able and let things stay quiet for a while?

And how about that small place with flowers and a tennis court and a
motor to go marketing in? Did they believe he was made of money? About
all he could do was to provide a place big enough for a growing dog. And
Breede, of course, would cast the girl off penniless, as they always
did, telling her never to darken his doors again. And he'd have to find
a new job. Breede wouldn't think of keeping on the scoundrel who had
lured his child away.

Still, the flapper's mind was set on an early marriage, and, for this
once, at least, he would let her have her own way. No good being brutal
at the start. They would get along; scrimp and save; even move to
Brooklyn, maybe. He looked into the far years and saw his son, greatest
of all left-handed pitchers, shutting out Pittsburgh without a single
hit. A very aged couple in the grandstand tried to claim relationship
with his pitching marvel, saying he was their grandson, but few of the
yelling enthusiasts would credit it. One of the crowd would later
question the phenomenon's father, who was none other than the owner of
the home team, and he would say, "Oh, yes, quite true, but there has
been no communication between the two families for more than twenty
years."

There would now follow from the abject grandparents timid overtures for
a reconciliation, they having at last seen their mistake. These
overtures met with a varying response. Sometimes he was adamant and told
them no; they had made their bed twenty years before, and now they could
lie on it. Again, he would relent, allowing them to come to the house
and associate with their superb descendant once every week. He didn't
want to be too hard on them.

And he was not penniless. He would continue in the unexciting express
business for a while, until he had amassed enough to buy the ball-team.

Out at his typewriter, turning off Breede's letters, his mind kept
reverting to those nicely printed stock certificates Aunt Clara had sent
to him, five of them for ten shares each, his own name written on them.
Of course there were hundreds of shares at the brokers', but those
seemed not to mean so much. And they had gone down a point, whatever
that was, since his purchase. The broker had explained that this was
because of an unexpectedly low dividend, 3 per cent. It showed bad
management. All the more reason for getting a new man on the Board--a
lot of old fossils!

He recalled the indig