that
is what counts. So I hope you make good with the St. Louis team--I
suppose 'make good' is the proper expression," she added, with a smile.

"It'll do first-rate, Momsey," laughed Joe. "Now let's see what else
Gregory says."

He glanced over the letter again, and remarked:

"Well, there's nothing definite. The managers are laying their plans for
the Spring work, and he says I'm being considered. He adds he will be
sorry to lose me."

"I should think he would be!" exclaimed Clara, a flush coming into her
cheeks. "You were the best pitcher on his team!"

"Oh, I wouldn't go as far as to say that!" cried Joe, "though I
appreciate your feeling, Sis. I had a good bit of luck, winning some of
the games the way I did. Well, I guess I'll go look up some St. Louis
records, and see what I'm expected to do in the batting average line
compared with them," the player went on. "The St. Louis team isn't a
wonder, but it's done pretty fair at times, I believe, and it's a step
up for me. I'll be more in line for a place on the New York Giants, or
the Philadelphia Athletics if I make a good showing in Missouri,"
finished Joe.

He started from the room, carrying the two letters, one of which he had
not yet opened.

"Who's it from?" asked Clara, with a smile, as she pointed to the heavy,
square envelope in his hand.

"Oh, one of my many admirers," teased Joe. "I can't tell just which one
until I open it. And, just to satisfy your curiosity, I'll do so now,"
and he proceeded to slit the envelope with his pocket-knife.

"Oh, it's from Mabel Varley!" he exclaimed.

"Just as if you didn't know all the while!" scoffed Clara. "You wouldn't
forget her handwriting so soon, Joe Matson."

"Um!" he murmured, non-committally. "Why, this is news!" he cried,
suddenly. "Mabel and her brother Reggie are coming here!"

"Here!" exclaimed Clara. "To visit us?"

"Oh, no, not that exactly," Joe went on. "They're on a trip, it seems,
and they're going to stop off here for a day or so. Mabel says they'll
try to see us. I hope they will."

"I've never met them," observed Clara.

"No," spoke Joe, musingly. "Well, you may soon. Why!" he went on,
"they're coming to-day--on the afternoon express. I must go down to the
station to meet them, though the train is likely to be late, if this
snow keeps up. Whew! see it come down!" and he went over to the window
and looked out.

"It's like a small blizzard," remarked Clara, "and it seems to be
grow