Few girls would have been so hard-hearted as to let such a handsome young fellow as Jim die of grief, and Clara had no intention of hastening his demise by excessive cruelty on her part. So she assented, though with the proper degree of maidenly hesitation, and they began merrily to map out plans for the coming week.
Joe, seated with Mabel on one side and his mother on the other, had also been enjoying himself hugely through the dinner, while Reggie and Mr. Matson found plenty to talk about in discussing the events of the day. The time passed all too swiftly and before they knew it they had to begin preparations for the journey.
“Let’s look at the weather probabilities for to-morrow,” said Joe, buying an evening paper at the newsstand as they passed through the Grand Central Terminal.
“Um—cloudy and unsettled,” he read.
“That means that we’ll have to get busy and win in the first five innings before the rain comes,” laughed Jim.
“It ought to be a good day to pitch Markwith,” returned Joe. “With a cloudy day and that blinding speed of his they won’t be able to see the ball.”
The two young athletes saw their party to their car, and after a few moments of pleasant chat bade them good-night and repaired to the Pullmans that had been reserved for the Giant team.
All were in a most jovial mood and filled with highest hopes for the morrow. Joke and banter flew back and forth, until the watchful McRae asserted the claims of discipline and sent them all to their berths.
The next morning when they drew the curtains, they found that the weather man’s prognostications had been correct. Dull, leaden-colored clouds chased each other across the sky and a bleak wind came from the east.