"Oh, the kid's all right with an old head back of the plate. He's wild, though, and will never make good in fast company. I won his game today. He wouldn't have lasted an inning without me. It was dead wrong for Pat to pitch him. Dalgren simply can't pitch and he hasn't sand enough to learn." A hot retort trembled upon Madge Ellston's lips, but she withheld it and quietly watched Carroll. How complacent he was, how utterly self-contained! "And Billie Sheldon--wasn't it good to see him brace? What hitting! . .. That home run!" "Sheldon flashed up today. That's the worst of such players. This talk of his slump is all rot. When he joined the team he made some lucky hits and the papers lauded him as a comer, but he soon got down to his real form. Why, to break into a game now and then, to shut his eyes and hit a couple on the nose--that's not baseball. Pat's given him ten days' notice, and his release will be a good move for the team. Sheldon's not fast enough for this league." "I'm sorry. He seemed so promising," replied Madge. "I liked Billy--pretty well." "Yes, that was evident," said Carroll, firing up. "I never could understand what you saw in him. Why, Sheldon's no good. He----" Madge turned a white face that silenced Carroll. She excused herself and returned to the parlor, where she had last seen her uncle. Not finding him there, she went into the long corridor and met Sheldon, Dalgren and two more of the players. Madge congratulated the young pitcher and the other players on their brilliant work; and they, not to be outdone, gallantly attributed the day's victory to her presence at the game. Then, without knowing in the least how it came about, she presently found herself alone with Billy, and they were strolling into the music-room. "Madge, did I brace up?" The girl risked one quick look at him. How boyish he seemed, how eager! What an altogether different Billie! But was the difference all in him! Somehow, despite a conscious shyness in the moment she felt natural and free, without the uncertainty and restraint that had always troubled her while with him. "Oh, Billie, that glorious home run!" "Madge, wasn't that hit a dandy? How I made it is a mystery, but the bat felt like a feather. I thought of you. Tell me--what did you think when I hit that ball over the fence?" "Billie, I'll never, never tell you." "Yes--please--I want to know. Didn't you think something--nice of me?" The pink spots in Madge's cheeks widened to crimson flames. "Billie, are you still--crazy about me? Now, don't come so close. Can't you behave yourself? And don't break my fingers with you terrible baseball hands.... Well, when you made that hit I just collapsed and I said----" "Say it! Say it!" implored Billie. She lowered her face and then bravely raised it. "I said, 'Billie, I could hug you for that!' ... Billie, let me go! Oh, you mustn't!--please!"