Mr. Crocker started to his feet.

"It is? And I've been five years here without finding it out!
When's the next game scheduled?"

"It is known in England as Rounders, sir. Children play it with a
soft ball and a racquet, and derive considerable enjoyment from
it. I had never heard of it before as a pastime for adults."

Two shocked eyes stared into the butler's face.

"Children?" The word came in a whisper.

"A racquet?"

"Yes, sir."

"You--you didn't say a soft ball?"

"Yes, sir."

A sort of spasm seemed to convulse Mr. Crocker. He had lived five
years in England, but not till this moment had he realised to the
full how utterly alone he was in an alien land. Fate had placed
him, bound and helpless, in a country where they called baseball
Rounders and played it with a soft ball.

He sank back into his chair, staring before him. And as he sat
the wall seemed to melt and he was gazing upon a green field, in
the centre of which a man in a grey uniform was beginning a