“I’ll beat him yet!” he vowed. “I’ll put him out of the running here, or I’m a dub!”
CHAPTER XVII
GUILE
“Really?” exclaimed Janet Harting, her eyes sparkling. Then she laughed. “It’s luck you didn’t tell father. He has an idea that professional ball players aren’t quite respectable.”
Bert Elgin bent slightly forward, a hurt expression in the eyes fixed upon her face. During the fifteen minutes in which he had labored strenuously to ingratiate himself with her father, and succeeded beyond his hopes, he had gathered, by skillful probing, the impression that the older man was just the sort to look askance on professional athletics. Not a hint of this now appeared on the surface, however. His voice was regretful, with just the proper touch of indignation in it.
“I hope you don’t share his prejudice, Miss Harting?” he said quickly.
“Not at all,” the girl hastened to assure him. “I adore baseball, and could never understand why a man shouldn’t take it up just as he would any other profession. It’s much better paid than many, and I’m sure it must be a great deal pleasanter than being cooped up all day in a stuffy office.”
Elgin’s sigh of relief was unmistakable. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to hear you say that,” he returned, his face clearing. “Your father is a clergyman of the old school, and I can quite understand his prejudice. But professional baseball to-day is very different from what it was in his time. There isn’t a cleaner, decenter sport going, or one more free from crookedness. Of course, there are people who look down on it. There are even players”—his voice took on a sneering tone—“who go into it under fictitious names, but they’re cads and bounders. I notice they’re not ashamed to draw their salary checks on the dot. I’ve played ball ever since I left college, and I can truly say, Miss Harting, that I’ve never once had reason to regret my choice of a profession.”
For a moment there was silence. The girl’s cheeks were faintly flushed and she was plucking absently at the fringe hanging from the upholstered chair arm.
“I’m sure you haven’t, Mr. Elgin,” she murmured presently. There was another momentary pause before she raised her eyes to his face. “I believe that what you say about a man’s playing under a false name is generally true, but don’t you think that once in a while there may be a perfectly good reason for it?”