``Whit, I'm pulling a stroke for you.Now listen and don't be offended.I know what's put you off your feed, because I was the same way when Milly had me guessing.You've lost your head over Nan Brown.That's not so terrible, though Idaresay you think it's a catastrophe.Because you've quit.You've shown a yellow streak.
You've lain down.
``My boy, that isn't the way to win a girl.
You've got to scrap.Milly told me yesterday how she had watched your love affairs with Nan, and how she thought you had given up just when things might have come your way.Nan is a little flirt, but she's all right.What's more, she was getting fond of you.Nan is meanest to the man she likes best.The way to handle her, Whit, is to master her.Play high and mighty.Get tragical.Then grab her up in your arms.I tell you, Whit, it'll all come your way if you only keep your nerve.I'm your friend and so is Milly.
We're going out to her house presently--and Nan will be there.''
The Rube drew a long, deep breath and held out his hand.I sensed another stage in the evolution of Whit Hurtle.
``I reckon I've taken baseball coachin','' he said presently, ``an' I don't see why I can't take some other kind.I'm only a rube, an' things come hard for me, but I'm a-learnin'.''
It was about dark when we arrived at the house.
``Hello, Connie.You're late.Good evening, Mr.Hurtle.Come right in.You've met Miss Nan Brown? Oh, of course; how stupid of me!''
It was a trying moment for Milly and me.Alittle pallor showed under the Rube's tan, but he was more composed than I had expected.Nan got up from the piano.She was all in white and deliciously pretty.She gave a quick, glad start of surprise.What a relief that was to my troubled mind! Everything had depended upon a real honest liking for Whit, and she had it.
More than once I had been proud of Milly's cleverness, but this night as hostess and an accomplice she won my everlasting admiration.
She contrived to give the impression that Whit was a frequent visitor at her home and very welcome.She brought out his best points, and in her skillful hands he lost embarrassment and awkwardness.
Before the evening was over Nan regarded Whit with different eyes, and she never dreamed that everything had not come about naturally.Then Milly somehow got me out on the porch, leaving Nan and Whit together.
``Milly, you're a marvel, the best and sweetest ever,'' I whispered.``We're going to win.It's a cinch.''
``Well, Connie, not that--exactly,'' she whispered back demurely.``But it looks hopeful.''
I could not help hearing what was said in the parlor.
``Now I can roast you,'' Nan was saying, archly.
She had switched back to her favorite baseball vernacular.``You pitched a swell game last Saturday in Rochester, didn't you? Not! You had no steam, no control, and you couldn't have curved a saucer.''
``Nan, what could you expect?'' was the cool reply.``You sat up in the stand with your handsome friend.I reckon I couldn't pitch.I just gave the game away.''
``Whit!--Whit!----''
Then I whispered to Milly that it might be discreet for us to move a little way from the vicinity.
It was on the second day afterward that I got a chance to talk to Nan.She reached the grounds early, before Milly arrived, and I found her in the grand stand.The Rube was down on the card to pitch and when he started to warm up Nan said confidently that he would shut out Hartford that afternoon.
``I'm sorry, Nan, but you're way off.We'd do well to win at all, let alone get a shutout.''
``You're a fine manager!'' she retorted, hotly.
``Why won't we win?''
``Well, the Rube's not in good form.The Rube----''
``Stop calling him that horrid name.''
``Whit's not in shape.He's not right.He's ill or something is wrong.I'm worried sick about him.''
``Why--Mr.Connelly!'' exclaimed Nan.She turned quickly toward me.
I crowded on full canvas of gloom to my already long face.
``I 'm serious, Nan.The lad's off, somehow.
He's in magnificent physical trim, but he can't keep his mind on the game.He has lost his head.
I've talked with him, reasoned with him, all to no good.He only goes down deeper in the dumps.
Something is terribly wrong with him, and if he doesn't brace, I'll have to release----''
Miss Nan Brown suddenly lost a little of her rich bloom.``Oh! you wouldn't--you couldn't release him!''
``I'll have to if he doesn't brace.It means a lot to me, Nan, for of course I can't win the pennant this year without Whit being in shape.But I believe I wouldn't mind the loss of that any more than to see him fall down.The boy is a magnificent pitcher.If he can only be brought around he'll go to the big league next year and develop into one of the greatest pitchers the game has ever produced.But somehow or other he has lost heart.He's quit.And I've done my best for him.He's beyond me now.What a shame it is! For he's the making of such a splendid man outside of baseball.Milly thinks the world of him.Well, well; there are disappointments--we can't help them.There goes the gong.I must leave you.Nan, I'll bet you a box of candy Whit loses today.Is it a go?''
``It is,'' replied Nan, with fire in her eyes.
``You go to Whit Hurtle and tell him I said if he wins today's game I'll kiss him!''
I nearly broke my neck over benches and bats getting to Whit with that message.He gulped once.
Then he tightened his belt and shut out Hartford with two scratch singles.It was a great exhibition of pitching.I had no means to tell whether or not the Rube got his reward that night, but I was so happy that I hugged Milly within an inch of her life.
But it turned out that I had been a little premature in my elation.In two days the Rube went down into the depths again, this time clear to China, and Nan was sitting in the grand stand with Henderson.The Rube lost his next game, pitching like a schoolboy scared out of his wits.
Henderson followed Nan like a shadow, so that Ihad no chance to talk to her.The Rube lost his next game and then another.We were pushed out of second place.
