“Well, I’ll have to be pretty much on the jump, Sis. But I’ll get home whenever I can. And if ever you get near where the Pittston club is playing—that’s my team, you know—” and Joe pretended to swell up with pride—“why, just take a run in, and I’ll get you box seats.”
“I’m afraid I don’t care much for baseball,” sighed Mrs. Matson.
“I do!” cried Clara with enthusiasm. “Oh, we’ve had some dandy games here this Spring, Joe, though the best games are yet to come. The Silver Stars are doing fine!”
“Are they really?” Joe asked. “And since they lost my invaluable services as a twirler? How thoughtless of them, Sis!”
Clara laughed.
“Well, they miss you a lot,” she pouted, “and often speak of you. Maybe, if you’re going to be home a few days, you could pitch a game for them.”
“I wouldn’t dare do it, Clara.”
“Why not, I’d like to know,” and her eyes showed her surprise.
“Because I’m a professional now, and I can’t play in amateur contests—that is, it wouldn’t be regular.”