the more dignified way was to stop at his own house. Further, Paul should take him to the office in the morning and call for him at four-thirty again. He wouldn't be afraid to ride in the red car even in daylight now. Sitting there not twenty feet from that Pitcher!
"Eight o'clock in the morning," he said curtly to Paul as he descended. And Paul touched his leather cap respectfully as the car moved off.
Cassidy lounged near in shirt sleeves.
"I see three was kilt-up in wan yistaday in th' Bur-ronx," said Cassidy interestedly.
"Good thing for the tired business man, though," said Bean, yawning in a bored way. "And that fellow of mine is careful."
Then his seeming boredom vanished.
"Say, you can't guess who I saw just now. Close to him as I am to you this minute"
| · | · | · | · | · | · | · |
Solitary in the big red car, descending the crowded lanes of the city the next morning, Bean's sensations were conceivably those that had been Ram-tah's at the zenith of his power. There was the fragrant and cherished memory of the Greatest Pitcher, and a car to ride solitary in that simply blared the common herd from before it. People in street-cars looked enviously out at him. He lolled urbanely, with a large public manner. When you were a king you behaved like one, and the world knelt to you. Great pitchers sitting under the same roof with you; red motor-cars; fumed
