“Joe’s getting to be quite a boy,” remarked Mr. Jacob Anderson, one of Riverside’s enthusiastic baseball supporters, to his friend, Mr. James Blake.
“Yes, he’s a wonderful pitcher, I hear. Seems sort of queer how the boys grow up. Why, only a few years ago he was a small chap, playing around the vacant lots.”
“Yes, time does manage to scoot along,” spoke the other. “Well, I guess we’ll see a good game.”
As Joe and Tom paused for a brief consultation before opening the performance, the catcher, glancing toward the grandstand, uttered a surprised exclamation.
“What’s the matter?” asked Joe.
“That fellow with my sister—I meant to tell you about him. He was over to your house the other night, when he and sis, and Charlie Masterford called on your sister.”
“Oh, ho! So it was Charlie that Clara was fixing up for!” exclaimed Joe. “I’ll have some fun with her. I guess she’s at the game to-day. But what about the fellow with your sister?”
“He’s a Yale man.”
“A Yale man—you mean a graduate?”