CHAPTER VA SURPRISE PARTY
Joe and Jim stood as though paralyzed, scarcely daring to believe their ears.
Then they let out a shout of glee and grabbed the hands of the grinning McRae and Robbie and almost wrung them off in their delight.
“Mac, you’re the real goods!” exclaimed Joe.
“You’ve got a heart that’s as big as a house,” cried Jim.
“Thank Robbie,” replied the smiling McRae. “He suggested it.”
“And you fell in with it,” added Joe, as they overwhelmed Robbie with their thanks. “You’re both of you princes.”
“That’s all right,” replied McRae. “You boys deserve something for the way you’ve worked this spring. Now be off with you and look up your time-tables.”
They needed no urging, and rushed into the office of the hotel, hardly knowing whether they stood on their heads or their heels.
“My word!” blurted out Reggie, as he sauntered up to them as immaculate as though he had just stepped from a bandbox. “What’s all the dust-up about? That yell outside made me think you’d gone off your bloomin’ heads.”
“We did, almost!” exclaimed Joe, and went on to tell Reggie the cause of their exhilaration.
“Great!” cried Reggie, almost as delighted as they were themselves. “Maybe the girls won’t be glad to see you. They’ll go batty. You boys are so busy gettin’ ready, suppose I send ’em a wire tellin’ them you’re comin’?”
“Not on your life!” protested Joe. “Thanks just the same, old boy, but we’re going to make this a surprise party. They’re not going to know a thing about it till we burst in on them. What time does the next train go, Jim?” he asked of his chum, who had avidly seized a schedule and was trying to mark out their route and time.
“We can catch the midnight express at Ormsby Junction,” answered Jim. “If we make any sort of connections, we can get into Riverside before noon day after to-morrow. Oh, boy, at noon day after to-morrow! Say, Joe, pinch me so that I’ll know that I’m not dreaming.”
Joe complied so vigorously that Jim jumped.
“No need of being so confounded literal,” he remarked, as he rubbed his arm.
“Wish I were goin’ with you,” remarked Reggie wistfully.
“Why don’t you?” asked Joe.
“Can’t,” said Reggie, shaking his head. “Got to give in my report to the guv’nor, so I’ll just have to toddle on to Goldsboro. But I’ll be up in New York a good many times this season to see you boys strip the bloomin’ hides off the other fellahs.”
There was a great deal to do and little time to do it in, but it would have taken nothing short of an earthquake to have stopped the boys from getting the midnight express at the Junction.
With handshakings all around, with repeated thanks to McRae and Robbie, and followed by the best wishes of all their comrades, they left the hotel and ensconced themselves in the train. Luck was with them, and they made good connections throughout the trip.
The second morning they woke to a glorious day that fitted admirably into their joyous mood and did full justice to the abundant breakfast to which they sat down in the dining car.
“Where will we be eating our next meal, old man?” chuckled Joe, as he called for another cup of coffee.
“Don’t tantalize me with such suggestions,” replied Jim. “Isn’t it hard enough for me to wait, without stirring me up this way?”
“Only about three hours now,” murmured Joe happily, as he looked out of the window, “and by the way this old train is skipping along, we’ll get there right on time.”
Suddenly Jim slapped his knee as a thought struck him.
“What are you hitting yourself for?” asked Joe.
“By Jove!” exclaimed Jim. “It just came across me why Robbie was so anxious that I should make a good showing yesterday afternoon. The old rascal had this very thing in mind, and he and McRae had cooked it up that I’d get this vacation only if I earned it.”
“Just like the big-hearted old boy to give you the tip,” declared Joe. “He’d have felt almost as bad as you would if you had fallen down. But you sure came through like a stake horse.”
“Wouldn’t I have been kicking myself if I hadn’t!” observed Jim, as they rose from the table and repaired to their seats in the Pullman.
They were devoured with impatience as the time went by, far too slowly to suit them. But at last they found themselves drawing near to Riverside and began to get their suitcases out in the aisle ready for a quick exit.
“Just how are we going to stage this surpriseparty?” asked Jim. “All in a rush or on the installment plan?”
“Let’s tease the girls a bit,” suggested Joe. “One of us will go in first while the other hangs about in hiding. Then when they’ve decided that there’s only one of us, number two will come in and get his share of the fun. We’ll toss a coin to see who goes in first. How about it?”
Jim agreed, but did not think so well of it when Joe won the toss.
The choice had barely been made when the porter came in for their bags and said:
“Next stop Riverside.”
“All out for Riverside,” chuckled Joe, as with Jim close on his heels he jumped down on the station platform.
From previous experiences they knew that if they started to walk home they would be stopped every few feet by friends and admirers who by the time they reached the house would have formed something of a triumphal procession, for Joe was far and away the most important figure of the little town that his baseball prowess had “put on the map.”
So before they could be recognized by more than one or two, they jumped into a taxicab and were driven rapidly toward the Matson home.
They dismissed the driver when within a block of the house and made their way as inconspicuouslyas possible to the comfortable but unpretentious home that held all that was dearest to them on earth.
“Sneak around to the back, Jim,” whispered Joe. “I’ll go to the front door, and when they all come rushing to welcome me home, you come in on tiptoe and do your stuff.”
Fortunately no one was at the windows, and Joe got up on the porch unobserved and rang the bell.
A moment later he heard a light step that he knew, and his heart skipped a beat. The door opened, and Mabel, as dainty and sweet as a rose, stood framed in the doorway.
Into her eyes came astonishment, wonder, rapture!
“Joe!” she cried in wild delight. “Oh, Joe——”
Whatever else she said was indistinguishable, for Joe had swept her into his arms and effectually cut off her speech.
Then came a rush from the other rooms, and Clara, prettier than ever, and Mrs. Matson had to have their share of the welcome, and for a few minutes it was a happy pandemonium.
But Clara’s eyes wandered towards the door, and they were full of wistful longing.
“If only Jim could have come with you!” she faltered.
“He wanted to come all right, Sis,” said Joe. “In fact, he was crazy to come. Sent lots of love and all that——”
Just then there was a little squeal from Mabel and a pair of hands were placed over Clara’s eyes.
“Guess who it is,” came a voice, and then——
In a little while Mr. Matson came home for lunch and the excitement was renewed.
It was a happy homecoming and a most satisfactory surprise party, and if there was a happier group in the whole United States than those who gathered around the lunch table a little while later in that cozy Matson home, Joe and Mabel refused to believe it. So did Jim and Clara.
Enchanting days followed, days when the young folks felt as though they trod on air. If McRae and Robbie had known of the blessings that were showered upon them they would have felt amply repaid for the generous impulse that had given their two star pitchers this brief vacation.
All too soon the days slipped by and the moment came when Joe and Jim had to gird on their armor for the strenuous season awaiting them. It was a hard task to say good-by, but it had to be done, and the grief of parting was softened to some extent by the promise of the girls to come on before long for a stay in New York!
Joe and Jim were rather quiet for a while afterthe train had started, with the girls waving to them as far as they could see them, and it was not till after supper that they found themselves chatting about the baseball season that was to open on the third day from then.
“We’ve drawn the toughest team in the East for the opening day on the Polo Grounds,” remarked Joe. “Those Brooklyns are hard nuts to crack.”
“They are for us, at any rate,” agreed Jim. “What is it that gets into those birds when they cross bats with us? Other teams can sometimes make them roll over and play dead. And then, after playing like a lot of bushers, they’ll take us on and play like champions.”
“Right you are,” declared Joe. “More than once they’ve fairly wiped up the ground with us. And even when we’ve won, we’ve usually known that we’ve been in a fight. I suppose they’ll put up Rance to pitch for them in the opening game.”
“Likely enough,” assented Jim. “He’s their kingpin without any doubt. Though when it comes to that, all their pitchers are strong. I shouldn’t be surprised if they made a strong bid for the flag this year.”
“Yes, we’ll have to reckon them in as contenders. For that matter, almost all the teams have a chance. I don’t remember a season whenthere have been so many dark horses that may at any time show up in front.”
“So much the better,” observed Jim. “It’s a good thing for the game. As long as every team has a chance the games are fought for blood and the boys are on their toes all the time. If there’s anything I hate, it’s a baseball procession with one or two up in front and the others straggling far behind.”
“I can scarcely wait for the bell to ring,” said Joe. “I never felt so eager for the fight in my life. I’m out this year for a record that’s worth while.”
“That’s what you were saying to me the other day, and I was rather puzzled to know what you meant,” said Jim. “It seems to me that with your pitching and batting last year you’d got just about as much of a record as it was possible to have. You topped them all in the matter of homers, and as for pitching—well, the whole world knows what you did in the box.”
“There’s always room for improvement, and I’m going to try to set up a mark in every department of the game for the other fellows to shoot at,” was the reply. “I don’t know that I have it in me to do it. But I have at least the determination to do it, and if I fail it won’t be for the lack of trying.”
“You can do it if any one can,” declared Jim,with conviction. “But say you lead the league in pitching and in batting—and I’ve no doubt you can—what else are you aiming for?”
“Just this. Now don’t laugh, old man, or tell me that ‘’twas through ambition that the angels fell’ or any more of those bromides. I want to lead the league in homers. That’s number one. I want to lead the league in general batting. That’s number two. I want to lead the league in base stealing. That’s number three. I want to lead the league in strike-outs. That’s number four. I want to lead the league in the percentage of earned runs I allow opponents. That’s number five. I want to lead the league in consecutive victories. That’s number six. I want, as captain, to have the Giants win more games than they’ve ever won before in a single season. That’s number seven, the lucky number. Let’s hope it brings me luck.”
Jim was staring at him open-mouthed.
“Wow!” he ejaculated. “Is that all?”