up," and Mr. Randolph Rover held out his hands.
"All right, then; here you go," answered Tom, somewhat put out to thus lose a ball which had cost him his week's spending money; and he sent the sphere flying upward at a smart speed. Mr. Rover made a clutch for it, but the ball slipped through his hands and landed plump on his nose.
"Oh!" he cried, and disappeared from sight, but reappeared a moment later, to shake his fist at Tom.
"You young rascal! You did that on purpose!" he spluttered, and brought forth his handkerchief, for his nose had begun to bleed. "Was anyone ever tormented so by three boys?"
"Now you are in for it again, Tom," whispered Sam.
"I didn't mean to hit you, Uncle Randolph. Why didn't you catch it on the fly?"
"On the fly?" repeated the uncle. "Do you suppose I am accustomed to catching cannon balls?"
"Didn't you ever play baseball?"
"Never. I spent my time in some useful study." The elderly gentleman continued to keep his handkerchief to his nose, and adjusted his spectacles. "Thank fortune, you are all
