But old Jack could not foresee the approaching wave of change that was to leave him stranded as a baseball manager. Nor was Lefty Locke, in spite of the splendid beginning he had made, to find it all fair sailing in the Big League. With Kennedy retired and Lefty missing, following his suspension by the new manager, the Blue Stockings were destined to have their troubles in the fight for the pennant. How old Jack and the young southpaw star returned to the field of battle barely in time to save the day is dramatically told in “Lefty o’ the Blue Stockings,” the third volume of The Big League Series. Brennan chuckled a little over Kennedy’s retort, and then turned to Lefty, his face suddenly serious. “I’ve found out about that fake telegram,” he said, in a low tone. “Jack Stillman ferreted out the truth, and the Hornets won’t have any further use for Elgin.” He walked away without waiting for a reply, leaving Lefty almost bewildered at the events which were coming so thick and fast. In the midst of everything, however, he kept thinking of Janet and wondering whether there was any possible chance of her coming down upon the field. The question was swiftly answered by the appearance of Jack Stillman, elbowing his way through the crowd. “Some pitching for a starter in the Big League, old man,” he laughed, his face glowing; “you were pretty fair! I can’t keep you now, though; there’s somebody over by the stand who wants a word with you. See you in the clubhouse, later.” Taking his friend by the arm, he piloted him through the throng, now beginning to stream toward the gates, to a point from which he could see the girl he had been thinking about so much. She stood near one of the lower boxes of the center stand, a slim, graceful figure in a blue tailor-made gown. At a little distance her friends were gathered, watching the animated scene interestedly. Janet herself was talking earnestly to Buck Fargo, but her eyes were quick to spy out Lefty as he approached. The glad smile she gave him was something to be treasured long in his memory. “Lefty!” she exclaimed, in a low voice, which vibrated with emotion. She took a quick step forward; their hands met. “I can’t tell you how glad and proud I am――and sorry.” The man held her hands for an instant. His face was puzzled. “Sorry?” he repeated. “What have I done to make you sorry?” Her lovely eyes were fixed earnestly on his. Fargo had slipped away. “Nothing,” she returned hastily. “What you have done is splendid――wonderful! It’s what I did that makes me sorry. Mr. Fargo has just told me everything, and I hate myself when I think how I――liked that dreadful Mr. Elgin――and tried to make you friends, and――and――” She stopped abruptly and bit her lip. Lefty looked around. Never before had he detested a crowd with such intensity. His eyes flashed back to hers, and something in their expression brought a vivid rush of crimson flaming to her face.