue, and of fine texture. Even baseball
shoes had been provided. The stockings were blue. Then came
the trousers. The blue jersey shirts bore proudly in front two
golden letters each, "C.G." This inscription stood, of course,
for "Central Grammar." Then there were coats of blue, to slip
on over the jersey shirts; caps of blue and belts of blue, the
latter edged with golden yellow to match the shirt initials.

Besides there were a catcher's mask, gloves for the different
field players, half a dozen baseballs and an even dozen of bats.

"Finish dressing as quickly as you can," urged Old Dut. "Your
time is slipping away."

At last they were ready. Carrying masks, bats, gloves, they fell
in by twos, Principal Jones marching them from the building, along
the street and into the field where their arrival had created
such a furor.