"Oh, I've struck a bad streak—can't hit or throw."
"Are you a quitter?"
"No, I'm not," he answered quickly, flushing a dark red.
"You started off this spring with a rush. You played brilliantly and for a while led the team in batting. Uncle George thought so well of you. Then came this spell of bad form. But, Billie, it's only a slump; you can brace."
"I don't know," he replied, despondently. "Awhile back I got my mind off the game. Then—people who don't like me have taken advantage of my slump to——"
"To knock," interrupted Miss Ellston.
"I'm not saying that," he said, looking away from her.
"But I'm saying it. See here, Billie Sheldon, my uncle owns this team and Pat Donahue is manager. I think they both like me a little. Now I don't want to see you lose your place. Perhaps——"
"Madge, that's fine of you—but I think—I guess it'd be best for me to leave Kansas City."
"Why?"