“Suppose you call at my home to-morrow morning,” said Joe. “It’s only about five minutes’ walk from the hotel.”
“You needn’t bother about giving me the directions,” said Westland, with an ingratiating smile. “Everybody in Riverside knows where Baseball Joe lives. I’ll be around at eleven o’clock.”
He lifted his hat and departed, while Joe and the others walked toward home.
“What do you suppose he wants of you, Joe?” asked Clara, with lively curiosity.
“Oh, I don’t know,” answered her brother carelessly. “Some reporter probably who wants to get the sad story of my life.”
“If it is, he’ll have something to write about after to-night,” put in Jim. “Great Scott! Joe, if that had happened in New York it would be spread all over the front page of to-morrow’s papers.”
“Oh, Joe, I’m so proud of you,” sighed his mother happily.
“You’re a brother worth having!” exclaimed Clara warmly. 21
Jim was on the point of saying that Joe was a brother-in-law worth having, but checked himself in time.
They had almost reached the house when Clara began to laugh.