Nan
Brown. Today she wore a new tailor-made gown, new bonnet, new
gloves--she said she had decorated herself in a manner befitting the
wife of a major league pitcher.

Morrisey's box was very comfortable, and, as I was pleased to note, so
situated that we had a fine view of the field and stands, and yet were
comparatively secluded. The bleachers were filling. Some of the
Chicago players were on the field tossing and batting balls; the Rube,
however, had not yet appeared.

A moment later a metallic sound was heard on the stairs leading up into
the box. I knew it for baseball spiked shoes clanking on the wood.

The Rube, looking enormous in his uniform, stalked into the box,
knocking over two chairs as he entered. He carried a fielder's glove
in one huge freckled hand, and a big black bat in the other.

Nan, with much dignity and a very manifest pride, introduced him to
Mrs. Nelson.

There was a little chatting, and then, upon the arrival of Manager
Morrisey, we men retired to the back of the box to talk baseball.

Chicago was in fourth place in the league race, and had a fighting
chance to beat Detroit out for the third position. Philadelphia was
scheduled for that day, and Philadelphia had a great team. It was
leading the race, and almost beyond all question would land the flag.
In truth, only one more victory was needed to clinch the pennant. The
team had three games to play in Chicago and it was to wind up the
season with three in Washington. Six games to play and only one
imperatively important to win! But baseball is uncertain, and until
the Philadelphians won that game they would be a band of fiends.

"Well, Whit, this is where you break in," I said. "Now, tip us
straight. You've had more than a week's rest. How's that arm?"

"Grand, Con, grand!" replied the Rube with his frank smile. "I was a
little anxious till I warmed up. But say! I've got more up my sleeve
today than I ever had."

"That'll do for me," said Morrisey, rubbing his hands. "I'll spring
something on these swelled Quakers today. Now, Connelly, give Hurtle
one of your old talks--the last one--and then I'll ring the gong."

I added some words of encouragement, not forgetting my old ruse to
incite the Rube by rousing his temper. And then, as the gong rang and
the Rube was departing, Nan stepped forward for her say. There was a
little white under the tan on her cheek, and her eyes had a darkling
flash.

"Whit, it's a magnif