“Wa—al,” John grinned, “he won a baseball game once. That was in his grade school days. Regular Jack Armstrong finish, it was.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Well, then, let me,” John grumbled. “It was the end of a series. Jimmie’s team was playing off a tie with the Holmes school for the championship. No end of excitement, you know. Last half of the ninth inning, score tied, seven and seven. Two men out and Jimmie up to bat and——”
With a slow grin overspreading his thin face, John paused to lift his cup for a good long draw at the coffee.
“John!” Mary stamped her foot.
“Oh, yes,” John pretended to start. “Of course. What does Jimmie do but swat a home-run into the tall grass? And after running the bases what did he do?”
“What?”
“Kept right on running. Streaked it for home.”
“Why?”
“Far as I can figure it out he didn’t want anybody making a fuss over him.”