“That certainly sounds good,” laughed Joe. “But suppose I should be batted out of the box? I wouldn’t dare show my diminished head among you folks then.”
“We’re not worrying a bit about that,” put in Clara, looking proudly at her idolized brother.
But the question was not to be settled on the morrow, for when the day dawned in Boston the rain was falling steadily, and the weather predictions were that the rain would continue for the greater part of the day.
For once, at least, the much maligned weather prophet was right, for at noon the rain had not abated, and, much to the disgust of the expectant public, the game was declared off.
By the rules that had been made to cover such an event, the teams were to stay in Boston until the first fair day should permit the game to be played.
The different members of Joe’s party were rather widely scattered, when the sun finally peeped out in the course of the afternoon. Reggie had taken his sister out to a country club where he had a number of acquaintances. Mrs. Matson and Clara were doing some shopping in the Boston stores and Mr. Matson had gone out for a stroll.
Joe and Jim had been downtown with the rest of the team having a heart-to-heart talk with McRae and Robson about the strategy to be adopted in the forthcoming games.
By four o’clock the sun was shining gloriously and the roads were beginning to dry out. Just the day, Joe thought, to hire a runabout just big enough for two and take Mabel out for a spin.
He conjectured that by the time he got the car and reached the hotel Mabel would have returned from her trip with Reggie and be ready for him.
“Come along, Jim, and help me to pick out the car,” he said.