tretch myself." Then he remembered with anxiety how Greenfield had
railed at his lack of imagination and pondered a moment seriously.
Suddenly, as though satisfied, he said with a nod of conviction:

"Well, now, we did jog about a bit!"

LARRY MOORE

I

The base-ball season had closed, and we were walking down Fifth avenue,
Larry Moore and I. We were discussing the final series for the
championship, and my friend was estimating his chances of again pitching
the Giants to the top, when a sudden jam on the avenue left us an
instant looking face to face at a woman and a child seated in a
luxurious victoria.

Larry Moore, who had hold of my arm, dropped it quickly and wavered in
his walk. The woman caught her breath and put her muff hastily to her
face; but the child saw us without surprise. All had passed within a
second, yet I retained a vivid impression of a woman of strange
attraction, elegant and indolent, with something in her face which left
me desirous of seeing it again, and of a pretty child who seemed a
little too serious for that happy age. Larry Moore forgot what he had
begun to say. He spoke no further word, and I, in glancing at his face,
comprehended that, incredible as it seemed, there was some bond between
the woman I had seen and this raw-boned, big-framed, and big-hearted
idol of the bleachers.

Without comment I followed Larry Moore, serving his mood as he
immediately left the avenue and went east. At first he went with excited
strides, then he slowed down to a profound and musing gait, then he
halted, laid his hand heavily on my shoulder, and said:

"Get into the car, Bob. Come up to the rooms."

I understood that he wished to speak to me of what had happened, and I
followed. We went thus, without another word exchanged, to his rooms,
and entered the little parlor hung with the trophies of his career,
which I looked at with some curiosity. On the mantel in the center I saw
at once a large photograph of the Hon. Joseph Gilday, a corporation
lawyer of whom we reporters told many hard things, a picture I did not
expect to find here among the photographs of the sporting celebrities
who had sent their regards to my friend of the diamond. In some
perplexity I approached and saw across the bottom written in large firm
letters: "I'm proud to know you, Larry Moore."

I smiled, for the tribute of the great man of the law seemed incongruous
here to me, who knew of old my simple-minded, si