"Now look here, Bannard," said Clancy sharply, "when I signed this contract it was with the agreement that I was to run the business on the ball field and let your end of it alone. I'm perfectly willing to oblige a stockholder, but I'm going to win this pennant, and I'll do what I please with the playing end of the game. If Adonis looks good warming up he'll go in, if he don't I'll send someone else to the slab--and that goes." "Well--have it your own way"; the president had surrendered entirely to the aggressive manager. "Put him in if you can, and if you can't I'll explain that he wasn't right--twisted himself or something." Clancy went to his room puzzled and annoyed and, as usual, he sought advice and enlightenment by consulting Mrs. Clancy, whose abundant good nature and portliness formed a striking contrast with his seriousness and slenderness. "Willie," she said, laying down her sewing after Clancy had stood at the window, whistling and gazing out for ten minutes without saying a word. "Well, Willie--who has broken a leg or sprung a Charlie horse now?" "Nothing much, mother," said the big manager quietly. "Nothing much--just worrying a little over the way things are going." "Bill Clancy," she ejaculated indignantly. "Do you think you can fool anyone with that talk? Do you think I could live with you eighteen years, come next Martinmas, and not know when you're in trouble? Tell your old lady what it is." "Sure, mother," he said fondly, coming to put his arm around her waist. "Haven't you enough troubles of your own?" "Me have troubles?" She was indignant. "Nothing troubles me but worrying over those pesky boys of yours. What's wrong now, Willie?" "One of the boys out skylarking last night--and drinking." "Saints forgive him," she said piously, but with a note of relief. "Sure you'll not be fining the poor boy? Perhaps he needed a drink or two to keep up his courage." "Nothing like that, mother," he replied seriously. "This was one of the young fellows out with some gamblers drinking wine till past midnight. It looks serious." "Now, Bill Clancy, you just send for that boy to come right up here and talk it over. Tell him he must behave and explain what it means to all the boys. Then you'll shame him and he'll be a good boy. They're all good boys," she protested earnestly, "only they do try a poor woman." "I guess that's the best plan, mother," he said. "You trot over into the other room and I'll have him up." "Which one is it this time, Willie?" "McCarthy!" "McCarthy--why, Willie, he wouldn't--there's some mistake. That poor boy wouldn't do such a thing. And him grieving his heart out because Betty Tabor won't treat him well any more. That's what's the trouble, Willie." "We'll see what it is," said the manager, checking her flow of defense curtly. "I'll have him up. You run into the other room with the sewing and--don't listen."