disappointed, as she had had great hopes of seeing her only son in the pulpit. Moreover, she had the vague feeling that there was something almost disreputable in making baseball a profession. But Joe at last convinced her that whatever might have been true in the early days of the game did not apply now, when so many high-class men were turning toward it, and she yielded, though reluctantly.

Joe’s chance to break into the professional ranks was not long in coming. That last great game with Princeton had been noted by Jimmie Mack, manager of the Pittston team in the Central League. He made Joe an offer which the latter accepted, and the story of his first experience on the professional diamond is told in the fourth volume of the series entitled: “Baseball Joe in the Central League; Or, Making Good as a Professional Pitcher.”

But this was only the first step in his career. He was too ambitious to be content with the Central League except as a stepping stone to something higher. His delight can be imagined, therefore, when he learned that he had been drafted into the St. Louis Club of the National League. He was no longer a “busher” but the “real thing.” He had to work hard and had many stirring adventures. How he succeeded in helping his team into the first division is told in the fifth volume of the series, entitled: “Baseball Joe in the Big League; Or, A Young Pitcher’s Hardest Struggles.”

But these hard struggles were at the same time victorious ones and attracted the attention of the baseball public, who are always on the lookout for a new star. Among others, McRae, the famous manager of the New York Giants, thought he saw in Joe a great chance to bolster up his pitching staff. Joe could hardly believe his eyes when he learned that he had been bought by New York. It brought a bigger reputation, a larger salary and a capital chance to get into the World Series. He worked like a Trojan all through the season, and, as we have already seen, came through with flying colors, winning from the Chicagos the final game that made the Giants the champions of the National League and put them in line for the championship of the world. The details of the stirring fight are told in the sixth volume of the series, entitled: “Baseball Joe on the Giants; Or, Making Good as a Ball Twirler in the Metropolis.”

“I say, old top,” remarked Reggie, breaking in on Joe’s rather resentful musings, “you’re going to stay and have dinner with us to-night, you know.”

Joe looked at Mabel for confirmation.

“You certainly must, Joe,” she said enthusiastically. “We won’t take no for an answer.”

As there was nothing else on earth that Joe wanted so much as to be with Mabel, he did not require much urging.

“And I’ll tell you what we’ll do,” suggested Mabel. “In fact, it’s the only thing we can do. We’ll have the dinner served right in here for the three of us. If you should go down in the public dining-room of the hotel to-night, Joe, you’d have a crowd around the table ten lines deep.”

“By Jove, you’re right,” chimed in Reggie. “They’d have to send out a call for reserves. I’ll go down and have a little talk with the head waiter, and I’ll have him send up a dinner fit for a king.”

“Fit for a queen,” corrected Joe, as he glanced at Mabel.

CHAPTER III
A POPULAR HERO

Reggie hurried away to order the meal that was to put the chef on his mettle, leaving Mabel and Joe once more in possession of the room.

Good-natured, blundering Reggie! Why had he not waited five minutes longer before breaking in on that momentous conversation?

To be sure they could have resumed it now, but Joe felt instinctively that it was not the time. Cupid is sensitive as to time and place, and the little blind god is only at his best when assured of leisure and privacy. His motto is that “two is company” while three or more are undeniably “a crowd.”

Reggie might be back at any moment, and then, too, the waiters would be coming in to spread the table. So Joe, though sorely against his will, was forced to wait till fate should be more kind.

But he was in the presence of his divinity anyway and could feast his eyes upon her as she chatted gaily, her color heightened by the scene through which they had just passed.

And Mabel was a very delightful object for the eyes to rest upon. Joe himself, of course, was not a competent witness. If any one had asked him to describe her, he would have answered that she was a combination of Cleopatra and Madame Recamier and all the other famous beauties of history. What the unbiased observer would have seen was a very charming girl, sweet and womanly, with lustrous brown eyes, wavy hair whose tendrils persisted in playing hide and seek about her ears, dimples that came and went in a maddening fashion and a flower-like mouth, revealing two rows of pearly teeth when she smiled, which was often.

Even Reggie was moved to compliment her when he came in again after his interview with the head waiter.

“My word, Sis, but you’re blooming to-night, don’t you know,” he remarked, as he went across the room and put his hand caressingly on her shoulder. “This little trip must be doing you good. You’ve got such a splendid color, don’t you know.”

“Just think of it! A compliment from a brother! Wonder of wonders!” she laughed merrily.

Perhaps if she had cared to, she might have enlightened the obtuse Reggie as to the cause of the heightened color that enhanced her loveliness. Joe, too, could have made a shrewd guess at it.

But now the waiters came bustling in and they talked of indifferent things until the table was spread. A sumptuous meal was brought in, and the three sat down to as merry a little dinner party as there was that night in the city of New York.

“How honored we are, Reggie,” exclaimed Mabel, “to have the great Mr. Matson as our guest! There are hundreds of people who would give their eyes for such a chance.”

She flashed a mocking glance at Joe who grew red, as she knew he would. The little witch delighted in making him blush. It made his bronzed face still more handsome, she thought.

“You’d better make the most of it,” Joe grinned in reply. “I may fall down in the World Series and be batted out of the box. Then you’ll be pretending that you don’t know me.”

“I’m not afraid of that,” returned Mabel. “After the way you pitched this afternoon, I’m sure there’s nothing in the American League you need to be afraid of.”

“That’s loyal, anyway,” laughed Joe. “Still you never can tell. It’s happened to me before and it may happen again. Then, too, you must remember that it’s a different proposition I’ll be up against.

“Take, for instance, the Chicagos to-day. I’ve pitched against them before and I knew their weak points. I knew the fellows who can’t hit a high ball but are death on the low ones. I knew the ones who would try to wait me out and those who would lash out at any ball that came within reach. I knew the ones who would crowd the plate and those who would inch in to meet the ball. The whole problem was to feed them what they didn’t want.

“But it will be different when I come up against the American Leaguers. It will be some time before I catch on to their weak points. And while I’m learning, one of them may line out a three bagger or a home run that will win the game.”

“You speak of their weak points as though they all had them,” put in