" she amplified.

"Well, but I haven't brought you to see the game, but the pitcher," the
boy protested. "He's a new one; you never saw him before. Look."

"Why?"

"Because I want you to."

Flavia Rose obediently turned her gaze toward the players, and upon the
indicated man it halted, arrested.

"Oh!" she exclaimed under her breath, and sat still.

The men were in their places, alert in poised expectation, the attention
of the whole field concentrating upon the central figure of the pitcher
at whom the young girl also looked. A slim, straight statue he stood
during a full moment, then slowly raised his arms above his head in a
gesture of supple grace and ease. The afternoon sun struck across his
wind-ruffled brown hair and smiling face, as he gave a brief nod to the
catcher and dropped his arm with a lithe, swift movement and turn of his
whole body. The white ball shot across, swerving almost at the plate,
and crashed into the catcher's mitt.

"He's got speed!" Mr. Rose approved loudly, standing up in the car.
"That's pitching! Who's your friend, Corwin B.?"

His son did not answer. The ball was back in the pitcher's hands; again
he was lifting his arms in the pose his physical beauty made classic.
There was repeated the quick nod, the abruptly swift movement, and the
ball sped across, dropping oddly.

"Strike two!" was called.

Amid the applause and shouts of encouragement, Flavia laid her small,
urgent hand on her brother's sleeve.

"Corrie, who is he? Tell us, please."

He moved to see her more directly.

"Do you remember the Beach twenty-four-hour race, last summer, where I
finished third? Do you remember how I told you about the big driver,
Allan Gerard, who drove my machine for two hours until I could hold the
wheel again myself?"

"Of course."

"Strike three--you're out!" rang the umpire's announcement; again the
joyous shouts interrupted speech.

"Well, then, that's who."

"That's Gerard, playing ball?" interrogated Mr. Rose, incredulous. "What
for? Lost his racing job?"

Laughing, Corrie shook his head.

"No, sir! Gerard is a member of the Mercury automobile company and has
their western factory and all that end of the business in his hands. He
races the Mercury car because he loves the work and because no one else
can do it so well. No; practice for the Cup race opens to-morrow, and
he's here on Long Island for that. But the pitcher of our home team put
his arm out of business yester