“Yes,” agreed Jimmie Mack, “that fade-away of his is a wonder, thanks to Pop Dutton.”
“Pop himself is the greatest wonder of all,” went on Gregory. “I never believed it possible. I’ve seen the contrary happen so many times that I guess I’ve grown skeptical.”
“He and Joe sure do make a queer team,” commented the assistant manager. “Joe watches over him like a hen with one chicken.”
“Well, I guess he has to. A man like Pop who has been off the right road always finds lots of temptation ready and waiting to call him back. But Joe can keep him straight.
“Now come over here. I want to talk to you, and plan out the rest of the season. We’re in a bad way, not only financially, but for the sake of our reputations.”
If Joe could have heard this he would have worried, especially about the financial end. For he counted very much on his baseball money—in fact, his family needed it greatly.
Mr. Matson’s savings were tied up in investments that had turned out badly, or were likely to, and his expenses were heavy on account of the doctor’s and other bills. Joe’s salary was a big help. He also earned something extra by doing some newspaper work that was paid for generously.
But Joe counted most on the final games of the series, which would decide the pennant. These were always money-makers, and, in addition, the winning team always played one or more exhibition games with some big league nine, and these receipts were large.
“But will we win the pennant?” queried Joe of himself. “We’ve got to—if dad is going to have his operation. We’ve just got to!”
The news from home had been uncertain. At one time Dr. Birch had decided that an operation must be performed at once, and then had come a change when it had to be delayed. But it seemed certain that, sooner or later, it would have to be undertaken, if the inventor’s eyesight was to be saved.