CHAPTER XXII
UNDER HEAVY STRAIN
"I can't believe you are real," said Joe, contentedly, lounging in abig chair and watching Mabel as she flitted about the room, puttingsmall things in order and seeming by her very presence to make thehotel room a home. "I think you must be a dream or something. Come sitdown here and let me look at you."
Mabel sat down beside him and looked at him with dancing eyes.
"I might almost think you were glad to see me, Joe dear," she said.Then, as Joe moved toward her, added quickly: "Do you know you haven'tasked me a single thing about the home folks yet?"
Joe's face clouded and he rubbed a hand across his forehead.
"Truth is, I've been afraid to," he confessed. "I have a hunch thatneither mother nor Clara has been frank in their letters to me. I'vebeen worried sick!" he finished, in an unusual outburst of feeling.
Mabel, studying the new lines about his mouth and the strained look ofhis eyes, was inclined to be worried herself, though not so much forMother Matson as for Joe. She said, as cheerfully as she could:
"I wouldn't worry so dreadfully, Joe, if I were you. Mother's heart isstronger than it has been for some time and she is wonderfully braveand courageous."
"She would be," muttered Joe, adding in swift anxiety: "In the lastletter I had from her she said she was in the hospital and theoperation was slated to take place in about a week's time. That wouldmake it somewhere around day after to-morrow. Good heavens! I can'tbear to think of it!"
"You mustn't, any more than you can help," said Mabel, gently. "Itwon't do Mother Matson or the rest of us any good for you to get downsick yourself, Joe. I wonder Dougherty doesn't order you off the teamfor a rest."
"You wrote in one of your letters that you had taken a flying trip toRiverside," Joe reminded her, and Mabel nodded.
"I didn't want to stay long. Mother Matson was so sick and I was afraidshe would think she must exert herself to entertain me. So I juststayed overnight and caught the morning train back to Goldsboro."
"Did Mother give you any message for me?" Joe's voice was husky.
"Just her love--and this," said Mabel, softly. She held out her hand,and in the palm of it lay a tiny, heart-shaped locket. Joe recognizedit as one that had long rested in his mother's jewelry case. He tookit and opened it, and the sweet face of his mother in her youth smiledback at him.
Joe got up abruptly and went to the window, standing for a long timelooking out, with his back to his wife. Mabel knew that he was having astruggle with himself, and waited quietly until he turned and came backto her.
"If I could get away from the team long enough to go to her!" he saidhuskily. "But I can't just now. It's impossible. I've got to keep afterthe men every minute, or they're apt to go to pieces."
"She doesn't expect you just now, dear," said Mabel, soothingly. "Sheknows you can't leave the team. Now don't worry."
Joe sank down in the chair again, his head in his hands. Finally helooked up and asked:
"How about Clara? Are things as bad there as we thought they were?"
"I'm afraid so, Joe. It seems to me that Clara is getting more andmore entangled with that millionaire all the time. He reads poetry toher, too, in spite of the fact that he's a great, strapping, athleticlooking chap."
"Oh, then you saw him?" cried Joe, all interest at once.
"Saw him!" repeated Mabel, with a short laugh. "You might better ask meif I saw anything else. He was around the place from morning to night.I think if Mother Matson hadn't been in such poor health he would havecome around to breakfast, too."
Joe got to his feet and strode around the room, hands thrust deep inhis pockets.
"Serious as all that!" Mabel heard him mutter to himself. "How doesClara act? How does she treat this--boob?" he demanded, suddenlystopping short in front of Mabel and glaring at her in exasperation."Does she encourage him?"
"You might call it that," Mabel returned, with a puzzled frown."She certainly accepts his attentions. Lets him take her out in hisbeautiful car, plays tennis with him, and listens while he reads hisfoolish poems to her."
Joe literally ground his teeth in futile rage and exasperation. Hebegan again his restless pacing of the room.
"Did you have a chance to talk to her?" he continued hiscross-examination. "Did you ask her what she meant by treating a finefellow like Jim so shabbily?"
"You forget, Joe dear, that I'm not Clara's guardian. It wasn't myplace to take her to task. All I could do was try to sound her. Sheevaded all my questions with some light answer, and when I asked herpoint-blank whether she intended to turn Jim down in favor of hermillionaire----"
"What did she say?" interrupted Joe, swiftly.
"She merely remarked that I ought to know better. She seemed to beoffended, and if I had pressed things just then the result might havebeen a real quarrel. I thought the best thing to do was drop the wholething. After all, Clara is old enough to know her own mind."
"I doubt it!" said Joe, bitterly, adding in helpless indignation as heagain faced his wife: "Can you imagine any reasonably intelligent girlturning down good old Jim for a flossy millionaire?"
"Well, money sometimes dazzles a girl, especially young and very prettyones like Clara," returned Mabel, judicially. "I tell you what let'sdo, Joe. I know it would be lovely to have our first dinner aloneto-night, but don't you think we might include Jim? It might cheer himup."
"It would be an act of charity," agreed Joe. "Jim is pretty low in hismind these days. I'm sure he guesses there is something wrong."
But in spite of their whole-souled attempt to give Jim a good timethat night, both Joe and Mabel felt that they had failed. Jim triedto rouse himself and meet their fun with some of his own, but nothingcould disguise the fact that his heart was not in it.
He asked one or two listless questions about Clara, almost, Mabelthought, as though from a sense of duty, and after that maintained adead silence on the subject they both knew was uppermost in his mind.
They had dined in a jolly restaurant full of lights and music, butdespite the hilarity all about them, their party had been a dismalfailure. They were glad when the last course was over and they couldleave the place.
It was when they had reached the hotel and Mabel had slipped intoanother room to remove her hat and cloak that Joe turned to his chumwith a casual question.
"Got your letter from Clara all right this week, did you?" he asked, ina tone that was not quite natural.
Jim looked at him, surprised, then turned away before he answeredshortly:
"Not yet."
Baseball Joe, Captain of the Team; or, Bitter Struggles on the Diamond Page 22