ys it seemed, while he listened or talked or danced,
his eyes were drawn to a slender, graceful form, and a fair face
crowned with golden hair. Then he was making his way to where she
stood near one of the open windows.

He never knew what he said to her, nor what reply she made, but she put
her arm in his, and presently they were gliding over the polished
floor. To Wayne the dance was a dream. He led her through the hall
and out upon the balcony, where composure strangely came to him.

"Mr. Wayne, I have to thank you for saving the day for us. You pitched
magnificently."

"I would have broken my arm to win that game," burst out Wayne. "Miss
Huling, I made a blunder yesterday. I thought there was a conspiracy
to persuade me to throw down Bellville. I've known of such things, and
I resented it. You understand what I thought. I humbly offer my
apologies, and beg that you forget the rude obligation I forced upon
you."

How cold she was! How unattainable in that moment! He caught his
breath, and rushed on.

"Your brother and the management of the club have asked me to pitch for
Salisbury the remainder of the season. I shall be happy to--if----"

"If what?" She was all alive now, flushing warmly, dark eyes alight,
the girl of his dreams.

"If you will forgive me--if you will let me be your friend--if--Miss
Huling, you will again wear that bit of Yale blue."

"If, Mr. Wayne, you had very sharp eyes you would have noticed that I
still wear it!"

THE MANAGER OF MADDEN'S HILL

Willie Howarth loved baseball. He loved it all the more because he was
a cripple. The game was more beautiful and wonderful to him because he
would never be able to play it. For Willie had been born with one leg
shorter than the other; he could not run and at 11 years of age it was
all he could do to walk with a crutch.

Nevertheless Willie knew more about baseball than any other boy on
Madden's Hill. An uncle of his had once been a ballplayer and he had
taught Willie the fine points of the game. And this uncle's ballplayer
friends, who occasionally visited him, had imparted to Willie the
vernacular of the game. So that Willie's knowledge of players and
play, and particularly of the strange talk, the wild and whirling words
on the lips of the real baseball men, made him the envy of every boy on
Madden's Hill, and a mine of information. Willie never missed
attending the games played on the lots, and he could tell why they