“I don’t. I blame him for showing it, or, at least, proclaiming it. If I’m manager, I’m going to manage. If I can’t manage, I’m not manager. Which is it?” “Why, you’re manager, of course, Dick. But—Jack won’t like being suspended. In fact, he will probably get mad and quit altogether.” “I don’t think so,” replied Dick. “But that’s his look-out. He’s suspended for a week—if I’m manager.” “All right,” muttered Gordon. “Of course, you realize that leaves us in a hole next Saturday, Dick. Jack’s one of our best players, and I don’t know where we’ll find anyone to take his place.” “Neither do I yet. But we’ve got a whole week to find someone. He’d be suspended, though, if he was the last player on the team.” “Are you going to tell him?” asked Gordon uneasily. Dick smiled. “Evidently you don’t care to?” “I surely don’t.” “Yes, I’ll tell him. He ought to know it, though, because I usually mean what I say. You needn’t mention it to anyone to-day. I’ll have a talk with him to-morrow, maybe.” “He’ll quit flat-footed,” mourned Gordon. Dick smiled again. “I don’t believe so. I think I know Jack a little better than you do, Gordie.” The next afternoon, an hour or so after dinner, Dick called Gordon on the telephone. “Can you come around here for a few minutes?” he asked. “Yes, I was just starting, Dick. Anything up?” “Not much. I wanted to talk to you about a chap for Jack’s place.” “Oh! You—you haven’t changed your mind about that, then?” “No.” Dick’s voice sounded amused. “Well——” Gordon frowned at the telephone instrument. “I’ll be over right away, Dick.” Dick was on the porch, in spite of the fact that it was raining briskly, and his sister, Grace, was with him. Grace was thirteen and a very pretty girl, with dark hair and eyes. She was enveloped in a long apron and had her sleeves rolled up to her elbows and explained to Gordon that she was in the middle of washing up the dinner dishes. “Dick called me out to read me a perfectly ridiculous story in the paper,” she laughed. “Read to Gordon, Dick, and see if he thinks it funny.” Dick laughed. “Grace was born without a sense of humor, Gordie, and I find I can’t educate her.” “Sense of humor!” scoffed Grace. “That story isn’t the least bit funny. I’ll leave it to Gordon.” She jumped up. “I must finish those dishes.” “What’s the story?” asked Gordon, seating himself well away from the dripping vines. “The story? Oh, never mind that! Jack’s just been here.” “He has? Well—what—how did he take it?” asked Gordon anxiously. Dick gravely regarded the point of one shoe. “Well, I’ll tell you the last thing he said as he went off, Gordie. He said: ‘Tell Gordon I know a fellow named Shores who works in the plating factory. He’s a pretty good ball player. If you like, I’ll talk to him and see if he will play for us Saturday.’” Gordon viewed his friend with admiration, and shook his head helplessly. “I don’t see how you manage folks the way you do, Dick,” he said.