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If we kept up that losing streak a little longer, our hopes for the pennant were gone. I had begun to despair of the Rube. For some occult reason he scarcely spoke to me. Nan flirted worse than ever. It seemed to me she flaunted her conquest of Henderson in poor Whit’s face.

The Providence ball team came to town and promptly signed Henderson and announced him for Saturday’s game. Cairns won the first of the series and Radbourne lost the second. It was Rube’s turn to pitch the Saturday game and I resolved to make one more effort to put the love- sick swain in something like his old fettle. So I called upon Nan.

She was surprised to see me, but received me graciously. I fancied her face was not quite so glowing as usual. I came bluntly out with my mission. She tried to freeze me but I would not freeze. I was out to win or lose and not to be lightly laughed aside or coldly denied. I played to make her angry, knowing the real truth of her feelings would show under stress.

For once in my life I became a knocker and said some unpleasant things–albeit they were true– about Henderson. She championed Henderson royally, and when, as a last card, I compared Whit’s fine record with Henderson’s, not only as a ball player, but as a man, particularly in his reverence for women, she flashed at me:

”What do you know about it? Mr. Henderson asked me to marry him. Can a man do more to show his respect? Your friend never so much as hinted such honorable intentions. What’s more–he insulted me!” The blaze in Nan’s black eyes softened with a film of tears. She looked hurt. Her pride had encountered a fall.

”Oh, no, Nan, Whit couldn’t insult a lady,” I protested.

”Couldn’t he? That’s all you know about him. You know I–I promised to kiss him if he beat Hartford that day. So when he came I–I did. Then the big savage began to rave and he grabbed me up in his arms. He smothered me; almost crushed the life out of me. He frightened me terribly. When I got away from him–the monster stood there and coolly said I belonged to him. I ran out of the room and wouldn’t see him any more. At first I might have forgiven him if he had apologized–said he was sorry, but never a word. Now I never will forgive him.”

I had to make a strenuous effort to conceal my agitation. The Rube had most carefully taken my fool advice in the matter of wooing a woman.

When I had got a hold upon myself, I turned to Nan white-hot with eloquence. Now I was talking not wholly for myself or the pennant, but for this boy and girl who were at odds in that strangest game of life–love.

What I said I never knew, but Nan lost her resentment, and then her scorn and indifference. Slowly she thawed and warmed to my reason, praise, whatever it was, and when I stopped she was again the radiant bewildering Nan of old.

”Take another message to Whit for me,” she said, audaciously. ”Tell him I adore ball players, especially pitchers. Tell him I’m going to the game today to choose the best one. If he loses the game—-”

She left the sentence unfinished. In my state of mind I doubted not in the least that she meant to marry the pitcher who won the game, and so I told the Rube. He made one wild upheaval of his arms and shoulders, like an erupting volcano, which proved to me that he believed it, too.

When I got to the bench that afternoon I was tired. There was a big crowd to see the game; the weather was perfect; Milly sat up in the box and waved her score card at me; Raddy and Spears declared we had the game; the Rube stalked to and fro like an implacable Indian chief –but I was not happy in mind. Calamity breathed in the very air.