“For goodness’ sake, don’t,” retorted Clara in mock alarm. “Oh, dear, here’s another one!”
“Were you addressing me when you said ‘dear’?” asked Jim politely.
Clara flashed him an indignant glance, just as Professor Enoch Crabbe, of the Riverside Academy, stepped up and greeted Joe. He was earnest in his congratulations, but his manner was so stilted that they looked at each other with an amused smile, as he stalked pompously away.
“I wonder if he believes now that I can throw a curve,” laughed Joe.
“He ought to ask some of the Red Sox who whiffed away at them in the World Series,” said 38 Jim with a grin. “They didn’t have any doubt about it.”
“Professor Crabbe had very serious doubts,” explained Joe. “In fact, he said it was impossible. Against all the laws of motion and all that sort of thing. I had to rig up a couple of bamboo rods in a line, and get Dick Talbot, a friend of mine in the moving-picture business, to take a picture of the ball as it curved around the rods, before I could prove my point.”
“Did it convince him?” queried Jim.
“It stumped him, anyway,” replied Joe. “But sometimes I have a sneaking notion that he thinks yet that Dick and I played some kind of a bunco game on him by doctoring the film.”
“Well, I hope that nobody else stops us,” remarked Clara. “It seems to me that almost everybody in Riverside is on the street this afternoon.”
“It wouldn’t be such an awful mob at that,” replied Jim. “But it’s a safe bet that one man at least won’t stop Joe to shake hands with him.”