“King of Northern pitchers and queen of Southern women,” put in McRae. “It’s a winning combination.”
“I’ll admit the part about the women,” agreed Joe.
“And I’ll admit the part about the pitchers,” said Mabel, her smile enhanced by a bewitching dimple.
“Then we’re all happy,” laughed McRae. “But now I’m going to ask the queen to let the king come along with Robbie and me into the smoking car for a while. I’ve got a little business to talk over.”
“Hold on to me, Mabel,” cried Joe, in mock alarm. “Mac wants to fire me, but he won’t do it as long as I’m with you.”
“I’m not very much worried,” responded Mabel, merrily. “For that matter, I shouldn’t wonder if you were honing to get rid of me. Go along now, and I’ll console myself with a magazine until you get back.”
The three men went into the smoking car and settled themselves comfortably. Then when the two older men had lighted cigars, McRae hurled a question.
“Joe, how would you like to be captain of the Giants?” he asked.
Joe was completely taken aback for a moment.