astride the rubber.

A flash, a slide, a cloud of dust. Then the umpire, flapping a
flippant thumb skyward. Then a berserker roar of rage, a pandemonium
of fury beside which Babel was a soundless desert. And from
leather-like lungs four inches from Helen's ear, in a voice which could
have brought the glad news from Ghent to Aix without leaving the
first-named city at all, came:--

"Hey, you big wart! The bush for yours!"

But the umpire thus unflatteringly described and assigned was obdurate,
the run did not count, and the game went on. However, it was won in
that inning by the combination of two more safe hits, and the checked
paeans rang their fill. If there was a heart in all that great
amphitheater not beating to the tune of the forty thousand, it must
have been some unfortunate outlander who could only watch, reserving
his own delirium until some more fortunate era beneath more friendly
stars.

But at last, when all was over and the great crowd reluctantly
dissolved, swarming the diamond, Smith and Miss Maitland sought the
exit in silence.

"When it puts one in such intimate touch with forty thousand of your
fellow beings," said Smith, reflectively, "it seems worth while, now
and then, to be what is commonly termed a low-brow."

"Is it really worth while," asked Helen, "to be anything else?"

CHAPTER XI

If Mr. Edward Eggleston Murch had had nothing to do but attend the
meetings of the various boards of which he was a director, his time
would still have been reasonably well employed and he would have
enjoyed an income sufficient at least to keep him in cigars of the
standard to which his eminence entitled him. Mr. Murch's private
secretary held a position requiring quick-wittedness and suavity in no
common degree. Hardly a day went by that the ring of the phone did not
serve as preamble for some such colloquy as this:

"Hello. Mr. Murch's office?"

"Yes."

"Mr. Murch in?"

"No. Can I do anything for you?"

"The W., T., and G. have called their annual meeting for election of
officers on Friday the sixth. How about ten-thirty? Is that all right
with Mr. Murch?"

"Wait a minute. Ten-thirty, you said? No, Mr. Murch has the
International Corkscrew meeting at ten. Can't they push W., T., and G.
into the afternoon?"

"I'll let you know later. Good-by."

And later it was arranged to suit Mr. Murch. If there were a pie in
Mr. Murch's vicinity which Mr. Murch's finger was not in