“One more week of school and then hurrah² for a long vacation in the country!” he murmured to himself as he mounted the piazza³ steps. “Oh, but won’t we have a dandy time swimming and fishing when we get to Cloverdale!”

 

His little dog Frisky⁴ was at the door to greet him with short, sharp barks of pleasure. Frank caught the animal up and began to coddle him.

 

“Glad to see me, eh?” he cried. “Frisky, won’t you be glad when we get to the country and you can roam all over the fields?”

 

For answer the dog barked again and wagged his tail vigorously. Still holding the animal, Frank entered the dining room and passed into the kitchen, where his mother was assisting the servant in the preparation of the evening meal.

 

“Mother, is father back from Philadelphia yet?” he asked, as he hung up his cap and slipped into the sink pantry to wash his hands.

 

“Not yet, Frank,” answered Mrs. Hardy.

 

“He must have quite some business to attend to, to stay away so late. I thought I was late myself.”

 

“You are late, Frank—it is quarter after six. I expected your father in on the half-past five train, but he must have missed that.”

 

“Then he won’t be here until nearly eight o’clock. Must I wait for my supper?”

 

“No; we can have our supper directly. I know you must be hungry.”

 

“I am, mother. Baseball gives a fellow an appetite, especially if he runs bases and plays in the field, as I did. We played the Hopeville Stars and beat them 12 to 7. I made three runs.”

 

“You must certainly love the game?”

 

“I do. Sometimes I wish I could be a professional ball player.”

 

“I shouldn’t wish you to be that, Frank. I want you to go to college and be a professional man,” added Mrs. Hardy, with a fond smile.

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