"I can't now, Joe. Perhaps I will some time. It isn't anything serious--yet," and with that Mrs. Matson hurried out of the room.

She smiled as she left her son, but when she reached the kitchen the same serious look came over her face again.

"I hope what he fears doesn't come to pa.s.s," she remarked to herself.

"Poor Joe! it would be too bad if he couldn't go to a boarding school when his heart is so set on it. And to become a pitcher! I wish he had some higher ambition in life, though I suppose all boys are alike at his age," and she sighed.

"Hum," mused Joe as he went about setting the table, for the Matsons kept no girl and Joe and his sister often helped their mother with the housework when their school duties permitted. "Something is worrying mother," the lad went on. "I hope it isn't anything about father's business in the harvester works. He took a risk when he gave up his position in Bentville and took a new one here. But that was an exciting game all right," and Joe smiled at the recollection as he went on putting the plates around at their places.

CHAPTER IV

A ROW WITH SAM

"What are you thinking about, Joe?"

It was his sister Clara who asked the question, and she had noticed that her brother was rather dreaming over his books than studying. It was the Monday night after the Sat.u.r.day when the memorable game with the Resolutes had taken place.

"Oh, nothing much," and Joe roused himself from a reverie and began to pour over his books.

"Well, for 'nothing much' I should say that it was a pretty deep subject," went on Clara with a laugh, as she finished doing her examples. "It isn't one of the girls here, is it Joe? There are a lot of pretty ones in our cla.s.s."

"Oh--bother!" exclaimed Joe. "Let a fellow alone, can't you, when he's studying? We have some pretty stiff work I tell you!" and he ruffled up his hair, as if that would make his lessons come easier. "It's a heap worse than it was back in Bentville."

"I think so too, but I like it, Joe. We have a real nice teacher, and I've met a lot of pleasant girls. Do you know any of the boys?"

"Hu! I guess you want me to give you an introduction to them!" exclaimed Joe.

"No more than you do to the girls I know," retorted his sister, "so there!"

"Now, now," gently remonstrated Mrs. Matson, looking up from her sewing, "you young folks keep on with your lessons. Your father can't go on reading his paper if you dispute so."

Involuntarily Joe and his sister glanced to where Mr. Matson sat in his easy chair. But he did not seem to be reading, though he held the paper up in front of him. Joe fancied he saw a look of worriment on his father's face, and he wondered if he was vexed over some problem in inventive work, or whether he was troubled over business matters concerning his new position.

Then there came to the lad's mind a memory of his mother's anxiety the night he had come in from the game, and he wondered if the two had any connection. But he knew it would not do to ask, for his father seldom talked over business matters at home.

Finally, seeming to feel Joe's look, Mr. Matson, after a quick glance at his son, began to scan the paper.

"Go on with your studying, Joe and Clara," commanded Mrs. Matson with a smile. "Don't dispute any more."

"I was only asking Joe if he knew any nice boys," spoke Clara in vindication. "I know how fond he was of playing baseball back in Bentville, and I was wondering if he was going to play here."

"Guess I haven't much chance," murmured Joe half gloomily, as he drew idle circles on the back blank leaf of his book.

"Why not?" asked Clara quickly. "The girls say the boys have a good nine here, even if they were beaten last Sat.u.r.day. There's going to be another game this Sat.u.r.day, and Helen Rutherford is going to take me."

"Oh, yes, there's a good enough team here," admitted Joe. "In fact the Silver Stars are all right, but every position is filled. I _would_ like to play--I'd like to pitch. I want to get all the practice I can on these small teams, so when I go to boarding school I'll have something to talk about."

"And you're still set on going to boarding school?" asked Mrs. Matson, sighing gently as she looked at her son.

"I certainly am--if it can be managed," replied Joe quickly.

Mr. Matson started so suddenly that the paper rattled loudly, and his wife asked:

"What's the matter, John, did something in the news startle you?"

"Oh--no," he said slowly. "I--I guess I'm a bit nervous. I've been working rather hard lately on an improvement in a corn reaper and binder. It doesn't seem to come just right. I believe I'll go to bed.

I'm tired," and with "good-nights" that were not as cheerful as usual he left the room. Mrs. Matson sighed but said nothing, and Joe wondered more than ever if any trouble was brewing. He hoped not. As for Clara she was again bent over her lessons.

The Silver Star nine was variously made up. A number of lads worked in different town industries, one even being employed in the harvester works where Mr. Matson was employed. Others attended school.

Joe Matson had attended the academy in the town of Bentville whence they moved to Riverside, and on arriving in the latter place had at once sought admission to the high school. He was given a brief examination, and placed in the junior cla.s.s, though in some of the studies the pupils there were a little ahead of him, consequently he had to do some hard studying.

The ambition to attend a boarding school had been in Joe's mind for a long while, and as his father was in moderate circ.u.mstances, and soon hoped to make considerable from his patents, Joe reasoned that his parents could then afford to send him.

Among others on the nine who attended the high school were Darrell Blackney and Sam Morton, who were in the senior cla.s.s, and Tom Davis, whose acquaintance Joe had made soon after coming to Riverside. There was a school nine, but it was made up of the smaller boys and Joe had no desire to join this. In fact none of the lads who were on the Silver Stars belonged to the school team.

"Well, I'm through, thank goodness!" finally exclaimed Clara, as she closed her books.

"And I am too," added Joe, a moment later. "Hope I don't flunk to-morrow."

"Are you going to the game Sat.u.r.day?" asked Clara.

"Oh, I guess so. Wish I was going _in_ it, but that's too much to hope for."

"Don't you know any one on the nine?"

"Yes, Tom Davis."

"He's the boy back of us, isn't he? His sister Mabel is in my cla.s.s."

"Yes," a.s.sented Joe, "but Tom is only a subst.i.tute."

"Maybe you could be that at first, and then get a regular place,"

suggested Clara.

"Um!" murmured Joe. He didn't have a very high opinion of girls'

knowledge of baseball, even his sister's.

When Joe reached home from school the following afternoon he saw his mother standing on the front steps with a letter in her hand.

"Oh, Joe!" she exclaimed, "I was just waiting for you. Your father----"

"Is there anything the matter with father?" the lad gasped, his thoughts going with a rush to one or two little scenes that had alarmed him lately.

"No, nothing at all," answered his mother with a smile. "But he just hurried home from the factory with this note and he wanted you, as soon as you came home, to take it to Moorville. It's for a Mr. Rufus Holdney there. The address is on it, and I guess you can find him all right.