“Nothing in the world,” replied Jim. “Clara is well and it is one of the most delightful letters the dear girl has ever written. I was just feasting on it when suddenly I didn’t know anything. But I’m ashamed to think that I should topple over that way. And just at this time too, when Mabel was coming.”
“Don’t think of that twice,” said Mabel. “I’m so relieved to know that the thing wasn’t as serious as I feared. How are you feeling now?”
“The old bean is getting steady again,” replied Jim. “But my arm feels queer. Something like a pin cushion with all the pins strictly on the job.”
“Give it to me,” commanded Joe, and he rubbed the afflicted member till it glowed and the queer symptoms disappeared.
“Well, that’s that,” said Jim as he adjusted his collar and tie and smoothed his rumpled hair. “Now let’s forget the whole thing. It makes me feel sheepish every time I think about it. And above all, Mabel, don’t breathe a thing about it to Clara. She would worry herself to death about it and after all it’s only a trifle.”
Mabel promised, and they were soon chatting gayly about other matters. Mabel could stay for only a few days, as she had promised a visit to her parents at Goldsboro.
But she and Joe made the most of those golden days while they lasted. Mabel’s mornings passed rapidly in shopping and sightseeing, her afternoons were spent at the Polo Grounds, and in the evenings they took in some of the best theaters and concerts in the metropolis.
All too soon the visit was over and Mabel departed, but not until after arranging for a much longer visit as soon as the Giants should have returned from their next western trip.
Two days after the queer occurrence in their rooms, it was Jim’s turn to go into the box. He entered it with the confidence born of a long series of recent victories.