Double Play: A Story of School and Baseball — Edition Insights
Edition facts
For Double Play: A Story of School and Baseball — Edition Insights, the stored edition analysis reports 72,173 words, 5 hr 14 min estimated reading time, and 27 detected text sections.
The text analysis averages about 13.8 words per sentence, while the detected sections provide another way to judge how the source is divided.
Project Gutenberg metadata also associates the work with “Baseball -- Juvenile fiction,” connecting these edition facts with the source record’s subject description.
Calculated from edition completeness, EPUB availability, text structure and catalogue metadata. Not a user rating.
How this score is calculated
- Description quality20 pts
- Title & short description10 pts
- Source metadata20 pts
- Text length15 pts
- Chapters / structure15 pts
- EPUB file integrity20 pts
Total of 100 points, scaled to a 2.5-5.0 range. Editions with an empty description or a missing EPUB file are not scored.
Read the Text
dled a suit-case and dragged him into the room.
“Hello, you old chump!” he cried. “When did you get here? We looked all through the train for you. How are you? Isn’t it great to get back again? I want you to know my brother Herb. Herb’s going to stay over night with us. Herb, this is Dan Vinton.”
Dan shook hands with the elder brother and with Tom Dyer, Loring’s roommate. Dyer only said “Hello, Dan,” in his slow, quiet way, but his hand-clasp and the smile that accompanied it said a lot more. Alf Loring talked on breathlessly as he threw bags out of the way and told everyone to find a seat.
“Herb’s on his way to New Haven, Dan. He’s coming here in the Fall to help turn out the dandiest team old Yardley’s ever had, aren’t you, Herb?”
“Maybe,” answered his brother smilingly. “If you fellows want me.”
“Of course we want you!” cried Alf. “What have I been telling you all along?”
“Well, I don’t know how your coach would like it, Kid. He may not want anyone butting in.”
“Payson? Don’t you believe it! Payson’s a dandy chap, Herb; he’ll be pleased to death to have someone take a hand. Won’t he, Dan?”
“I should think he ought to be,” Dan replied. “Especially a man like Mr. Loring.”
The Yale man acknowledged the compliment with a nod and a laugh. “I don’t know much about coaching, though,” he said. “I’ve never tried it.”
“Oh, well, you know how to play football,” said Alf, “and that’s more than some coaches do. You’ll be all right. With me to help you,” he added as an afterthought. At which they all laughed, even Dyer. Herbert Loring was a big, broad-chested, handsome fellow who looked a little bit spoiled. He was in his junior year at Yale and was one of the star half-backs. It was evident that Alf thought this big brother a very fine and important person, and equally evident that big brother wasn’t denying it. But in spite of the fact that he seemed a trifle too well pleased with himself, Dan quite liked him.
For a time the talk dwelt on football, football past and future, football at Yale, and football at Yardley. Tom Dyer’s part in the discussion was slight, he preferring to get his bag unpacked and his things put away. But it was Tom who finally switched the conversation away from football.
“That protegé of yours shown up yet, Dan?” he asked, pausing on his way to the closet with a pair of shoes in each hand.
“Not yet. He and his father are coming on the six o’clock train, I believe.”
“By Jove!” exclaimed Alf. “I’d forgotten all about Little Lord Fauntleroy. Poor old Dan!”
“Who’s Little Lord Fauntleroy?” asked Herbert Loring.
“Dan’s new roommate and protegé. I told you about him, don’t you remember?” Big Brother shook his head and taking one knee into his clasped hands leaned back comfortably against the cushions of the window-seat.
“No, you didn’t, Kid. Who is he? Let’s hear about him.”
“It’s all just like a story in a book,” said Alf, with a grin at Dan. “It happened last Fall. You know who John T. Pennimore is, don’t you?”
“The man they call the Steamship King? He lives around here, doesn’t he?”
“Yes, you can see his place from out front. Sound View he calls it; and it’s a dandy; there’s eight acres of it, with a regular palace of a house, stables, kennels, gardener’s lodge, hot-houses, and all that sort of thing. They say he’s worth a hundred millions.”
“They say a whole lot of rot,” said his brother witheringly. “He probably has ten or fifteen millions.”
“Is that all?” murmured Tom. “Wonder how he lives!”
“Well, anyhow, he’s rich, all right. And he’s done two or three things for the school, they say; given money, I suppose; shouldn’t wonder if he owned some stock in it. Does he, do you think, Dan?”
“I never heard him say anything about it,” Dan replied. Herbert Loring looked across at him with surprise and interest.
“Do you know him?” he asked.
“Know him?” scoffed Alf. “Why, they’re as thick as thieves, aren’t you, Dan? I wouldn’t be surprised if they called each other by their first names.”
“Well, where’s the story?” asked his brother impatiently.
The novel opens with Dan Vinton returning to Yardley after Christmas vacation on an unseasonably warm January day. The description of Long Island Sound, russet meadows, and Meeker's Marsh in autumn-like colors establishes a setting that is both specific and evocative. This careful attention to the natural environment recurs throughout the excerpts, grounding the school story in a tangible place.
Dan shares the carriage with a homesick Preparatory Class boy, a minor detail that hints at the social dynamics of boarding school. The opening thus signals that the narrative will balance athletic ambition with the quieter challenges of school life.
A Winter Landscape Without Snow
The opening chapter defies seasonal expectation: it is January 3, yet there has been no snow. The landscape is described in terms of “green-gold” and “coppery red,” as if October had intruded into winter. This unusual weather is not merely decorative; it sets a tone of possibility and disruption. The narrator notes that the trees are bare, but the overall impression is of a “careless, laughing October day” that has lost its place. Such personification suggests a world where order can be pleasantly unsettled—a fitting backdrop for a story about a new student finding his footing.
Later excerpts do not revisit this weather anomaly, so readers should note that the opening’s atmospheric detail may be a deliberate contrast to the more conventional school routines that follow. The warmth and light of the first scene linger as a counterpoint to later indoor or competitive scenes.
Merit, Favor, and the Yardley Ethos
When Dan is promoted to substitute baseman, he worries that the coach, Payson, might be rewarding him for past performance in a game against Broadwood. His friend Alf dismisses this: “Payson isn’t that sort. He never lets his liking for a fellow influence him much.” Alf contrasts Yardley with Broadwood, where society men get first choice. This exchange establishes a key theme: the tension between earned achievement and personal connection.
Dan’s reluctance to accept a place “by favor” reveals his character, while Alf’s reassurance that “you have to work for what you get at Yardley” reinforces the school’s stated values. Readers should watch for whether this ideal holds true as the story progresses, especially given that Dan’s promotion follows a previous game where he helped the team. The excerpts do not reveal the outcome of this ethical test.
The Politics of School Societies
In the same conversation, Dan mentions that Cambridge (one of Yardley’s societies) will send out invitations soon, and he wants to help his younger brother Gerald get in. Alf agrees to assist, noting that “we’ll have to do a little political work.” This moment introduces a social layer beyond athletics: membership in societies like Cambridge carries prestige and requires maneuvering.
The excerpts do not explain the society system in detail, but the mention of “political work” suggests that Yardley is not purely meritocratic. Alf’s earlier criticism of Broadwood’s society favoritism becomes ironic when Yardley’s own societies require similar networking. Readers may track how Dan’s efforts to secure Gerald’s invitation intersect with his baseball ambitions, and whether the story critiques or accepts this social reality.
Voice and Dialogue as Characterization
Barbour uses dialogue to distinguish characters efficiently. Alf speaks in a colloquial, self-deprecating tone: “Pshaw, I was only fooling!” and “I can catch flies and throw to base pretty well, but if it wasn’t for the fact that I can bat with the next fellow I wouldn’t hold down my place a minute.” His frankness about his own limitations contrasts with Dan’s more earnest, thoughtful replies.
Dan’s speech is measured and often questioning: “It doesn’t seem exactly fair for me to step into the infield when you’ve been on the team two years.” This exchange not only advances the plot but also establishes a friendship based on mutual respect. The dialogue carries the burden of exposition about school rules and rivalries without becoming heavy-handed. Readers should note how the characters’ voices reveal their values and relationships, especially in later chapters not included here.
The excerpts present a school story where athletic competition and social belonging are intertwined. Readers will find that the narrative rewards attention to small details—the homesick boy, the unseasonable warmth, the offhand remark about society politics. These elements, rather than the baseball action alone, shape the world Dan inhabits. As you read, consider how the opening’s promise of a disrupted season echoes in the choices Dan faces between merit and connection, and how the dialogue continues to reveal character beyond the diamond.
Reading about Dan Vinton settling into Yardley’s autumn rhythms, I found myself quietly recalling another sort of journey—one where a lone pilot navigates unfamiliar skies. There’s a similar solitude in both, a sense of earning one’s place. It made me think of A Yankee Flier in the Far East — Background and Themes, and how far-away places can feel, even from a schoolyard bench.
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Felicia Davis - 1 month ago
A fantastic story that seamlessly blends school life with the excitement of baseball. The protagonist is relatable, and his journey of growth both on and off the field is compelling. The game scenes are vivid and thrilling, and the themes of teamwork and perseverance resonate. A home run for young readers and sports enthusiasts alike! -
Jeffrey Walker - 1 month ago
This is an enjoyable sports story with a likeable main character. The baseball action is well-described, and the moral lessons are valuable. The pacing is good, but the side characters could have been more developed. Overall, it's a solid read for middle-grade readers who enjoy sports fiction. -
Ronald Patterson - 3 weeks ago
While the book has its moments, it relies heavily on clichés and predictable plot twists. The baseball scenes are repetitive, and the character development is shallow. The school drama feels forced, and the resolution is overly neat. It's a forgettable read that doesn't offer anything new to the genre.
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Harper Walker
1 month ago