McCarthy found a note in his key box when he returned to the hotel. He had torn it open to read when Miss Betty Tabor, who had returned from the grounds with Mrs. Clancy, came laughing and almost dancing across the lobby toward the group of players, leaving her portly, but no less elated companion, to pant along behind her.
"Oh, it was glorious, boys!" she said. "I never was so excited in my life as when you made those four runs in the third inning. And Mother Clancy was so wrought up she dropped three stitches in her fancy work and had to work all the rest of the game picking them out."
"She has a frightful case of nerves," said Swanson sarcastically. "I believe she'd break a needle if we won the world's championship the last inning of the deciding game."
They laughed joyously as the girl turned to McCarthy and said frankly:
"I am so glad for your sake, Mr. McCarthy. I was so angry I could have turned and told some of the people behind me what I thought of them before the game started, but when you fielded that first ball they cheered you—and that made up for it."
"They should have heard what Mr. Clancy had to say about it," he laughed, and then growing serious said, "It is kind of you, Miss Tabor. I am glad to know someone had faith in me."
They were standing a little apart from the group, which was slowly moving toward the elevators, chattering excitedly as school boys and girls. The feeling of relief from the anxiety and suspicion that had fallen upon them gave rise to exuberance.
"Mr. Clancy is taking us for an auto ride all around the city to-night," said Miss Tabor. "Shall I ask him to invite you to come with us? There's an extra seat."
"It's awfully good of you," he said in genuine regret. "I wish I could—but I have an engagement."
"Oh," she said, her tones chilling quickly. "I'm sorry."