eye. It was a dentist's office. If he sat in that window he could see perfectly. There was even a chair just behind the glass.
Without a second thought, Speedy, trained by his New York street experiences to make use of every expedient that offered itself, dashed across the street and up the stairs to the dental emporium. He pushed open the door. The place seemed to be deserted. He almost ran through to the front of the establishment, spotted the chair in front of the window and climbed up into it. Eureka! He had a wonderfully clear view of the scoreboard.
And in their half of the sixth inning the Yankees had tied the score!
Harold glued his eyes on the board across the street. It was equipped with a mechanical device whereby a miniature reproduction of the game was played before your eyes. Tiny tin men represented the players, and there was a ball and everything.
Nothing of importance happened on the scoreboard in the seventh inning, but developments took place in the dental parlors. The proprietor appeared. He was a portly, distinguished-looking gentlemen. He glanced in surprise at the occupant of the chair, decided that the youth must be suffering violently from toothache and had rushed into the office to be ready for relief as quickly as possible.
"Where does it ache?" the dentist asked.
Speedy was startled. He looked quickly around. Not for the world would he be ousted out of the chair. Not if he had to have every tooth in his head pulled.
