day, and Gerard offered to pitch for this
game. He knows everybody here--he always knows everybody everywhere,
he's that kind. And I want to ask him to dinner," he concluded
irrelevantly.

Mr. Rose scanned the field for a flying ball, as a sharp crack announced
the first hit.

"Staying out here, or going in to the city each day?" he inquired.

"He's staying in Jamaica, sir."

"Then you'd best ask him to stop at your house until the race comes off,
or he'll wreck his machine from weakness brought on by starvation,"
pronounced Mr. Rose, dryly. "One dinner won't carry him through weeks. I
know those hotels, myself."

Corrie gasped, his face swept by delighted awe.

"Really? Oh, I'd give anything to have Gerard, _Gerard_, like that! Do
you think he'll come?"

"If he had dinner at his hotel last night, and breakfast and lunch
to-day, he'll come," his father assured. "Now be quiet and let me watch
the game; it must be near ending."

"Almost, but----"

"Never mind the _but_, Corwin B. Keep cool."

But Corrie could not keep cool. When his father's attention was engaged
he slipped down from his seat and went around to Flavia's side of the
car.

"Do you think he would come?" he asked, for her ears alone. "Don't you
want him, too? Why are you so serious--what _do_ you think?"

Their clear violet-blue eyes met in the intimate household love and
understanding of all their lives. Flavia dropped a caressing arm around
her brother's shoulders, gently drawing him to face the field.

"Really look," she bade.

Puzzled, he obeyed. Gerard was still occupying the centre of the
diamond, holding the ball aloft while his meditative gaze apparently
dwelt on the batsman. There was scarcely a perceptible turn of his brown
head, yet as the two in the car watched, the impromptu pitcher's glance
flashed from behind his uplifted arm and he whirled in a half-circle to
hurl the unexpected ball straight across the diamond to where a careless
enemy had ventured from second base. Too late the startled runner saw;
the sudden attack won.

"You're out!" pealed the quick decision. The game was closed. With the
gay uproar of local triumph Mr. Rose mingled his approving applause,
still standing upright in the car to view the scene.

"Well, of what are you thinking?" Corrie repeated. "He's splendid, I
know that."

"I am thinking of Isabel," Flavia answered quietly, "and of you. If you
take Mr. Gerard home, she will see a great deal of him."