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THE SUNDAY OREGOXIAN, FORTLAyP, MAY 24, I90S. 5
WJmOFMOC
BV FORD
ATAL& WHEREIN PROFESSOR 5H0RTY MS CASE, ON SHOST NOTICE, &ms &1J mOPS SQOAL NSASm.
WELL, it was Ilka this: I starts out
to buy a. bull pup. I might have
w w eot htm, too. If It hadn't been for
lhjo finpnoodie; but, seein' the way
things turned out, I don't bear no
grudge. It was the Doe I met first. I'd
seen him drifttn' up and down the stairs
once or twice, but didn't pipe him off
special. There's too many freaks around
Forty-second street to keep cases on all
of 'em.
But one day about a month ago I was
sittin in the front office here, gettln'
the earache' from hearing Swifty Joe
tell about what he meant to Jo to Gans
that last time, when the door swings
open so hard it most takes the hinges
off, and we sees a streak of arms and
legs and tall hat making a dive under
the bed couch In the corner..
"They've most got the range, Swifty,"
says I. "Two feet to the left and you'd
been a bull's-eye. What you got your
mouth open so wide for? Goin' to try
to catch the next one in your teeth?"
Swifty didn't have time to uncork- any
repartee before some one struck, the
landing outside like they'd come down
a flight of foidin" steps feet first, and
a little sharp-nosed woman with pur
ple flowers in her hat bobs in and squints
once at each of us. Say, I don't want
to be looked at often like that! It felt
like bein' sampled with a cheese tester.
"Did Montgomery Smith just come In
here?" says she. "Did he? Don't lie,
now! Where is he?" and the way she
jerked them little black eyes around
was enough to tear holes in the mat
ting. "Lady " says I.
"Don't lady me, Mr. Fresh!" says she,
throwin' the gimlets my way. "And tell
that broken-nosed chlld-stealer over there
' to take that monkey grin off'n his face
or I'll scratch his eyes out."
"Hully chee!" yellB Swifty, throwin'
I back somersault through the gym door
and snappin' the lock.
"Anything more, miss?" says I. "We're
here to please."
"Humph!" says she. "It'd take some
thin' better than you to please me."
"Glad I was born lucky," thinks I, but
thought it under my breath.
"Is my Monty biding in that room?"
says she, jabbln a finger at the gym.
"Cross my heart, he ain't," says I.
"I don't believe you could think quick
enough to lie," says she, and with that
she nips out about as fast as she came
in.
I didn't stir until I hears her hit the
lower hall. Then I bolts the door, goes
and calls Swifty down off the top of the
swingln' rope, and we come to a parade
rest alongside the couch.
"Monty, dear Monty," says I, "the
cyclone's passed out to sea. Come out
and give up your rain check."
He backs out feet first, climbs upon
the couch, and drops his chin Into his
hands for a minute, while he gets over
the worst of the shock. Say, at first
sight he wa'n't a man you'd think any
woman would lose her breath tryin' to
catch, less'n she was his landlady, and
that was what I figures out that this fe
male peace disturber was.
Monty might have been a winner once,
but It was a long spell back. Just then
he was some out of repair. He had a
head big enough for a college professor,
and a crop of hair like an herb doctor,
but his eyes were puffy underneath, and
you could see by the cafe au lalt tint to
his face that his Uver'd been on a long
strike. He was fairly thick through the
middle, but his legs didn't match the
rest of htm. They were too thin and
too short.
"If I'd known you was comln' I'd had
the scrub lady dust under there." says
I: "but it won't need It now for a couple
of weeks."
He makes a stab at sayin' something,
but his breath hadn't come back yet.
He revives enough, though, to take a
look at his clothes. Then he works his
ilk dicer up off'-n his ears, and has a
peek at that. It was a punky Ud, all
right,' but it had saved a lot of wear
and tear on his cocoa when he made
that slide for home plate, and struck
the wall.
"Was this a lon-distance run, or just
a hundred-yard sprint?" says I. "Never
. mind, if it comes hard. I don't blame
you a bit for side-steppln1 a heart-to-heart
talk with any such rough-and-ready
converser as your friend. I'd do the
same myself."
He looks up kind of grateful at that,
and stieks out a soft, lady-like paw for
me to shnke. Say, that wasn't such a
IN WHICH HE SHOWS THE TRAITS OF CHARACTER WHICH PLUG FOR SUCCESS IN BASEBALL, AND COMPARES IT WITH OTHER LINES OF ENDEAVOR
BY JIM NAS1UM.
"0!
. N the level," continued the Old
Sport,asthe players bunched up
in the hotel corridor, "you ball-
. players stack up against a proposition
that doesn't exist In any other busi
ness. If you're chalking up odds in a
banking Joint, dealing out tripe In a
butcher shop, or handing out Scrip
tural dope from the pulpit, you can
pull off a dozen mistakes for a day and
get away with it; and still be rated as
a pretty fair sort of a success in the
world. The doctor buries every mis
take he makes, the lawyer shoves his
Into a dungeon and it Is advertised to
the world as an act of Justice, but the
ballplayers' mistakes are hooted at by
10.000 howling Dervishes, who thirst
for his gore, and are advertised in
every paper in the land so that 'he who
runs may read,' and he is hailed as a
dub throughout the entire universe
every time he slips up in the pinches.
"In any other business, if you are a
corking good man, you are touted as
the real goods at all times and the
world slops the salve all over your
foosles, and if you are a shallow
headed dub they hand you wads of
sympathy and plug for you all they can
if you are a good, fellow. But let me
tell you, that In baseball there is no
guy who- is so good that he isn't often
called a dub and a lot of other filings
. that aren't exactly rated as proper
garb for a pink tea social, and there is
no dub so much on the punk that he
isn't occasionally a hero.
"There's nothing to it, boys, success
In baseball demands a blamed sight
more logical reasoning powers, a clearer
head and cooler nerve, and more con
tempt for the public eye than ever
showed Its mug in any other business
joint. Take the situation that a ball
player finds himself butting into dally:
The bases populated, two out. one run
needed to tie up and ave the day, and
a guy has to grab his cudgel and face
this situation with the success of the
whole day's business resting upon his
shoulders and 10,000 pairs of eyes fo
cused upon his effort. The pitcher
poises the ball aloft, starts to wind up,
and that guy knows that in two more
minutes he will be either a dub or a
hero. Take the ordinary successful
bualneea man. and atauk him up agauut
slow play, either! He was tbo groggy to
say a word, but he comes pretty near
wlnnln' me right there. I sets -Swifty
I tf V k , - ,
IliliplSIii
l . X V 'A J
: i , .
s My Monty Hiding In That Roor?"
to work on him with the whisk-broom,
hands out a glass of Ice-water, and in
a minute or so his voice comes back.
Oh, yes, he had one. It was a little
shaky, but, barrin' that, it was as smooth
as mayonnaise. And language! Why.
Just teliln" me how much obliged he was,
he near stood the dictionary on Its head.
There wasn't no doubt of his warm feelln'
for me by the time he was through. It
was almost like bein' adopted by a rich
uncle. "
"Oh, that's all right," says I. "You
can use that couch any time the dts
appearin fit comes on. She was hot on
the trail: eh. Monty T'
"It was all a painful, abs'urd error,"
says he. "a mistake in identity, I pre
sume. Permit me to make myself known
to you," and he shoves out his card.
Rasmulli Pinphoodle, J. R. D. that
was the way it read.
. "Long ways from Smith, ain't it?"
says I. "The first of it sounds like a
Persian rug." .
"My Hindu birth name," says he.
I'd have bet you wa'n't a domestic
filler," says I. "The Pinphoodle is ling
lish. ain't it?" ,
He smiles like I'd asked him to split a
pint with me, and says that it was.
"But the tag on the endv-J. R. D. I
passes up," says I. "Don't stand for
Judge of Rent Dodsers, does it?"
"Those letters," says he, makln' an
other merry face, "represent the symbols
of my Vedic progression."
"If I'd stop to think I'd fetched that,"
says I.
It was a Jolly. I've never had the
Vedic progression anyways, not hard
enough to know It at the time, but I
wa'n't goin" to let him stun me.-
Later on I got next to the fact that
he was some kind of a healer, and that
the proper thing to do was to call him
Doc. Seems he had a four-by-nine office
on the top floor back, over the studio,
and that he was H startin' to intro
duce the Vedic stunt in New York.
Mostly he worked the mail-order racket.
He showed me his ad in the Sunday
personal column, and it was all to the
velvet Accordin' to his own specifica
tions he was a head-liner in the East
Indian philosophy business, whatever that
was. He'd Just torn himself away from
the crowned heads of Europe for an
American tour, and he stood ready to
ladle out advice to statesmen, tinker up
broken hearts, forecast the future, and
man nut thn rnaji to TATellville for mil
lionaire of their fee.1.
He sure had a full bag of tricks to
draw from; but I've noticed that the
more glass balls you try to keep in the
air at once, the surer you are apt to
queer the act. And Pinphoodle didn't
look like a gent that kept the receivin'
teller workin' overtime. There was
somethln' about him. though, that was
a situation like this in his own busi
ness, and I'll gamble that his nerves
will Jump h.e governor belt and put
him down for the count. And If he had
to butt up against this proposition
every day of his life like the ballplayer,
you can take it from me there would
be an awful epidemic of nervous pros
tration throughout the universe.
"In addition to these added qualities
that a successful ballplayer has to keep
packed up in his garret, he has to pack
a thundering lot of the goods that are
demanded as -a tribute to the god Success
in any other walk of life. The guy who
can grin In the face of trouble and let
out a few kinks in the pinches is the
one who will succeed in any business,
while the dub who hugs the what's-the-use
dope and lays down on his job when
he Is up against It won't decorate the
official averages much, and he won't have
his name splattered through the business
directory to any great extent either.
"I want to tell you that while it is
all right to shut out the other fellows
without hit, and a good pitcher may
often step onto the rubber and have the
Indian sign on the other guys from get
away .to tape, a pitchr isn't going to
get away with these stunts often enough
in fast company to make him a great
twirler. No matter how great his
physical ability, if he blows up in the
pinches he won't last long enough in the
game to get in the pass gate without
giving his name. It's the ability to Bet
tie down and dish out your best goods
when you are up against it and work
yourself out of holes that makes the great
ballplayer, and it is the same qualifica
tions that makes the successful business
man. It's all well enough to say that the
guy who is there with the goods never
gets into holes and doesn't have to work
himself out of them, but take it from me,
that guy hasn't been born yet. The Na
tional Commission doesn't know anything
about him, and you'll not find his name
in the business directory either.
"I know that there are a lot of mush
heads who will try to throw It into you
that ballplaying is solely a physical ac
complishment, and I'll admit that W
doesn't take the same brand of brain
goods that it does to run a bank or boost
the Beef Trust, but you can take my
tip that there are a blamed slcht more
ball games won wrth the head than with
the hands and feet. Some wise guy has
handed out the dope that 'the eye is the
hi
r
kind of dignified. He was the style of
chap that would blow his last dime on
havtn' his collar 'n cuffs polished, and
would go without eatln' rather than
frisk the free lunch at the beer Joint.
He was willln' to talk about anything
but the. female with the keen-cutter
tongue.
"She is a mistaken, -misguided person,"
says he. "And by the way. Professor
McCabe, there is a fire-escape, J believe,
which leads from my office down to your
back windows. .Would it be presuming
too much if I should ask you to admit
me there occasionally, in the event of
my being erpursutd again?"
"It ain't a board bill, is It,. Doer says
I. -
"Nothing of the kind, I assure you,"
says he.
"Glad to hear it." says I. "As a rule,
I don't run no rock-of-ages refuge, but
as long's you're a neighbor of mine, help
yourself."
So we fixed it up that" way, and about
every so often I'd see Doc Pinphoodle
slidin' in the back window, with a wor
ried look or. his face and iron rust on
his trousers. He was a quiet neighbor,
though didn't torture. the cornet, or deal
in voice culture, or get me to cash
checks that came back with remarks in
red ink written on 'em.
I was .wonderin' how the Vedic stunt
was catchln' on, when all of a sudden
lie buds out in an JS-hat. this year's
model, and begins to lug around an lv'ry
handled cane.
"I'm glad their comln' your way, Doc,"
says I.
"Thanks," Bays he. "If I can in any
measure repay some of the many kind
nesses which you "
"Sponge It off," says- I. "Maybe I'll
want to throw a lady off the scent my
self some day."
A week or so later I misses him alto
gether, and the janitor tells me he's paid
up and moved. Well, they come and
So like that, so it don't pay to feel
lonesome: but I had the floor swept
under the couch reg'lar, on a chance
that he might show up again.
- It was along about then that I hears
about the bull pup: I'd been wantin' to
have one out to Primrose Park where
, , 4
mm
THEN DOC PUTS AN ARM AROUND
I goes to prop up the week-end, you
know, at the cottage I bought off'n Mr.
Jarvis. Pinckney was tellin me of a
friend of his that owns a Hkely-lookin
litter, so one Saturday afternoon I
starts to hoof It over and size 'em up.
Now that was reg'iar,- wa'n't it? You
wouldn't think a two-eyed man like
me could go astray Just tryin to pick
out a bull pup, would you? But look
what I runs .into! I'd got about four
miles from home and was hittin up
a Daddy Weston -clip on the side path,
when I sees one of them big: bay-windowed
bubbles slidin past like a train
window of the soul,' and that 'a man's
character and mental qualities are mir
rored in his face, and it is this reason
that you can pipe off a good ballplayer a
blamed sight quicker by looking into his
mug than by examtning his limbs like
you would a racehorse. It is character,
temperament and mental acumen more
than physical ability that makes the
classy player stick out from the dubs like
a mole on a debutante's nose. Did you
ever see a good ballplayer with a sissy
face? Not on your life. The guy who
can pull off an unexpected play in the
presence of a howling mob of bughouse
fans and get his pitcher out of a hole
when he is up against it; who can grab
his' cudgel in a pinch and slam out the
hit that cleans the bases, has determina
tion and cool judgment plastered over his
mug so deep that it ruins him forever
as a candidate for honors at a beauty
show, but somehow when one of these
mugs toes the pan in a pinch and sticks
out his jaw at the pitcher the fans feel
that something is going to happen. The
bugs can split their larynxes yelling vile
names and casting aspersions on the
personal beauty of a ballplayer's frontis
piece if they want to, but Just the same
when the guy with a jaw like a bear trap
and eyes like the glitter of cold steel toes
the pan for the home team the home fans
feel that they have a chance for their
money."
"I guess you've got us sized up about
right. Dad." Interjected "Shorty." "I
know I'd hate like thunder to risk any
coin on this bunch at a beauty show."
"Well," replied the Old Sport, "don't
let it worry you any. There is no beauty
column in the official averages, and you
may be the ugliest old wart on the land
scape, -but if you can pound the leather
up against the whisky ads and pull liners
out of the milky way the fans would a
blamed sight rather see you out on the
ball lot than an Apollo or an Adonis.
Even If you don't lend that chaste ap
pearance to the view that is splattered
through the Hall of Statuary, bear in mind
that there are blamed few opportunrri
to pose to advantage anyway, when you
are ploughing up the base paths with
your wishbone, and digging grounders out
of the dirt. The poetry of motion doesn't
make much of a hit on the ball grounds,
and the chances are that if yon had
Narcissus, skinned a block, the fans
wouldn't notice it."
"But you're talking; u if a bail
9f - jr. loY-
9. .y 4. n
fiat M
of cars. There was a girl on the back
seat that looks like i of natural. She
seen me, too, shouts to Francois to put
on the emergency brake and begins
wavin her parasol at me to hurry on.
It was Sadie Sullivan.
"Hurry up. Shorty! Run!" she yells.
"There isn't a minute to lose."
I e;ets up on my toes at that, and
I hadn't no more'n climbed aboard be
fore the machine was tearln' up the
macadam again.
"Anybody dyin'," says I, "or does the
bargain counter close at 5 o'clock?"
"Aunt Tillle's eloping," says she, "and
if we don't head her off she'll marry
an old villain who ought to be in jail."
"Not Mr. Pinckney's Aunt Tillie, the
old g-irl that owns the big: place up
near Blenmont?" says 1. s
"That's the one." says Sadie.
"Why, she's qualified for an old la
dles' home,' says I. "You don't mean
to say she's got, kittenish ?"
"There's no age limit to that kind
of foolishness," says Sadie, "and this
looks like a serious attack. We've
got to atop it, though, for I promised
Plnckney I'd stand guard until he came
back from Newport."
I hadn't seen the old girl myself, but
I knew her record, and now I got It
revised to date. She'd hooked two hus
bands in her time, but neither of 'em
had lasted long. Then she gave It
up for a spell, and it wa'n't until she
was 65 that she begins to wear rain
bow clothes again and caper around
like one of the squab octet. Lately
she'd begun to show signs of wantin"
to sit in a shady corner with a man.
Pinckney had discouraged one bald
headed minister, warned off an old
bachelor and dropped strong hints to
a couple of widowers that took to
callln' frequent for afternoon tea. Then
a new one had showed up.
"He's a sticker, too." says Sadie. "I
don't know where Aunt Tillie found
him, but Pinckney says he's been com
ing out from the city every other aay
for a couple of weeks. She's been meet
ing him at the station and taking him
for drives. She says he's some sort of
an East Indian priest, and that he's
giving her lessons In a new faith cure
that she's taken up. Today, though, af-
xrs. - m. -
- t , .
HER BELT LINE AND LETS HER WEEP ON HIS SUNDAY COAT.
ter she'd gone off, the housekeeper
found that her trunk hid been smug
gled to the station. Then a note was
picked up In her room. It said some
thing about meeting tier at the cnurch
of St. Paul's-in-the-Wood at rour-tjilr-ty,
and was signed 'Your darling Mulll.'
Oh, dear, it's almost half-past now!
Cant you go any faster, Francois?"
I thought he couldn't, but he did. He
Jammed the speed lever up another
notch, and in a minute more we were
hitting only the high places. "We car
omed against them red-leather cushions
like a couple of pebbles in a bottle, and
SfRE'S "WHERE f
STKAMSLE
few m&ms
Tre-guy-who- 6ME.
rALLUr IKUUDLL-AND-ULia
OOT-A-FEW-EXTRA-RINKS-
m-THE-PINCiiEa-ia-THt-KID-
VfflO - WILL - aTJCCEED - IN - ANY -
player should sacrifice everything on
tae si tar of base bail. Dad. ecoke up
it was a case of holdln' on and hoping
the thing would stay rsgnt side up. I
hadn't worked up mush enthusiasm
about gettln' to St. Paurs-iii-the-Wood
before, but I did then, all right.
"There's her carriage waiting at the
chapel door!" says Sadie. "Shorty, we
must stop this."'
"It's out of my line, says I, "but
I'll help."
We made a break for the front door
and butted right in. just as though
they'd sent us cards. It wasn't very
light Inside, b-ut down at the far end
we could see a little bunch of folks
standin' around as if they was waitin'
for somethin' to happen.
Sadie didn't make any false motions.
She sailed down the center aisle and
took Aunt Tillie by the arm. She was
a dumpy, piefaced old girl, with plenty
of ballast to keep her shoes down, and
a lot of genuine store hair that was
puffed and waved like the specimens
you see In the Sixth-avenue showcases.
She was actin kind of nervous, and
grinnln" a silly kind of grim, but when
she spotsSadie she puts on a look like
the hired girl wears when she's been
caught bein' Kissed by the grocery boy.
"You haven't done it, have you?" says
Sadie.
"No," says Aunt Tillie: "but Its going
to.be done just as soon as the rector
gets on his other coat."
"Now, please don't, Mrs. Wlnfleld,"
says Sadie, gettln' a waist grip on- the
old girl, and rubbin' her cheek up
against her - shoulder In that purry,
coaxln' way she has. "You know how
badly we should all feel If it didn't
turn out weH,'and Pinckney " '
"He's a meddlesome. Impertinent
young scamp!" says Aunt Tillie, grow
In' red under the layers of rice pow
der. "Haven't I a right to marry with
out consulting him, I'd like to know?"
"Oh, yes, of course," says Sadie,
soothing her down, "but Pinckney
says "
"Don't tell me anything that he says,
not a word!" she shouts. "I won't lis-'
ten to it. He had the Impudence to
suggest that my dear Mulli was a a
corn doctor, or something like that."
"Did he?" says Sadie. "I wouldn't
have thought it of Pinckney. Well, just
. - &'.'.'.i.
.lv k-
to show him that he was wrong I
would put this affair off until you can
have a regular church wedding, with
invitations, and ushers and pretty
flower girls. And you ought to have
a gray silk wedding- gown you'd look
perfectly stunning- in gray silk, you
know. Wouldn't all that be much nicer
than running off like this, as though
you were ashamed of something?
Say, it was a slick game of talk
that Sadie handed out then, for she
was playin for time. But Aunt Tillie
was no come-on.
"Mulli doesn't want to wait another
BUSINESa.
i the manager.
Tet 111 gamble that If
1 you . t
a banker who thought of
day," says she. "and neither do I, so
that settles it. And hero comes the
rector now."
r.
J
r v,
Monty Might Have Been a Winner Once.
"Looks like we'd played out our
hand, don't it?"
"Walt!" says she. "I want to get a
good look at the man."
He was trailin' along after the min
ister, and It wa'n't until he was within
six feet of me that I saw who it was.
"Hello. Doc!" says I. "So you're the
dear Mulli, are you?"
He near Jumped out of his collar,
Pinphoodle did, when he gets his lamps
on me. It only lasted a minute, though,
for he was a quick recoverer.
"Why, professor!" says he. "This is
an unexpected pleasure."
"I guess some of that's right," says I.
And say, but he was dressed for the
Joyful bridegroom part! striped trous
ers, frock coat, white puff tie and
white gloves. He'd had a close shave
and a shampoo, and the massage artist
had rubbed out some of the swellin'
from under his evs. Didn't look much
like the has-been that done the dive
under my couch.
"Well!" says I, "this ts where the
private cinch comes In, eh? Doc, you've
got a head likea horse."
"I should think he'd be ashamed of
himself," says Sadie, "running off with
a silly old -woman!"
The Sullivan temper had got the
best of her.- After that the deep lard
was all over the cook-stove. Aunt
Tillie throws four cat-fits to the min
ute. Then Doc steps up, puts a manly
arm half way round her belt line, and
lets her weep on his Sunday coat.
By this time the preacher was all
broke up. He was a nice, healthy
lookin' young chap, one of the straw-'
b'ry-blond kind, with pink-and-whlte
cheeks and hair as soft as a toy span
iels. It turns out that this was his
first call to spiel off the splicin' ser
vice. "I trust," says he, "that no one has
any valid objection to the uniting of
this couple?" .
"I will convince you of that," says
Doc Pinphoodle, apeakin' up brisk and
cocky, "by putting to this young lady
a few pertinent questions-.-"
Well, he did.' As a cross-examiner
for the defense he was a regular Joe
Choate. Inside of two minutes he'd
made torn mosquito netting of Sadie's
kick, shown her up for a rank out
sider, and put us both through the
ropes. "Now," says he, with a kind of
calm, satisfied, I've-swallowed-the-can-ary
smile, "we will proceed with the
ceremony." '
Sadie was near cryin with the mad
in her, she bein a hard loser at any
game. "You're an old fraud, that's
what you are!' she spits out. ."And
you're just marrying Pinckney's silly
old aunt to get her money."
But that rolls off Doc like a damage
suit off'n a corporation. He had us
down and out. In five minutes more
he'd have a two hundred-pound wife
and a fifty thousand-dollar income.
"It. strikes me." says he over his
nothing but money, a clothier who
speiled about shoddies and cheviots
all the time, or a groceryman whose
whole blamed existence was centered
about prunes and potatoes, you'd feel
like kicking him into the middle of
next week."
"That's all right." replied the Old
Sport, "but I'm talking about business
hours. I don't care a brass-mounted
continental what a ball player is when
he is off duty, and neither do -the fans.
He can be a safe . blower or a bridge
jumper if he wants, or he can crawl
into a pair of corsets and do the fashion-plate
act on the Great White Way.
And I'm not making any distinction
between the ball player and any other
business man, either. The prune mer
chant, the banker, and the clothier
should allow no outside influence to
butt into their business affairs during
office hours and put things on the
bum, and neither - should tne ball
player. How -long do you think a
clerk in a clothing store would hang
on to his job if he ptrt in his time pos
ing in the show windows to look pret
ty for the crowds and let the custom
ers wait? The main squeeze can buy
a good dummy to do that for a few
plunks, and I want to give you the tip
that a baseball manager can hire, the
best artist's models In the country to
pose on the field a blamed Bight
cheaper than he can hire good ball
players. .
"Now, I know that you guys are only
human, and you're mighty apt to get
hooked np with a bunch of skirts and
get a little careless about what the
rest of the world thinks, as long as
I.lzsie or May thmks you're Just about
the handsomest piece of decoration
that was ever turned out. By taking
care ttyat your hair always flops over
your left eye in a becoming style, by
striking artistic poses at the bat and
keeping your mind concentrated on
the grace of your movements when you
go after a grounder, you may succeed
In keeping Lizzie or May hugging this
dope for a while, but after she has
attended the games and heard five or
six thousand people standing on their
hind legs and calling you every vile
name contained in the English and
Profane languages for trying to look
pretty instead of playing the game,
she is mighty apt to get hep that you
ii
'-""' ":-;--: : -:-y -. .- .Vy'-'-f''; vX'1 ' -' 'v- ;:!
shoulder, "that if I had got hold of
a fortune In the way you got yours, -yonng
woman. I wouldn't make any .
comments about mercenary marriages."
Well say, up to that time I had .
half-baked Idea that maybe I wasn't
called on to block his little game, but
when he begins to rub it Into Sadie I
sours on Doc right away.
"Hold on there. Doc," says I. ."I'll
give in that you've got our case -'
quashed as It stood. But maybe some- '
one else has got an interest In these
doin's."
"Ah!" Bays he. "And Who might
that be?" '
"Mrs. Montgomery Smith," says I.
It was a chance shot, but it rung the
hell. Doc goes as limp as a straw hat
that's been hooked up after a dip In
the bay. and his eyes took on that
shifty look they had the first time I
ever saw him.
"Why." gay he. swallowln hard,
and doing his best to get back the stiff
front he'd been puttin up "why, there
is no such person."
"No?", says I. "How abopt the or.u
that calls you Monty and runs yau
under, the couch?"
"It's a He!" says he. "She's nothing to
me."
"Oh. well." says I. "that's between
you and her. She says different. Any
way, she's come clear up here to put
in her bid; so that's no more'n fair to
give her- a show. I'll just -bring her
in."
As I starts toward the front door Doo
gives me one look, to see if I means
business. Then, Sadie says, he turns
the color of pie-crust, drops Aunt Til
lie as if she was a live wire, and Jumps
chrough the back door like he'd been
kicked by a mule. I got back Just in
time to see him hifrdle a five-foot
hedge without stirrin' a leaf, and the
last glimpse we got of him he was
headin' for a stretch of woods up Con
necticut way.
"Looks like you'd just missed assist
In' at a case of bigamy." says. I to che
young preacher, as we was bringln
Aunt Tillie out of her faint.
'Shocking'." says he. "Shocking!"
as he fans himself with a hymn book.
He was taktn' it hard.
Aunt Tillie wouldn't speak to any of
us, and .as we bundled her into -her
carriage and sent her home she looked
as mad as a settln' hen with her feec
tied.
"Shorty," says Sadie,1 on the way
back, "that was an elegant bluff you
put up."
"Lucky my hand wa'n't called." says
I. "But it was rough on the preacher
chap, wa'n't it? He had his mouth
all made up to marry some one.
Blamed if I didn't want to offer him a
Job myself."
"And who would you have picked
out. Shorty?"
"Well," says I, lookin' her over wish
ful, "there ain't never been but one
girl that I'd chose for a side partner,
and she's out of my lass now.
"Was her name Sullivan once?" says
she.
''It was." says I.
She didn't say anything more for a :
spell after that, and I didn't;' but
there's times when conversation don't
fit in. All I know Is that you can
sit just as close on the back seat
of one of them big benzine carts as
you can on a parlor sofa; and with
Sadie snuggled up against me I felt
like It was always goin' to be Sum
mer, with Sousa's hand playiri some
where behind the rubber trees.
First thing I knows we fetches up
at my shack in Primrose Park and I
was standin' on the horse block, along
side the bubble. Sadie'd dropped both
hands on my shoulders and was turn-,
in' them eyes of hers on me at close
range. Francois was lookin' straight
ahead, and there wasn't anyone in
sight. So I just took a good look Into
that pair of Irish blues.
"What a chump you are. Shorty!"
she whispers.
"Ah, quit your kiddinV says I. But
I didn't make any move, and she
didn't.
"Well, good-by," says she, letting out a
long breath.
"By-by Sadie," says I, and oft she
goes.
Say, I don't know how it was. but
I've been feelin' ever since that I'd
missed somethin that was comln' to
me. Maybe it was that bull pup I for
got to buy.
(Copyright Associated Sunday Maga-
zine. Inc.)
are not exactly the idol of the public,
she'll throw you down and hook up
with the awkward slab-sided and lantern-jawed
guy who has a habit of
slamming the ball to the palings and
gets the merry mlt from the crowd
every time he toes the pan.
"There's nothing to it, fellows, the
ball player, just the same as a guy in
any other business wants to be a dif
ferent guy entirely during business
hours than he is after the shop closes.
And you can take It from me that the
good ones always are. To plug along
with the top row In this old dump of
a world you've got to be a crab during
business hours and a clam afterwards.
Old John D.. 'Pierpont Morgan, Andy
Carnegie and that bunch are as tight
and crusty at their work as a pie in a
railway restaurant, but after the office
closes you'll usually be surprised to
find that they are pretty good fellows.
Ty Cobb is the worst kind of a crab
on the ball lot, but the fans would' be
surprised to find what a quiet and in
offensive guy he is when you meet hlra
in the evening. Sherwood Magee was
never put out fairly in a ball game in
his life, from the way he acts, and he
is after the umpire and the opposing
players from the time he crawls into
his baseball rags till he hits the
shower bath, but the minute he gets
inside his street clothes and Is lit up
with that white vest of his, he Is as
amiable as a Spring lamb. McOraw.
Han Wagner, Nap Lajoie, John W.
Gates, George Gould, Harrlman, all the
successful men In their respective lines
of business change their entire na
tures when the office door clangs be
hind them. ' .
"And you can take it from me, boys,
that it pays to be a crab on the baseball
lot. The crab is the guy who gets the
best of the breaks, no matter how square
the ump tries to be; he bluffs the heart
out of his opponents and gets their goat
in the pinches if they are at all inclined
to be sensitive and" weak-kneed.
"Well," said Shorty, "it's gettting late.
Let's take a walk down and look at
the ships and then hit the hay."
"That's all right, boys," said the Old
Sport,- "but don't look at too many,
schooners while you're out. Remember
that you can't play ball with mu-h sur
cess if you spend your nights piloting
schooners over the bar. Good night,
boys, it's me for the feathers."