ie," she said, laying down her sewing after Clancy had stood at
the window, whistling and gazing out for ten minutes without saying a
word. "Well, Willie--who has broken a leg or sprung a Charlie horse
now?"

"Nothing much, mother," said the big manager quietly. "Nothing
much--just worrying a little over the way things are going."

"Bill Clancy," she ejaculated indignantly. "Do you think you can fool
anyone with that talk? Do you think I could live with you eighteen
years, come next Martinmas, and not know when you're in trouble? Tell
your old lady what it is."

"Sure, mother," he said fondly, coming to put his arm around her waist.
"Haven't you enough troubles of your own?"

"Me have troubles?" She was indignant. "Nothing troubles me but
worrying over those pesky boys of yours. What's wrong now, Willie?"

"One of the boys out skylarking last night--and drinking."

"Saints forgive him," she said piously, but with a note of relief.
"Sure you'll not be fining the poor boy? Perhaps he needed a drink or
two to keep up his courage."

"Nothing like that, mother," he replied seriously. "This was one of
the young fellows out with some gamblers drinking wine till past
midnight. It looks serious."

"Now, Bill Clancy, you just send for that boy to come right up here and
talk it over. Tell him he must behave and explain what it means to all
the boys. Then you'll shame him and he'll be a good boy. They're all
good boys," she protested earnestly, "only they do try a poor woman."

"I guess that's the best plan, mother," he said. "You trot over into
the other room and I'll have him up."

"Which one is it this time, Willie?"

"McCarthy!"

"McCarthy--why, Willie, he wouldn't--there's some mistake. That poor
boy wouldn't do such a thing. And him grieving his heart out because
Betty Tabor won't treat him well any more. That's what's the trouble,
Willie."

"We'll see what it is," said the manager, checking her flow of defense
curtly. "I'll have him up. You run into the other room with the
sewing and--don't listen."

His telephone call found McCarthy in his room, and the young third
baseman promptly ascended to the manager's apartment and entered
innocently.

"Good morning, Boss," he said, following the burlesque style of
greeting used by the Bears to their manager.

"Good morning," said Clancy curtly, as he scrutinized the face of the
player for signs of a debauch and found the blue eyes clear and fr