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should indulge in it amazed Mr. Ditmas; at last it moved him to speech.

"Look here, gentlemen, we know the purpose of either Saturday or Sunday—it was a day of rest; but for active young men rest doesn't mean doing nothing; their normal rest is play, a change from the routine of work, that's the spirit of the Bible."

The banker turned on the engineer tensely. "Mr. Ditmas, I'm surprised to find you encouraging Sunday sports! Do sports glorify God? The Bible says retire to your closets and pray! That's the way to spend the Lord's day, not in wicked sports!"

Ditmas was astonished at the banker's harsh hebraism, but was saved from saying anything more by Mr. Tug Beavers, who injected himself into the argument.

"All right, boys," he shouted, "let Perry Northcutt have his way. If it's plain-out wrong to play ball on Sunday, by God, I'll have a game myself. Come on, let's play!"

He waved his thick arms toward the diamond and a number of players followed him out into the field.

The banker was beside himself. "Stop it!" he cried in a high voice. "I try to be nice to you barbarians and you won't let me. I've got the constable right behind that railway dump waiting to take you up with a warrant if you don't stop desecrating this day! Now, you ain't going to do it, boys. I'm telling you!"

"Take us up!" exploded Tug. "I'm not skeered of you, you damned little spindle-legged, knife-faced hypocrite! You break the law ever' day chargin' eight per cent. in your damned ol' bank, then come out here tryin' to bust up our baseball game cause it's wrong! Bring your officer and be damned to both of you!"

The gratification of "cursing out" the banker extended to every man in the crowd when a dry voice said rather calmly, "Hold on, Mr. Beavers."

The crowd parted and a graying middle-aged man moved