Meantime, the telegraph machine had been industriously ticking and Miss Millicent writing as industriously, while the bystanders were talking in low tones.
"A message for Mr. Heaton," said the operator, with perfect composure, as she folded and placed in an envelope, duly addressed, a telegraph despatch which she handed to Mr. Heaton.
"Hateful old thing!" murmured Miss Ida Boardman, "she has had that message all the time and said nothing about it until she got good and ready."
"Hush!" said Alice, in a sort of stage whisper, "let us hear the news."
Mr. Heaton, having glanced hurriedly over the despatch, cried, "Good news from the boys! Hear this!" A dead silence prevailed in the office as the beaming miller read:—
Hurrah for our side! First two innings over. Catalpas score two. Black Hawks none. Great excitement in Sandy Key. Everything lovely.
ALBERT.
"Hooray!" broke from many lips, and the waiting crowd below the windows, hearing the cry, took it up and a fusillade of irregular and scattering hurrahs scattered along the street. Judge Howell, who had lingered during the noonday recess of his court, admonished the crowd that the lady at the telegraph desk would be embarrassed by the confusion, whereupon the company went out and added their joy to that of the assemblage that crowded around a bulletin that was at once posted by the door of The Catalpa Leaf office.
"What did I tell you, Alice," said Miss Ida, regardless of the fact that she had told her nothing. "Didn't I say that the Catalpas would win?"
"But the game has only just begun," said Alice. "I am still hoping and fearing, and I am not going to be put off of my base, so to speak, by the first news which happens to be good. Only two innings, Ida; remember that."