MABEL
Joe Matson stood spell-bound for a second or so, staring at the valise
which had such an interest for him in two ways. It meant the presence at
the hotel of the girl who had awakened such a new feeling within him,
and also it recalled the unpleasant occasion when he had been accused of
rifling it.
"What's the matter, Matson?" asked Gus Harrison, the big centre fielder,
who stood directly behind the young pitcher, waiting to register. "Have
you forgotten your name?"
"No--oh, no!" exclaimed our hero, coming to himself with a start.
"I--er--I was just thinking of something."
"I should imagine so," commented Harrison. "Get a move on. I want to go
to my room and tog up. I've got a date with a friend."
As Joe turned away from the desk, after registering, he could not
refrain from glancing at the odd valise. He half expected to see Reggie
Varley standing beside it, but there was no sign of Mabel's brother.
"Quite a coincidence that she should be stopping at this hotel," thought
Joe, for a quick glance at the names on the register, ahead of those of
the ball team, had shown Joe that Miss Varley's was among them. "Quite a
coincidence," Joe mused on. "I wonder if she came here because she knew
this was where the team always stops? Oh, of course not. I'm getting
looney, I reckon."
Then, as he looked at the valise again another thought came to him.
"I do wish there was some way of proving to young Varley that I didn't
take the stuff out of it," reasoned Joe. "But I don't see how I can
prove that I didn't. It's harder to prove a negative than it is a
positive, they say. Maybe he has found his stuff by this time; I must
ask him if I get a chance. And yet I don't like to bring it up again,
especially as she's here. She doesn't know of it yet, that's evident, or
she'd have said something. I mean Reggie hasn't told her that he once
suspected me."
Joe went to his room, and made a much more careful toilet than usual. So
much so that Charlie Hall inquired rather sarcastically:
"Who's the lady, Joe?"
"Lady? What do you mean?" responded Joe, with simulated innocence.
"Oh, come now, that's too thin!" laughed the shortstop. "Why all this
gorgeousness? And a new tie! Upon my word! You are going it!"
"Oh, cut it out!" growled Joe, a bit incensed.
But, all the while, he was wondering how and when he would meet Mabel.
Would it be proper for him to send her his card? Or would she know that
the ball team had arrived, and send word to Joe that he could see her?
How were such things managed anyhow?
Joe wished there was some one whom he could ask, but he shrank from
taking into his confidence any of the members of the team.
"I'll just wait and see what turns up," he said.
Fate was kind to him, however.
Most of the ball players had gone in to dinner, discussing, meanwhile,
the weather probabilities. There was a dreary drizzle outside, and the
prospects for a fair day to follow were remote indeed. It meant almost
certainly that there would be no game, and this was a disappointment to
all. The Pittston team was on edge for the contest, for they wanted
their chance to get to the top of the league.
"Well, maybe it's just as well," confided Gregory to Jimmie Mack. "It'll
give the boys a chance to rest up, and they've been going the pace
pretty hard lately. I do hope we win, though."
"Same here," exclaimed Jimmie earnestly.
As Joe came down from his apartment, and crossed the foyer into the
dining room, he turned around a pillar and came face to face with Reggie
Varley--and his sister.
They both started at the sight of the young pitcher, and Mabel blushed.
Joe did the same, for that matter.
"Oh, why how do you do!" the girl exclaimed graciously, holding out her
hand. "I'm awfully glad to see you again! So you are here with your
team? Oh, I do hope you'll win! Too bad it's raining; isn't it? Reggie,
you must take me to the game! You remember Mr. Matson, of course!"
She spoke rapidly, as though to cover some embarrassment, and, for a few
seconds, Joe had no chance to say anything, save incoherent murmurs,
which, possibly, was proper under the circumstances.
"Oh, yes, I remember him," said Reggie, but there was not much cordiality
in his tone or manner. "Certainly I remember him. Glad to meet you again,
old man. We haven't forgotten what you did for sis. Awfully good of you."
Joe rather resented this tone, but perhaps Reggie could not help it. And
the young pitcher wondered whether there was any significance in the way
Reggie "remembered."
Young Varley glanced over toward where his odd valise had been placed,
in a sort of checking room.
"Excuse me," he said to his sister and Joe. "I must have my luggage sent
up. I quite forgot about it."
"Then there isn't any jewelry in it this time," spoke Joe significantly,
and under the impulse of the moment. A second later he regretted it.
"No, of course not. Oh, I see!" exclaimed Reggie, and his face turned
red. "I'll be back in a moment," he added as he hurried off.
Mabel glanced from her brother to Joe. She saw that there was something
between them of which she knew nothing, but she had the tact to ignore
it--at least for the present.
"Have you dined?" she asked Joe. "If you haven't there's a vacant seat
at our table, and I'm sure Reggie and I would be glad to have you sit
with us."
"I don't know whether he would or not," said Joe, feeling that, as his
part in the story of the valise and the missing jewelry would have to
come out sometime, now was as good as any.
"Why--what do you mean?" asked Mabel in surprise.
"Hasn't he told you?" demanded Joe.
"Told me? Told me what? I don't understand."
"I mean about his watch and some of your jewelry being taken."
"Oh, yes, some time ago. You mean when he was up North. Wasn't it too
bad! And my lovely beads were in his valise. But how did you know of
it?"
"Because," blurted out Joe, "your brother accused me of taking them!"
Mabel started back.
"No!" she cried. "Never! He couldn't have done that!"
"But he did, and I'd give a lot to be able to prove that I had no hand
in the looting!" Joe spoke, half jokingly.
"How silly!" exclaimed the girl. "The idea! How did it happen?"
Joe explained briefly, amid rather excited ejaculations from Mabel, and
had just concluded when Reggie came back. He caught enough of the
conversation to understand what it was about, and as his sister looked
oddly at him, he exclaimed:
"Oh, I say now, Matson! I was hoping that wouldn't get out. I suppose I
made rather a fool of myself--talking to you the way I did, but----"
"Well, I resented it somewhat at the time," replied Joe, slowly, "but I
know how you must have felt."
"Yes. Well, I never have had a trace of the stuff. I was hoping sis,
here, wouldn't know how I accused you--especially after the plucky way
you saved her."
"I thought it best to tell," said the young pitcher, quietly.
"Oh, well, as you like," and Reggie shrugged his shoulders. "It was
certainly a queer go."
"And I'm living in hope," went on Joe, "that some day I'll be able to
prove that I had no hand in the matter."
"Oh, of course you didn't!" cried Mabel, impulsively. "It's silly of
you, Reggie, to think such a thing."
"I don't think it--now!"
But in spite of this denial Joe could not help feeling that perhaps,
after all, Reggie Varley still had an undefined suspicion against him.
"I say!" exclaimed Joe's one-time accuser, "won't you dine with us? We
have a nice waiter at our table----"
"I had already asked him," broke in Mabel.
"Then that's all right. I say, Matson, can't you take my sister in? I've
just had a 'phone message about some of dad's business that brought me
up here. I've got to go see a man, and if you'll take Mabel in----"
"I shall be delighted."
"How long will you be, Reggie?"
"Oh, not long, Sis. But if I see Jenkinson to-night it will save us time
to-morrow."
"Oh, all right. But if I let you off now you'll have to take me to the
ball game to-morrow."
"I will--if it doesn't rain."
"And you'll be back in time for the theatre?"
"Surely. I'll run along now. It's awfully good of you, Matson, to
take----"
"Not at all!" interrupted Joe. The pleasure was all his, he felt.
He and Mabel went into the hotel dining room, and Joe's team-mates
glanced curiously at him from where they sat. But none of them made any
remarks.
"It was dreadful of Reggie, to accuse you that way," the girl murmured,
when they were seated.
"Oh, he was flustered, and perhaps it was natural," said Joe. "I did sit
near the valise, you know."
"I know--but----"
They talked over the matter at some length, and then the conversation
drifted to baseball. Joe had never eaten such a delightful meal, though
if you had asked him afterward what the menu was made up of, he could
not have told you. It was mostly Mabel, I think, from the soup to the
dessert.