"Yes. Sit down," responded Clancy, his intention of rebuffing the intruder changing as he saw the smile. "What can I do for you?"
"I read in the evening papers," replied the youth, still smiling easily, "that Carson broke a leg, and that, to win the pennant, you must find an outfielder who can hit."
"Perhaps you also read that I'd like to find a diamond about the size of my head," responded Clancy, sarcastically.
"The paper also said that you might switch Pardridge from third base to the outfield if you could find a hard-hitting infielder."
"Possibly the paper also said that if I found the diamond I'd move my gold mine to make room for it." Clancy restrained himself from further comment, feeling uncertain because of the quiet confidence of his visitor.
There was a pause, the veteran manager studying his caller and the slender youth sat smiling as if expecting Clancy to resume the conversation.
"Well?" said Clancy, glancing at his half-finished letter as if to hint that his time was entirely too valuable to be wasted discussing academic impossibilities with entire strangers.
"Well," replied the visitor, smiling, "I'm it."
"You're what?" asked the astonished manager.
"The third baseman who can hit."