"I've never met them," observed Clara.
"No," spoke Joe, musingly. "Well, you may soon. Why!" he went on, "they're coming to-day—on the afternoon express. I must go down to the station to meet them, though the train is likely to be late, if this snow keeps up. Whew! see it come down!" and he went over to the window and looked out.
"It's like a small blizzard," remarked Clara, "and it seems to be growing worse. Doesn't look much like baseball; does it, Joe?"
"I should say not! Say, I believe I'll go down to the station, anyhow, and see what the prospects are. Want to come, Sis?"
"No, thank you. Not in this storm. Where are the Varleys going to stop?"
"At the hotel. Reggie has some business in town, Mabel writes. Well, I sure will be glad to see him again!"
"Him? Her, you mean!" laughed Clara. "Oh, Joe, you are so simple!"
"Humph!" he exclaimed, as he put the two letters into his pocket—both of great importance to him. "Well, I'll go down to the station."
Joe was soon trudging through the storm on the way to the depot.
"The St. Louis 'Cardinals'!" he mused, as he bent his head to the blast, thinking of the letters in his pocket. "I didn't think I'd be in line for a major league team so soon. I wonder if I can make good?"