room first, and while they were
waiting impatiently for the girls to rejoin them, Joe caught sight of a
letter resting against the clock on the mantelpiece.

He took it up and saw that it was addressed to himself, and that it bore
the postmark of New York. He recognized the handwriting at once.

"It's from McRae," he said. "The second message I've received from the old
boy to-day, counting the telegram this morning. Excuse me, fellows, while
I look it over."

He tore it open hastily and read with glowing interest and excitement.

"The World Tour's a go!" he cried, handing the letter over to Jim. "Mac's
got it all settled at last. When we said good-bye to him in New York it
was all up in the air. But trust Mac to hustle--he's got enough promises
to make up the two teams and now he's calling on us, Jim, to keep our word
and go with the party. We're all to meet in Chicago for the start on the
nineteenth of the month."

"Gee!" exclaimed Jim. "That doesn't give us very much time. Let's see," as
he snatched up a newspaper and scanned the top line. "To-day's the
sixteenth. We'll have to get a wiggle on."

"Bah Jove," lisped Reggie. "It's bally short notice, don't you know? How
long will you fellows be gone?"

"Just about six months," said Joe, his face lengthening as he reflected on
what it meant to be all that time away from Mabel.

"What's all this pow-wow about?" came a merry voice from the door, as the
girls tripped in, their arms about each other's waist.

"I'm glad we girls aren't as talkative as you men," said Clara,
mischievously.

"When we do talk we at least say something," added Mabel. "What is it,
Joe?"

"I'm afraid it's rather bad news in a way," said Joe. "I've just got a
letter from McRae in which he tells me that he's completed all
arrangements for a baseball tour around the world. You know, Mabel, that I
spoke to you about it just before we left New York. But it was only a
vague idea then and something of the kind is talked about at the end of
every baseball season. Usually though, it only ends in talk, and the teams
make a barnstorming trip to San Francisco or to Cuba. But this time it
seems to have gone through all right. And now Mac is calling upon Jim and
me to go along."

"My word!" broke in Reggie, "anyone would think it was a bally funeral to
hear you talk and see your face. I should think you'd be no-end pleased to
have a chance to go."

To tell the truth, neither Joe nor Jim seemed ela