"Then it was only the money you cared for," he said bitterly. "Uncle Jim said it was, and I quarreled with him for saying it--and it was true." "You put it coarsely," she said coldly. "You cannot expect me to give up the luxuries Uncle Barney provides for me and marry a ball player. Unless you make it up with your uncle I shall consider myself free." A stifled exclamation, like a gasp of surprise, startled them, and a rustle of retreating garments in the adjoining parlor caused McCarthy to step quickly to the doorway. He was just in time to recognize the gown. He realized that Betty Tabor had overheard part of the conversation, and he wondered how much. "Some eavesdropper, I suppose," Miss Baldwin remarked carelessly. "She came by accident, probably to read, and departed as soon as she realized it was a private conversation," he said warmly. "Then you know her?" she asked quickly. "Yes," he replied, realizing he had betrayed undue interest in the defense. "Who is she?" the girl demanded. "One of the women with the team, daughter of the secretary," he explained, striving to appear unconcerned. "Is she pretty?" "Why--yes--I don't know. She is very pleasant and nice looking." "Rather odd, isn't it, a woman traveling with a lot of tough ball players?" "You are unjust," he exclaimed indignantly. "She is with her father and Mrs. Clancy. Besides, the ball players are not tough--at least none of them is while she is with the club." "You seem ready to rush to her defense," she remarked with jealous accents. "Of course, I cannot let you think she is not a nice girl." "Of course not"----her tone was sarcastic. "Traveling around the country with a crowd of men and eavesdropping in hotel parlors." "She would not do such a thing. You must not speak of her in that way," he stormed indignantly. "I congratulate her upon having captured so gallant a champion," she mocked. They were verging upon a sharper clash of words when a big man, heavy of jaw and red of face, strolled into the parlor, not taking the trouble to remove his hat. "Oh, here you are, Helen," he said. "I've been looking everywhere. Time to start or we'll be late to bridge." "Uncle Barney," said the girl, rising, "this is Mr.--oh, I forget. What is it you call yourself now?--McCarthy. I knew him when he was at college. He plays on some baseball team--one of those we saw to-day. Mr. McCarthy, this is my uncle, Mr. Baldwin." "I have heard of you often, Mr. Baldwin," said McCarthy coolly, although fearful that Baldwin might remember him. "You're McCarthy, the new third baseman, eh?" asked Baldwin, without offering his hand and merely glancing at the boy. "Saw you play to-day. Too bad you threw that game away." "I"----McCarthy started to offer defense. "We must be going, Helen," said Baldwin. The girl extended her hand carelessly. "We hope to have the pleasure of seeing you again," she said.