"Pitching ball a life work!" sighed Mrs. Matson. "Oh, Joe! if it was only preaching--or something like that."
"Let the boy alone, Mother," said Mr. Matson, with a good-humored twinkle in his eye. "We can't all be ministers, and I'd rather have a world series winner in my family than a poor lawyer or doctor. He'll do more good in society, too. Good luck to you, Joe."
But Joe was not to get away to the South as quietly as he hoped. He was importuned by his old baseball chums to pitch an exhibition game for them, but he did not think it wise, under the circumstances, so declined.
But they wanted to do him honor, and, learning through Tom Davis--who, I may say in passing, got the secret from Clara--when Joe's train was to leave, many of the old members of the Silver Stars gathered to wish their hero Godspeed.
"What's the matter with Baseball Joe?" was the cry outside the station, whither Joe had gone with his sister and mother, his father having bidden him good-bye earlier.
"_He's--all--right!_" came the staccato reply.
"Why--what--what does it mean?" asked Mrs. Matson in bewilderment as she sat near her son in the station, and heard the cries.
"Oh, it's just the boys," said Joe, easily.
"They're giving Joe a send-off," explained Clara.
Quite a crowd gathered as the members of the amateur nine cheered Joe again and again. Many other boys joined in, and the scene about the railroad depot was one of excitement.
"Joe Matson's going off," was the answer.
"Don't you know?" The lad looked at the man in half-contempt. "Why, he pitched a winning game for Yale against Princeton, and now he's going to the Pittstons of the Central League."
"Oh, I see. Hum. Is that he?" and the man pointed to the figure of our hero, surrounded by his friends.
"That's him! Say, I wish he was me!" and the lad looked enviously at Joe.
"I--I never knew baseball was so--so popular," said Mrs. Matson to Clara, as the shouting and cheers grew, while Joe resisted an attempt on the part of the lads to carry him on their shoulders.
"I guess it's as much Joe as it is the game," answered Clara, proudly.
"Three cheers for Joe!" were called for, and given with a will.
Again came the question as to who was all right, and the usual answer followed. Joe was shaking hands with two lads at once, and trying to respond to a dozen requests for letters, or passes to the league games.