jovially to the applause before Gresham had quite succeeded in
squeezing himself down behind the door of the box.

Naturally it was Polly who led the applause; and Constance shocked
the precise Gresham by joining in heartily.

She was looking up at Johnny with sparkling eyes and flushed cheeks
when Gresham came out of his cyclone cellar--and, if he had disliked
Gamble before, now he hated him.

It is a strange feature of the American national game that the more
perfectly it is played the duller it is. This was a pitchers'
battle; and the game droned along, through inning after inning, with
seldom more than three men to bat in each half, while the score
board presented a most appropriate double procession of naughts.
Spectators, warmly praising that smoothly oiled mechanical process
of one, two, three and out, and telling each other that this was a
great game, nevertheless yawned and dropped their score cards, and
put away their pencils, and looked about the grandstand in search of
faces they knew.

In such a moment Colonel Bouncer, who had come into this box because
of a huge admiration for Polly and an almost extravagant respect for
Constance, and who had heartily wished himself out of it during the
last two or three innings, now happily discovered a familiar face
only a few rows back of him. "By George, Johnny, there's Courtney
now!" he announced.

Gamble looked with keen interest.