“That’s the way to look at it,” broke in Jim heartily. “Let’s take a squint at the whole article and see how much fire there is in all this smoke.”
“And read it out loud,” said Clara. “I’m just as much of a baseball fan as either of you two. And Momsey is, too, after all the World’s Series games she’s seen played.” 4
It is to be feared that Mrs. Matson’s eyes had been so riveted on Joe alone, in that memorable Series when he had pitched his team to victory, that she had not picked up many points about the game in general. But anything that concerned her darling boy concerned her as well, and she let her sewing lie unheeded in her lap as Joe read the story from beginning to end.
“Seems to be straight goods,” remarked Jim, as Joe threw the paper aside.
“They’ve got the money all right,” rejoined Joe. “They’ve got two or three millionaires who are willing to take a chance and put up the coin.”
“One of the names seems to be rather familiar,” remarked Jim, with a sidewise look at Joe. “Do you remember him?”
“I remember him,” replied Joe grimly, “but I’d bet a dollar against a plugged nickel that he remembers me better yet.”
“Who is it?” asked Clara with quickened interest.
“Beckworth Fleming,” replied Joe.
“Rather a pretty name,” remarked Mrs. Matson absently.