“I think I’m going to get on the Stars!” exclaimed Joe, when he got a chance to tell of his experiences that day.
“That’s good,” said Mr. Matson heartily. “There’s no game like baseball.”
“But it doesn’t fit a boy for anything,” complained Mrs. Matson. “It doesn’t help in any of the professions.”
“It’s a profession in itself!” declared Joe stoutly.
“I hope you don’t intend to adopt it,” spoke his sister.
“Oh, I don’t know. I might do worse. Look at some of those big New York players getting thousands of dollars a year.”
“But look how long it takes them to get to that place,” objected Clara, who liked to argue.
“Oh, well, I’m young yet,” laughed Joe.
In his room that night, while preparing for bed Joe got to thinking of the possibility mentioned by Darrell Blackney.
“I’m going to play my head off in centre field,” said Joe, “and I’m going to practice batting, too. Stick work counts. I’m going to practice pitching, also. Who knows, maybe I’ll get a chance in the box if Sam ever slumps.