the
least. A man who sells himself for a hundred thousand dollars is just as
contemptible as one who sells himself for a dollar. I'm proud of you, my
boy."

"I could have told beforehand just what Joe would do," said Mrs. Matson,
wiping her eyes.

"You're the darlingest brother ever!" exclaimed Clara, coming round the
table and giving him a hug and a kiss.

The thought of Clara being a sister to him had never appealed to Jim
before, but just at that moment it would have had its advantages.

For the rest of the meal all were engrossed in talking of the great event
of the morning--that is, all but Joe, who kept casting surreptitious
glances at the clock.

"Don't get worried, Joe," said his sister mischievously, as she
intercepted one of his glances. "Mabel's train doesn't get in until
half-past two, and it isn't one o'clock yet."

Joe flushed a little and Jim laughed.

"Can you blame him?" he asked.

"Not a bit," answered Clara. "Mabel's a darling and I'm crazy to get hold
of her. After Joe, though, of course," she added.

Joe threw his napkin at her but missed.

"Sixty-five thousand dollars for a baseball player who can't throw any
straighter than that," she mocked. "It's a lucky thing for the new league
that you didn't take their money."

"Maybe I had better take their money after all!" cried Joe tantalizingly.

At these words Clara threw up her hands in mock horror.

"You just dare, Joe Matson, and I'll disown you!"

"Ah-ha! And now I'm disowned and cast out of my home!" exclaimed the young
baseball player tragically. "Woe is me!"

"I don't believe any decent player would ever have anything to say to you,
Joe, if you did such a mean thing as that," went on Clara seriously. And
at this Joe nodded affirmatively.

An hour later, all three, chatting merrily, were on their way to the
train. But their progress was slow, for at almost every turn they were
stopped by friends who wanted to shake hands with Joe and congratulate him
on his presence of mind the night before.

"One of the penalties of having a famous brother," sighed Clara, when this
had happened for the twentieth time.

"You little hypocrite," laughed Jim. "You know that you're just bursting
with pride. You're tickled to death to be walking alongside of him. Stop
your sighing. Follow my example. I'm tickled to death to be walking
alongside of you and you don't hear _me_ sighing. I feel more like
singing."

"For goodness' sake, don't," reto