icent sight--that beautiful green field and the
stands. What a crowd of fans! Why, I never saw a real baseball crowd
before. There are twenty thousand here. And there's a difference in
the feeling. It's sharper--new to me. It's big league baseball. Not
a soul in that crowd ever heard of you, but, I believe, tomorrow the
whole baseball world will have heard of you. Mr. Morrisey knows. I
saw it in his face. Captain Spears knows. Connie knows. I know."

Then she lifted her face and, pulling him down within reach, she kissed
him. Nan took her husband's work in dead earnest; she gloried in it,
and perhaps she had as much to do with making him a great pitcher as
any of us.

The Rube left the box, and I found a seat between Nan and Milly. The
field was a splendid sight. Those bleachers made me glow with
managerial satisfaction. On the field both teams pranced and danced
and bounced around in practice.

In spite of the absolutely last degree of egotism manifested by the
Philadelphia players, I could not but admire such a splendid body of
men.

"So these are the champions of last season and of this season, too,"
commented Milly. "I don't wonder. How swiftly and cleanly they play!
They appear not to exert themselves, yet they always get the ball in
perfect time. It all reminds me of--of the rhythm of music. And that
champion batter and runner--that Lane in center--isn't he just
beautiful? He walks and runs like a blue-ribbon winner at the horse
show. I tell you one thing, Connie, these Quakers are on dress parade."

"Oh, these Quakers hate themselves, I don't think!" retorted Nan.
Being a rabid girl-fan it was, of course, impossible for Nan to speak
baseball convictions or gossip without characteristic baseball slang.
"Stuck on themselves! I never saw the like in my life. That fellow
Lane is so swelled that he can't get down off his toes. But he's a
wonder, I must admit that. They're a bunch of stars. Easy, fast,
trained--they're machines, and I'll bet they're Indians to fight. I
can see it sticking out all over them. This will certainly be some
game with Whit handing up that jump ball of his to this gang of champs.
But, Connie, I'll go you Whit beats them."

I laughed and refused to gamble.

The gong rang; the crowd seemed to hum and rustle softly to quiet
attention; Umpire McClung called the names of the batteries; then the
familiar "Play!"

There was the usual applause from the grand stan