ne. We can make room," invited Miss Huling.

Wayne thought the awkwardness with which he found a seat beside her was
unbecoming to a Yale senior. But, considering she was the girl he had
been expecting to discover for years, his clumsiness bespoke the
importance of the event. The merry laughter of the girls rang in his
ears. Presently, a voice detached itself from the others, and came
floating softly to him.

"Mr. Wayne, so you're going to wrest our laurels from us?" asked Miss
Huling.

"I don't know--I'm not infallible--I've been beaten."

"When? Not this season?" she inquired quickly, betraying a knowledge
of his record that surprised and pleased him. "Mr. Wayne, I was at the
Polo Grounds on June fifteenth."

Her white hand lightly touched the Princeton pin at her neck. Wayne
roused suddenly out of his trance. The girl was a Princeton girl! The
gleam of her golden hair, the flash of her blue eyes, became clear in
sight.

"I'm very pleased to hear it," he replied.

"It was a great game, Mr. Wayne, and you may well be proud of your part
in winning it. I shouldn't be surprised if you treated the Salisbury
team to the same coat of whitewash. We girls are up in arms. Our boys
stood a fair chance to win this game, but now there's a doubt. By the
way, are you acquainted in Bellville?"

"No. I met Reed, the Bellville captain, in New York this week. He had
already gotten an extra pitcher--another ringer--for this game, but he
said he preferred me, if it could be arranged."

While conversing, Wayne made note of the fact that the other girls
studiously left him to Miss Huling. If the avoidance had not been so
marked, he would never have thought of it.

"Mr. Wayne, if your word is not involved--will you change your mind and
pitch tomorrow's game for us instead of Bellville?"

Quite amazed, Wayne turned squarely to look at Miss Huling. Instead of
disarming his quick suspicion, her cool, sweet voice, and brave, blue
eyes confirmed it. The charms of the captain's sister were to be used
to win him away from the Bellville nine. He knew the trick; it had
been played upon him before.

But never had any other such occasion given him a feeling of regret.
This case was different. She was the girl. And she meant to flirt with
him, to use her eyes for all they were worth to encompass the Waterloo
of the rival team.

No, he had made a mistake, after all--she was not the real girl.
Suddenly conscious of a li