"It was only an accident," Johnny said in a mild voice. "I didn't mean to write snow."
"Accident, smaccident," said Harry Bettis. "It was no accident with a record like that. You have the uncanny ability to forecast weather with complete accuracy, Johnny-boy. You realize what that means, old pal?"
"I'd better call Washington and tell them," Chief Botts said, but Harry Bettis held his arm while Johnny mused:
"I guess I realize what it means, Harry. That is, if you're right. No more getting wet on picnics. Because I'd know. I'd know, Harry. No more going to ball games and having them rained out on you. No more being caught by a thunderstorm at the beach ..."
"Johnny!" Harry Bettis said. "Think, pal. Think!"
"I'm calling Washington," Chief Botts said. "This is too much for me."
But Harry Bettis was still holding his arm. "Now, just a minute, bucko," he said. "You're not calling anyone—not without his manager's permission."
"Whose manager's permission?"
"Why, Mr. Sloman's manager's permission, of course. In a word, me."
"This is preposterous!" Chief Botts cried.