Jimmy Kirkland and the Plot for a Pennant Part 36

"There's one thing I want to find out," said Swanson, clenching his fist. "And that is who the big guy was that Edwards hired as his slugger. The season won't be complete until I hook this old grounder grabber of mine on his jaw."

"I've got a bit of business," announced McCarthy, after an hour of excited conversation.

"Wait till she gets through breakfast," insinuated Swanson insultingly.

"Going to desert your old pal for a skirt so soon?"

"Aw, shut up," said McCarthy. "I've got to thank her, haven't I?"

Swanson was silent for an instant. A serious expression came over his homely, good-natured face.

"I hope you win her, Kohinoor," he said, simply, putting his big arm across McCarthy's shoulders. "You deserve her--I wanted her myself, once."

Without another word he went over and sat down, picking up a paper, and McCarthy, walking to him, said:

"I'm sorry, Silent, maybe"----

"No maybe about it," said Swanson without looking up, "I lost, long ago."

McCarthy descended two flights of stairs and knocked timidly at the door of the Clancy apartments. He expected to find Betty Tabor with Mrs. Clancy, but the girl was alone, the Clancys not having finished their breakfast.

"Betty," he exclaimed, taking both her outstretched hands, "Betty--I had to come--I wanted to tell you--I love you."

"Oh," she said in surprise, "I"----

His arm slipped around her waist and he drew her close.

"I have loved you from the first," he said, pleadingly. "I wanted to tell you yesterday. I thought you cared then; you do care for me, don't you?"

"Yes, Larry," she said softly, hiding her face. "I think I have--from the first."

"From the first--the very first, dearest?" he asked tenderly. "From the day we met--years ago?"

"Years ago?" she asked in surprise. "Then you are? Yes, you are; you must be the little boy who was crying in the train? I knew when you came with the club we had met somewhere, and I could not remember where."

"Did you remember the little boy?" he asked.

"Yes, Larry," she said "I never have forgotten. I used to pray for him every night; that he might be happy in his new home. I kept the picture of him that was taken at Portland and I often have thought of him."

"It must have been meant that we should meet, dearest," he whispered.

"Yes, Larry," she replied softly.

He kissed her and held her close.

"Larry!" he exclaimed. "Where did you learn my name, sweetheart?"

"The old gentleman in the box next to us at the game called you Larry--and it seemed to fit you better than Jim does." She laughed.

"He is my uncle--my father, almost. You will meet him soon, and then I will explain how I became McCarthy."

At that instant Manager Clancy and his wife entered abruptly, followed by Technicalities Feehan. Betty Tabor blushed and struggled to extricate herself from McCarthy's arms, but he held her close and announced:

"Betty has just promised to become my wife."

A shower of congratulation followed, and Mrs. Clancy became so excited she dropped her fancy work and kissed both, then kissed Feehan, and that surprised reporter dropped his precious ma.n.u.script in his embarra.s.sment.

A few moments after McCarthy left his room to make the call that resulted in his happiness being established, Swanson was aroused from his reverie by insistent rapping upon the door, and in response to his welcoming cry, a tall, slender old man with bristling moustache, stormed into the apartment.

"Where's that young scoundrel who calls himself McCarthy?" he demanded, brandishing his cane threateningly.

"h.e.l.lo, grandpaw," said Swanson. "Who dealt you a hand?"

"You're another one of those rascally ballplayers!" charged the man violently. "I know you--you've been leading my nephew into all sorts of wild sc.r.a.pes, disgracing the family"----

"You Kohinoor's uncle?" howled Swanson joyously as he sprang up and seized the old gentleman with a bear hug and waltzed him around.

"Welcome to our fair city, uncle. I adopt you right now. Kohinoor is my chum. How does it seem to be the uncle of a hero?"

"Release me, you scoundrel," puffed the uncle. "Release me or I'll cane you! Where is he?"

"Truth is, uncle, he's gone skirting," said Swanson, releasing his victim.

"Gone where?" asked the uncle.

"Skirting--calling on a girl--and between you and me, uncle, he's got the best chance to win her, and she's worth winning."

"What, another?" demanded the uncle. "Then he hasn't eloped with that blond niece of that crook, Baldwin?"

"Not on your life," said Swanson, "he's won the best little girl in the world."

In five minutes they were laughing and chatting like old friends, and the uncle was boasting of his nephew's prowess at baseball.

"Hang it," he stormed, "I ought to cane him, the young rascal, for treating me this way. He never let me know he was playing, and I only got to see one game. But wasn't that a--what do you call it--a corker?"

"Let's go to them," proposed Swanson.

And into the tableau of congratulations that was being presented in the Clancy apartment Swanson burst, leading the old gentleman, who was struggling to smile and to be angry at the same time.

"Look who's here," he shouted. "Kohinoor's uncle, and from the looks of things he has arrived just at the right minute to give his blessing."

"Uncle Jim," exclaimed McCarthy, stepping forward quickly.

"Larry, you young rascal!--Larry"----

His voice broke and tears rolled down his cheeks as he put his arm around the boy's neck and wept. "Larry, you young scoundrel, what did you mean by running away from your old uncle?"

"Uncle Jim," said McCarthy seriously, as he put his arm around the old man's waist, "I was a fool. I found it out and I was coming home to tell you I was wrong and beg you to forgive me, but I could not leave the team when it needed me. I was only a foolish boy. If you can forgive"----

"It's all right now, Larry, boy," said the old man, wiping his eyes and laughing happily. "I was certain you'd come to your senses and find you didn't love that girl."