“Isn’t that glorious!” declared Mabel with unaffected enthusiasm. “I’ve been wanting to have a chance to congratulate you ever since I heard the news. It’s a great step forward, and it’s wonderful when you think that you’ve only been in the league a year. But I’m not a bit surprised, after seeing some of the games you pitched last year. That last one you pitched in New York was just splendid.”
“Do you know why it was so good?” said Joe, earnestly, bending toward her. “It was because I had a mascot in the grandstand that day and I simply couldn’t lose.”
“Is that so?” asked Mabel, innocently. “Dear me, how very interesting! I’ve always heard that ball players were superstitious. What kind of a mascot was it?”
“Why,” said Joe, “it had brown eyes and the most beautiful wavy hair, and a lot of dimples and——”
“Oh, look at that funny little farmhouse,” hastily remarked Mabel, looking out of the window. “Did you ever see anything so quaint?”
But Joe, who had not the slightest interest in quaint farmhouses just at this moment, persisted:
“As I was saying, this mascot——”
“Yes,” interrupted Mabel, “but tell me one thing that I’m just dying to know. Do you think the New Yorks will win the pennant this year?”
And Joe, despite himself, was forced to bow to her will and change the subject. But he mentally resolved that he would yet tell her what he wanted to about that mascot.