Mabel Varley and her brother had come to St. Louis, stopping off on business, and Joe had called on them.
"I'm coming out to see you play," Mabel announced after the greetings at the hotel.
"I'm afraid you won't," said Joe, somewhat gloomily.
"Why not?" she asked in surprise. "Aren't you on the pitching staff?"
"Yes, but perhaps you haven't been keeping track of where the Cardinals stand in the pennant race."
"Oh, yes, I have!" she laughed, and blushed. "I read the papers every day."
"That's nice. Then you know we're pretty well down?"
"Yes, but the season isn't half over yet. I think you'll do better."
"I sure do hope so," murmured Joe. "But, for all that, I am afraid you won't see me pitch to-day. Mr. Watson won't dare risk me, though I think I could do some good work. I'm feeling fine."
"Oh, I do hope you get a chance!" Mabel exclaimed enthusiastically. "Anyhow, I'm going to have one of the front boxes, and there are to be some girl friends with me. You know them, I think—Hattie Walsh and Jean Douglass."