“That’s easily fixed. Yes, I’m going to pitch.”
“Against whom?”
“The Fayetteville Academy, on their grounds. It won’t be much of a game, and I’m not to go in until it’s in the ice box——”
“In the ice box?”
“Yes, the refrigerator you know—safe. Then I’m to try my hand at putting ’em over. Of course I’d like to go the whole nine innings but I can’t have everything at the start. It’s mighty decent of Darrell to give me this chance. Aren’t you glad, sis?”
“Yes, of course I am. I’d like to see the game, but I’ve used up all of my allowance for this week, and——”
“Here!” and Joe held out a dollar. “Blow yourself, sis.”
“Oh, what horrid slang!”
“I mean go to the game on me. I’ll stand treat. Take a girl if you want to and see yours truly do himself proud.”
Joe hunted up his mother to tell her the good news. He found her in the room which his father had fitted up as a workshop since the suspicious actions of Mr. Benjamin at the harvester factory. Mrs. Matson was looking over some papers, and there was on her face the same worried look Joe had seen there before.