“Well,” says Mary, “now that they ain’t no more chance o’ me spoilin’ your trip, I think you might bring Mr. Shy round.”
“She means the kid,” I says to Joe. “I told her all about him.”.
“Have you seen him?” Joe ast her.
“O’ course I seen him,” she says.
“What do you think of him?” says Joe.
“Well, gentlemen,” she says, “I don’t want to hurt the feelin’s o’ the present company, so I’ll just keep still.”
“He is a pretty kid,” says Martin, “and he’s a whole lot better-lookin’ since I coaxed him into some decent clothes. But he don’t want to meet no girls.”
“They’s no sense to it,” I says. “It wouldn’t hurt him a bit to mingle a little with the dames. It’d do him good. And he’d get along OK when he found out they wasn’t all tryin’ to steal him.”
“I’ll promise not to steal him,” says Mary.
“Well, it’s up to Joe, here,” I says. “He’s his best pal.”
“I guess he’d come if I ast him,” says Martin. “But I don’t know if I want to take a chance.”
“Oh, come on!” says Mary. “I don’t feel comfortable when they’s one o’ your boys I ain’t acquainted with.”
“Well,” says Joe, “maybe he’s up in his room takin’ a nap.”
“If he is in his room,” says I, “that’s probably what he’s doin’. It’s a cinch he ain’t readin’.”
“Why not?” says Mary.
Joe give me the wink.
“He hates books,” I says.
It was just then that the kid come across the lobby, toward the front windows. He looked like he was goin’ to cry.
“My! He needs cheerin’ up,” says Mary. “Do you suppose he’s sick?”
“You bet he’s sick,” says Martin. “He was goin’ to give your Tigers another lickin’ today, and the rain beat him out of it.”
“Well, how about callin’ him over?” I says.
So Martin went up to him and made the proposition. I could see the poor kid blush and then start like he was goin’ to run out in the rain. Then Joe grabbed ahold of his arm and begin arguin’ with him. And finally the pair o’ them come toward us. Nobody only Joe could of done it.
“Miss Lloyd,” says Martin, “this is another o’ the boys, Mr. Crosby. He’s disappointed about the rain and I thought maybe you could cheer him up.”
Mary give him her best smile.
“I’m glad to meet you, Mr. Crosby,” she says. “You’re the first ball player I ever seen that was disappointed about the rain.”
“Except when it didn’t fall,” I says.
The kid didn’t say nothin’; didn’t even look at her. I caught him moistenin’ his lips, tryin’ to get a word out. But he couldn’t. He seen her put her hand out to shake, and he finally managed to meet it. But he done it with the one he uses in pitchin’. And then, the minute Martin left go his arm, he backed away, pivoted on a pillar and dashed for the elevator.
“Good night!” says Mary. “Well, of all the rummies!”
“We warned you,” says Martin.
“You certainly cheered him up,” I says—“all the way up to his room.”
“He can stay there, for all o’ me,” she says. “I won’t never try to force my acquaintance on nobody again.”
“I bet he’s offen me for life,” says Joe.
“You ought to be glad if he is,” she says.
“But you got to admit he’s a handsome brute,” says I.
“Yes,” says Mary; “and I’d like to scratch his handsome face to pieces.”
When we got on the train that night Harry Childs come up to me.
“Bill,” he says, “I believe I’m goin’ to win out.”
“Win out what?” I ast him.
“With Mary,” he says. “I took her out to supper. It was the first time she ever let me do it. And she acted like she really was fond o’ me.”
“Here’s luck, Harry!” I says.
I didn’t tell him the reason she was so friendly. It was because she’d been stung. And Harry’s attentions was salve.
We was in Detroit again the first week in July. Harry took her out to supper or a picture show, or somethin’, every night. I never heard her mention Crosby, and I was scared to mention him in front of her.
I did see her try to get even though. She come out from behind her desk one mornin’, just as he was walkin’ in from outside. She got right in his way, so as he either had to run into her or dodge. And he couldn’t help lookin’ at her. She looked him right in the eye and didn’t speak.
And the kid looked like he was mighty glad of it.
VI
Young Patrick got hurt and Childs was back in the game when we went East in August. Harry was full o’ pep.
“I’ll show ’em I can hit,” he says to me. “I never felt luckier in my life.”
“You don’t need no luck to hit if you take care o’ yourself,” I says.
“Don’t worry about that,” he says. “I got to keep in shape. I’m tryin’ to save the coin.”
“What for?” I ast him.
“Well, Bill,” he says, “I’m kind o’ figurin’ on gettin’ married.”
“Nice work, Harry!” I says. “I didn’t know you’d gone as far as that.”
“They’s nothin’ settled,” he says. “But she’s writin’ to me, and when we strike Detroit next month I’ll make her say yes.”
Harry started to paste that pill in Philly. He broke up two games for us there and got seven blows in three days. He was the pepper kid when
