The remainder of the afternoon was one long trial for Lefty Locke. He was under the necessity of keeping up an appearance of light-hearted indifference before the girls, when all the time he simply ached to be out there on the diamond. He saw Redmond pitching the sort of ball to delight the veterans, who batted him mercilessly. He saw Elgin, backed by the whole strength of the regular team, make a showing such as he had never made before. He saw the cubs mowed down, snowed under, beaten to a frazzle; and all the time he had to laugh and joke and fight down any signs of the bitter disappointment which filled his soul. Janet, knowing him as she did, realized something of what he must be feeling, and tactfully refrained from any comments on Elgin’s pitching. Neither did she tell Lefty how sorry she was at the way things had gone, and for that he was thankful. It seemed as if Janet Harting’s pity would have been the last straw. When the last inning ended, with a score of nine to three in favor of the regulars, she further won his gratitude by suggesting to Jean that they leave the field at once, before the crowd started, and take Lefty with them. He accepted with alacrity. When they put him down at the hotel, he said good-by to Miss Forsythe, then held out his hand to Janet. “Thank you,” he said in a quiet voice as she took it. The girl smiled understandingly into his eyes. “Come and see us soon,” was all she said, as the car moved away. Of course, the principal topic of conversation that night was the wonderful exhibition of pitching shown by Elgin. Some of the newspaper men, in particular, were more than enthusiastic, hailing him as the most promising youngster Brennan had discovered, and predicting a bright future for him. The older players had seen too many “infant phenoms” to be in the least impressed; they knew, moreover, how much of his success had been due to their own assistance. The cubs were too downcast over their defeat to think of anything else. Redmond was wearing a grouch, and Locke’s stock began to soar when Ogan expressed a belief at the supper table that if the southpaw had been put in, as he desired, the result would have been quite different. Lefty missed Jack Stillman and was beginning to wonder where he was when the reporter suddenly issued from the elevator, about eight o’clock, and hurried over. “Had to get my copy off,” he explained. “Say! Have you seen old Oggie?” “You don’t mean Oggie Wilmerding!” Lefty exclaimed incredulously. “Surest thing you know! The old lobster was here when we got back from the field this afternoon. He’s traveling for the Wood’s Hoisting Engine Company. Talk about class! Oh, hush!” Lefty grinned. “Oggie always did have a hankering for lugs,” he chuckled. “But he’s all right, just the same. Where do you suppose he’s gone?” “Give it up. He said something about seeing a man the first thing in the morning, but perhaps he’s hunting him up to-night.”