THE COMING OF REGGIE
The happy conference had been so animated and there had been so many
things to talk about that Joe gave a start when he glanced at his watch.
“Great Scott!” he exclaimed. “I didn’t think it was anywhere near so
late as that. I’ll have to get a move on, if I’m going to meet Reggie.”
“Do you think he’ll be here today?” asked Mrs. Matson.
“There’s no telling what Reggie will do,” laughed Joe. “He’s a law unto
himself. All that he said in his telegram was that he was coming on. But
it’s possible for him to get here this afternoon and I have a hunch that
he’ll be here by the first train he could catch after he sent the wire.”
“Of course he’ll stay with us while he’s in town,” said his mother.
“You can be sure that Joe wouldn’t let Mabel’s brother go to a hotel,”
put in Clara, demurely.
Joe pretended not to hear.
“I’ve got some other things to do too,” he said, as he rose from the
table, “so I guess I’d better be starting.”
“What other things?” asked Clara.
“First of all, I’ve got to get some bamboo poles and rig up things for a
moving picture stunt in the gymnasium,” replied her brother. “I met Dick
Talbot this morning and he promised to come over and take a film of my
curve ball in a day or two. Professor Crabbe is as hard to move as the
rock of Gibraltar, but I guess he’ll pull in his horns after Dick and I
show him a thing or two.” And much to their amusement, he told them of
the controversy he had had with the doughty professor.
“Then too,” he went on, “I’ll have to practise like the mischief now
until I receive notice to start for the training camp. A good deal
depends on first impressions, and I want to show McRae that he hasn’t
picked a lemon.”
“Oh, dear,” sighed Mrs. Matson, “I hate to hear you talk of going away.
I grudge every day you’re away from Riverside.”
“Never mind, Momsey,” said Joe, cheerily, as he kissed her. “It’ll be
some time before I have to go and, after I do, I’ll keep the mails
working overtime.”
He put on his hat and coat and started out, walking as swiftly and
lightly as though he trod on air. The atmosphere was crisp and bracing,
his blood coursed strongly through his veins, and the world had never
before seemed so good a place to live in.
He turned his steps first toward the gymnasium. He had found this place
of the greatest value to him through the winter season. He had not
practised so hard that there was danger of his going “stale” before the
actual beginning of the season, but he had done just enough work to keep
him in superb physical condition and hold the flesh down. There was
scarcely an ounce of superfluous flesh upon his bones and he felt as
though he could go in the box tomorrow if he were called upon. He never
dissipated--had never touched a drop of liquor in his life--and one
might have gone a long way before finding a more perfect specimen of the
athlete than Joe presented that afternoon.
He found several of his chums awaiting his coming, and of course the
first thing he did was to tell them of the great news that had come to
him that morning.
“The New York Giants!”
“Bully for Joe!”
“Some class to old Riverside, eh?”
“They’ll win the pennant sure, now!”
“You’ll have a look-in at the World’s Series, Joe!”
They all crowded round with warm and hearty congratulations and wrung
his hand until he winced.
“Don’t take my arm off, boys,” he laughingly protested. “I need the old
soup bone in my business.”
“I wish I could tell you all about it, fellows,” he went on, in reply
to their eager request for particulars, “but honestly, I don’t know any
more about it than you do yet. I suppose I’ll get a contract to sign in
a day or two, and perhaps there’ll be something about it in the New York
papers when they get here tomorrow morning. All I know now is that I’m
going to play this year in New York. That is,” he jested, “unless McRae
finds out he’s been buncoed and fires me.”
“Swell chance of anything like that!” exclaimed Tom Davis. “I’ll bet
you’ll take your regular turn in the box from the very start.”
“I’m not so sure of that,” answered Joe. “McRae puts a great deal of
faith in his veterans, and the chances are I’ll have to warm the bench
until some of the others fall down. You know how it was with Markwith,
the ‘eleven thousand dollar beauty.’ McRae kept him on the bench for
nearly two years, scarcely using him at all, but giving him a chance to
learn the ‘inside stuff’ by watching the others. Then when he was ripe,
McRae put him in and he went through the league like a prairie fire. He
may do the same thing with me.”
“Stuff and nonsense,” declared Tom, loyally. “You’re as good a pitcher
now as Markwith ever dared to be. Besides Markwith came from a minor
league while you’ve already had a year’s experience in the National
League with St. Louis.”
“I’m afraid it’s your friendship rather than your judgment that’s
talking now, Tom,” answered Joe. “Markwith has won nineteen straight,
right off the reel, and that’s some little record, let me tell you. But
I surely am going to do my best, not only on my account but so as not to
disappoint my old friends. Take off your coat now and I’ll toss you up a
few just to get my wing good and supple.”
Tom complied, and there was some spirited pitching practice which
demonstrated that Joe was in fine fettle. All his curves worked finely,
and there was a world of speed behind the high fast ball that he
occasionally cut loose.
“I’m afraid I’ll have to stop now,” said Joe reluctantly, after half
an hour of good practice, as he looked at his watch. “I’ve got to stop
at Brigg’s store to get a couple of bamboo poles, and then I have to
go down to the station to meet a friend whom I rather expect by the
four-thirty-five. I’m sorry, too, for I’m just getting warmed up and I’d
like to keep going for an hour yet.”
He said goodby to his chums, and, after having stopped in the store to
make his purchases, strolled down to the railroad station, to await the
possible coming of Reggie. He was eager to find out all the meaning of
the queer message he had received, and it is barely possible that he was
still more eager to have some tidings of Reggie’s sister.
He had to cool his heels in the depot for some time, as the train was
late, and it was fully an hour after its usual time when it finally
rolled into the station.
There were several day coaches and but one parlor car, and Joe made his
way straight toward this, knowing that Reggie, who looked for the best
in everything, would travel in no other.
In the first few who came down the steps he noted no familiar figure,
and he was beginning to think that Reggie for some reason had deferred
his trip when he caught sight of that young man coming leisurely from
the Pullman. If he had not seen the face he would have had a moral
certainty that it was Reggie, for he was dressed in an extreme of style
that was not at all common in the quiet little town of Riverside.
Reggie was an amiable young man who could not by any stretch of
imagination be described as an intellectual giant. Many in fact would
have had no hesitation in classing him as a “lightweight.” But he had
many qualities that redeemed his foppishness, chief among which, in
Joe’s estimation, was that he was a rabid baseball “fan,” and above all
was the brother of Mabel. This last would alone have been capable, like
charity, of covering a multitude of sins.
He had a tiny little moustache curled up at the ends that gushing girls
would have described as “darling,” his clothes were a suit of English
tweeds, and he had an accent and a vocabulary that he made as English as
possible.
“Hullo, old top!” he exclaimed, as he saw Joe. “I’m awfully glad to see
you, don’t you know. It was no end good of you to come down to meet me,
especially as I hadn’t told you just when I was coming.”
“That’s all right, Reggie,” smiled Joe, as he grasped his hand
cordially. “I knew you must have been rather cut up when you sent that
telegram and forgot to tell me the train you were taking. But it seems
like old times to see you again. How’s every one down at Goldsboro?”
“Fine as silk,” responded Reggie. “If I hadn’t had to rush off in
such a hurry, I’d have brought Mabel along with me just for the trip.
She’s awfully anxious to see your sister, Clara, don’t you know. It’s
astonishing how those girls have taken to each other.”
“Clara feels the same way,” responded Joe warmly. “She’s done little
else but talk of Mabel since the last time she was here. But give me
your check, old man, and I’ll attend to your baggage. Of course you’ll
stop with us while you are here. That goes without saying.”
Reggie made a feeble protest as a matter of form, saying that he ought
to go to the hotel, but he readily submitted to be overruled by Joe. The
latter tossed the check to the station hackman with instructions to get
Reggie’s valise, and when this was done the two friends took the hack
and were whirled through the quiet streets to Joe’s home.
By tacit consent, neither spoke of the real object of Reggie’s visit to
Riverside just then. There would be plenty of time for that when they
should be alone after supper and have nothing to interrupt them.
“Beastly cold weather, what?” said Reggie, as he turned up the collar of
his overcoat.
“It is pretty sharp,” agreed Joe; “but nothing to what it was the last
time you were here. That was a blizzard for fair. Remember how we were
all upset in the snow when we were trying to get to town from the train
stalled in a snowdrift?”
“I remember, all right,” laughed Reggie. “We certainly had a fight for
life that night.”
“And what a thoroughbred your sister was that night,” continued Joe, who
was always anxious to bring the conversation round to Mabel. “Where lots
of girls would have gone into hysterics, she was as cool and brave as
any man could have been.”
“Mabel has class,” agreed Reggie carelessly. “I recall how she held the
horses’ heads while we were righting the sleigh. Some plucky girl!”
“You bet she is!” responded Joe, with an enthusiasm that might have
seemed suspicious to Reggie if the latter had not been so wrapped up in
his own affairs that his talk with Joe was rather absent-minded and made
no strong impression on him.
Joe was not long in discovering that Reggie’s trouble, whatever it was,
sat heavily on him. He relapsed into monosyllables until the Matson home
was reached.
The hearty welcome he received from all the members of the family
thawed him out somewhat, and during the meal that followed--a meal into
which Mrs. Matson had put all her housewifely skill because of the
expected guest--he was more like the gay, care-free Reggie that they had
previously known.
He was especially delighted to know of the change in Joe’s fortunes, and
congratulated him heartily on his transfer to New York.
“If you work for them as well as you worked against them, there’ll be no
kick coming on the part of McRae,” he prophesied. “In that last game you
played in New York you had the Giants eating out of your hand.”
“Let’s see,” said Joe, with affected carelessness, “your sister was
with you that time, wasn’t she?”
“You’d think she was if you heard how many times she’s referred to that
game since then,” answered the unsuspecting Reggie. “Mabel always did
like to see a good game, but this last year or so, she’s become more of
a fan than ever.”
Clara, glancing at her brother, felt that she could make a shrewd guess
why Mabel had developed such an increased interest in baseball, but the
presence of Reggie put a spoke in her eager desire to tease Joe for the
fun of seeing him blush.
“You’re lucky to have the thing happen just now, when the fans are
beginning to get hungry for baseball news,” commented Reggie. “The
newspapers will play up the deal for all that it is worth, and your
picture and record will be on every big sporting page in the country.”
“Perhaps that won’t be an unmixed blessing,” laughed Joe. “It’ll make
the public expect too much, and the disappointment will be all the
greater if I don’t make good.”
“I’ll take chances on that,” replied Reggie emphatically. “There isn’t a
better aim than yours in the league, and the whole country will be ready
to admit it before the season is over.”
The talk ran on pleasantly for an hour or two after the supper was over.
Clara played and sang, and Reggie dutifully turned her music for her and
made himself agreeable to Mrs. Matson. But all felt that Reggie had
a revelation to make to Joe, and as soon as courtesy would permit the
other members of the family said good night and left the two young men
to themselves.
There was a cozy open fire burning in the grate and they drew up their
easy chairs before its cheerful glow, facing each other.
“Now, Reggie,” said Joe, with a quizzical smile, “tell me the sad story
of your life. Go to it, old man. Tell me about Talham Tabbs.”