"Well," he said, "if it won't be too much trouble?"
"Trouble!" The word was a caress as Bean uttered it. He pushed a door open, clumsy with excitement, and the World's Greatest Pitcher stepped in to sit beside him.
"Grounds?" asked Bean.
"Yes," said the Pitcher, "if it's convenient."
"Polo Grounds," called Bean to Paul. "Hurry and turn around there, someway." He was afraid his guest might reconsider.
But the guest sat contentedly enough, the car was turned, and presently was speeding back toward town. The person in a taxi-cab which made the same turn a moment later was heard to say, "What the devil now?" with no discernible relevance.
"Living out this way?" asked Bean when he was again certain of his voice-control.
"No; only went out to stay over night with some friends. Had to get back this morning. They told me to take that car and change at—"
"Ought to have one these," said Bean, "then you know where you are."
"This runs well," said the Pitcher affably.