“Wow! If I ever do!” and standing before an imaginary batter Joe flung out his arm as if delivering a swift curve. With a crash his fist hit a picture on the wall and brought it clattering down to the floor.
“What’s that?” called Clara sharply from the next room.
“Oh, I was just practicing pitching,” answered Joe sheepishly, as he picked up the picture, the glass of which had fortunately not broken.
“Well, you’d better practice going to sleep,” responded his sister with a laugh.
Joe smiled. He had great hopes for the future.
CHAPTER VII
LAUGHED AT
“What’s that in your pocket, Joe?”