e those papers on the floor, boys," she said. "Next time I
come in I want to see you all smiling."

Tim ate his cake and drank his lemonade. The talk started again, a little
brisker now, and a little more hopeful. Plans were made for two practice
periods during the week.

"Will that be all right for you, Tim?" Don asked.

"Don't worry about me," the red-haired boy answered shortly. "I'll be
there." He arose, went around to the other side of the table and stooped
to pick a paper ball from the floor.

A soft smile touched Andy's mouth.

"Aw! what are you laughing at?" Tim cried.

"I'm not laughing, Tim," Andy protested. "Honest."

But, for all that, Tim was furious when he left the meeting. The others
stood on the porch and chatted a moment; he strode out the gate and down
the dark road.

"Gee!" he said in disgust. "They'll think I'm a little Janie."

Letting a girl make him do things! It stung his pride. Friday night he
had said no, and had changed his mind and had scrubbed with the others.
Tonight he had grinned when told about papers on the floor--and had ended
by picking them up.

Everything had gone wrong, Tim told himself, since Don had become patrol
leader. He began to blame Don for all his troubles. Don had upbraided him
when the patrol had lost points. It was at Don's house that Barbara had
made him pick up papers. His cheeks burned.

"I'll show them!" he vowed wrathfully. He would redeem himself in the
only way he knew. He would "start something."

He started it by picking at Don all during next day's practice.

"What's the matter with you?" Ted Carter demanded sharply. "Are you
sick?"

"Don's pitching like a freak," Tim answered.

"It's Saturday's pitching that counts," said Ted. "You fellows have had
enough warm-up. Go out in the field, Don, and catch fungoes."

Don was glad to get away. When the work was over Ted ran to the outfield
and took him by the arm and led him toward the road.

"Have you and Tim been scrapping?" the captain asked.

Don shook his head.

"You fellows are in the same scout troop. Do you pull?"

"N--no."

"What's the matter; did Tim want to be patrol leader?"

Don nodded.

Ted slapped his glove against his thigh and whistled thoughtfully. At the
corner he paused. Don halted, too.

"Look here," Ted said suddenly. "You know that Tim is a harum-scarum,
don't you?"

"Everybody knows that," said Don.

Ted broke into a relieved laugh. "Well, if you know it, wha