He reached over and slapped his friend cordially on the shoulder. Then he signaled for the chauffeur to stop.
“What are you getting out here for?” asked Joe. “We haven’t got to your street yet.”
“I know it,” answered Jim, preparing to jump out. “I want to give you a chance to think up what you’re going to say to the lady fair,” he added, mischievously.
He ducked the friendly thrust that Joe made toward him and went away laughing, while the cab started on.
Joe knew perfectly well what he intended to say when he should meet Mabel Varley. He had wanted to say it for a long time, and had determined that if his team won the pennant he would wait no longer.
He had met her for the first time two years before under unusual circumstances. At that time he was playing in the Central League, and his team was training at Montville, North Carolina. He had saved Mabel from being carried over a cliff by a runaway horse, and the acquaintance thus formed had soon deepened into friendship. With Joe it had now become a much stronger feeling, and he had dared to hope that this was shared by Mabel.
Reggie Varley, Mabel’s brother, was a rather affected young man, who ran chiefly to clothes and automobiles and had an accent that he fondly supposed was English. Joe had met him at an earlier date than that at which he had formed Mabel’s acquaintance and under unpleasant conditions. Reggie had lost sight of his valise in a railway station, and had rashly accused Joe of taking it. He apologized later, however, and the young men had become the best of friends, for Reggie, despite some foolish little affectations, was at heart a thoroughly good fellow.
The brother and sister had come to New York to see the deciding games and were quartered at the Marlborough Hotel. Mabel had waved to Joe from a box at the Polo Grounds that afternoon, and her presence had nerved him to almost superhuman exertions. And he had won and won gloriously.
Would his good luck continue? He was asking himself this question when the taxicab drew up at the curb, and he saw that he was at the door of the Marlborough.
He jumped out and thrust his hand in his pocket to get the money for his fare, but the chauffeur waved him back with a grin.