“Just the sort of thing he would do!” laughed Mr. Hall. “Sent you along without a letter of introduction, eh? Well, I’m very glad to know you, Mr. Craig. Any friend of John’s is my friend.” He shook hands again heartily. “Where did you meet him? Hold on, though, I must get back to the office. Can’t you come along and tell me about it? Or are you busy just now?” “No, sir, I haven’t anything to do.” “Then come along. We can talk better at the office. Much obliged, Pollock. And, come to think of it, I don’t know but what I’ll call off that golf to-morrow and see you chaps play instead. I suppose you’re going to pitch?” “Yes, sir, and Sam’s to catch. Maybe you’d be willing to umpire for us?” “Thank you for your sweet thought, Pollock, but I’m too useful a member of this community to risk my life. I’ll yell for you, but I’d rather not take chances.” CHAPTER XXI MR. HALL TALKS BASEBALL On the way to the office Sam narrated the story of his meeting with Mr. York, and his companion chuckled at intervals. Sam had not concluded his narrative when they passed through the door of the Adams Building and entered the elevator. Up they shot to the tenth floor and there Mr. Hall led the way to an office on the side of the building. The door held the inscription, “John T. Hall, Attorney and Councillor-at-Law.” The office was small, but light and cheerful, and was plainly furnished. Mr. Hall hung his Panama on a hook behind the door and pulled a chair forward for his visitor, seating himself at his desk between the two broad windows. “Now we can be comfortable,” he said. “So John said he’d write me a letter, eh?” “Yes, sir. Didn’t he--hasn’t he----” “No, nor ever will,” laughed the other. “I’ve known him for almost twenty years and I’ve never had but three letters from him! He hates them like poison; writing them, I mean. But it doesn’t matter a bit, Craig. I’m just as glad to know you as if he’d written twenty pages about you. Besides, you can tell me more than he can, anyway. You live here in Amesville, of course?” “Yes, sir, on Curtis Street.” “Then we’ll soon get acquainted. Your name sounds familiar to me, by the way. Have I met your father, perhaps?” “No, sir, he’s dead. There’s just my mother and sister and me, sir. You might have met my sister, though. She does typewriting here. She has a room on the third floor.” “Of course! Miss Craig and I have had a lot of business together. So she’s your sister, is she? Well, she’s a fine, smart girl, Craig, and a good stenographer, too, by George! I suppose you and John talked baseball a good deal, eh?” “Yes, sir, quite a lot.” “And he gave you a heap of advice, too, I’ll wager!” “Yes, sir, some.”