the Shortstop (1992) (22 page)

Maru hanging to his coat sleeve, was deluged in a storm of felicitations.

The banquet-room, with its long decorated table, brought a yell from the hungry ball players. The waiters began moving swiftly to and fro; the glasses clinked musically; the noisy hum of conversation and jest grew steadily louder and gayer. There were fourteen courses and every player ate every course, except Benny, who got stalled on the unlucky thirteenth. Then chairs were shoved back and cigars lighted.

Judge Meggs, who was toastmaster, rose and spoke for a few moments, congratulating Findlay on her great ball-team, and the directors on their prosperous season, and the players on having won the championship. At the close he ended with a neat presentation speech.

Then before each player was placed a large colored box with a fitting inscription on the lid. Chase's was " 416. " Enoch's was "Mugg's Landing." Benny's was "My Molly O. " On Cas's was a terrible representation of a bulldog, with the name "Algy" above, and below Cas's well-known "Wha-at?" And so on it went down the line.

Inside the boxes were the purses, shares of benefit, presents from directors, and from individuals. Chase won both hitting and base-stealing purses, Cas the pitcher's, Enoch the fielder's. Each got a silver watch, a gold scarf-pin, and link cuff-buttons. Each got cards calling for an umbrella, a hat, a Morris chair, a box of candy. All received different presents from personal friends and admirers. Chase was almost overcome to find that judge Meggs and other friends had that very morning furnished his cottage completely.

Then the toastmaster interrupted the happy buzzings and called on Mac. The little manager bounced up with shiny face; he lauded Findlay and its generous citizens; he raved about the baseball team; he spouted over Cas and Benny, and almost ended in tears over Chase.

" Gentlemen," said judge Meggs, impressively, "we have with us to-night a remarkable ball-player and good fellow. He has captained the team with excellen
t
judgment; he has been a great factor in our victory. We have expected much of him and have not been disappointed. We expect much of him to-night. For surely a man with his wonderful command of language, his startling originality of expression, and his powers of uninterrupted, flowing speech, such as we are all so happily familiar with, will give us a farewell word to cheer our hearts through the long winter to come. Gentlemen, Mr. Enoch Winters."

Enoch rose as if some subterranean force had propelled him. His round red face and round owl eyes had their habitual expression of placid wisdom. But Enoch had difficulty with his vocalization. " Gennelmen," he began, and then it was evident his voice frightened him. " I - this - y'see !" he stammered, rolled up his tongue into his cheek to find his never-failing quid this time failing him. " Great honor - sure - I - we 'preciate - "

Then the voluble coacher, the bane of pitchers and umpires, the terror of the inexperienced, stammered that something was "too full fer words"
a
nd sat down. Whether he said " stomach " or " heart" no one knew, but all assumed he meant the latter and roared their applause. Judge Meggs, with a few fitting words, called upon Castorious ; and Cas, he of the iron arm, iron heart and voice, could not establish relations between his mind and his speech.

Judge Meggs said: "Gentlemen, we want to hear from our great second baseman, who, we are sorry to say and happy also, will not be with us next season. For he is going higher up. We have heard of a yet better stroke of fortune that has befallen him. In brief, we understand he has won from our midst one of Findlay's sweetest and best girls, and that the happy fulfilment of such good fortune is to be celebrated upon a day in the near future. We think he owes us something. Gentlemen, Mr. Benny Ross."

" No one ever had such friends! " cried Benny, dramatically. " No one ever had such friends ! " And that was all he could say.

" Gentlemen," said judge Meggs, "we have with us to-night a lad who came to Findlay empty-handed, yet who brought much. We shall watch his future as we have watched him develop here. And when he returns to Findlay to become one of her solid, substantial business men, we shall not forget when he was a Star of the Diamond. Gentlemen, Mr. Chase Alloway."

Chase managed to rise to his feet, but was utterly unable to respond. Emotion made him speechless. He smiled helplessly at judge Meggs and sat down. The judge called upon several other players, and they too might as well have been dumb.

Then Mittie-Maru laboriously climbed upon his chair, and raised his strange, shrunken figure. He put his right hand to his breast and beamed upon the company. "Mr. Toastmaster an' friends," began Mittie, "my worthy captain an' fellow players are too full fer utterance. Mebbe the sparklin' stuff in the long-stemmed glasses hes tongue-tied 'em. Somebody must thank all you gentlemen fer thi
s
banquet, an' it 's up to me. If the bases was full now we could feel sure of gittin' a hit, fer we 're sure long on hits an' short on speeches.

" Fer the team I wanter say thet this is a gran' an' glorious occasion, thet Findlay is the finest town in the U. S., thet the directors an' supporters of the team are real sports an' good fellows, the best ever! This hes been a great Summer fer us all, an' we've been happy. We're sorry it 's over. Baseball players hev to go from town to town an' part from each other an' kind friends. An' I 'm sure none of us will ever forgit the fight we made fer the pennant an' the friends we made in good old Findlay."

Right warmly did all join in applause. Then, after a parting word from the judge, good-nights were spoken, and the banquet to the championship team was over.

Before Chase went home he wrote a letter to his mother, and told her, as he was still boss of the family, and disposed to become more so in the future, she and Will were to come to Findlay. The
y
were to dispense with all the old useless furniture and belongings, that would only have reminded them of past dark hours, and to come prepared for a surprise and future brightness.

Chase slept poorly that night, and kept Mittie-Maru awake, and in the morning got him out at an early hour to see the cottage. It seemed that a fairy's hand had been at work during the last forty-eight hours. The cottage was furnished from one end to the other, not poorly nor yet lavishly, but in a manner that showed the taste of a woman and the hand of a man. Chase felt that some one had read his mind. Who had guessed which was to be his mother's room, and Will's, and his own, and therein placed such articles as would best please each? So Chase learned in another way that the needs of the human heart are alike in every one.

That day he and Mittie loaded the pantry with all manner of groceries. Then while Mittie went out to his old home in the brick-kiln to fetch the few things he owned, Chase fitted up th
e
little room next to his. When Mittie saw it he screwed up his face and sa
t
gingerly on the little, white bed. " I 'll be dinged if it ain't swell !"

After this, Chase would have it that Mittie should go with him to a stor
e
and purchase a suit. Mittie submitted gracefully, and after a trying tim
e
in the store he produced a dilapidated pocket-book and began to coun
t
out the price marked on the tag of the selected suit.

"No, you don't," said Chase, "this is on me."

" Mebbe you tho't I was busted," replied Mittie, with a smile. " I ain't o
n
my uppers yet, me boy. Never was much fer style, but, now when th
e
time comes, I can produce."

Chase and Mittie were arguing the question when the storekeeper sai
d
they must regard the suit as a present, and refused to be paid. " Wot t' ael
l
!" exclaimed Mittie. " Hev I ben hittin' the pipe?"

The afternoon and evening were very long to Chase. He slept that nigh
t
from sheer exhaustion. He was up wit
h
the sun, woke Mittie, whistled, sang, and consulted his watch every few moments. The train he expected his mother and Will on was due at ten o'clock. He packed his effects, and sent Mittie for a wagon to take them to the cottage. Then he went, hours before train-time, to the station where he paced the platform. What an age it seemed! At last he heard the train whistle, and he trembled. He ran to and fro. Suppose they did not come ? With a puffing and rumbling the engine slowed up and came to a stop.

Only two passengers got off, and upon these Chase swooped down like a hawk. He gathered the little woman up in his arms and smothered all her voice except "my Chase."

" Hello, Will ! How about college, old boy, "You great, brown giant I "

And that was all. Chase bundled them into a hack, and telling the driver where to go, he looked at his mother and brother, so as really to see them. How changed they were! His mother's face had lost its weary shade. She wa
s
actually young and pretty again. And Will-he was not the same at all.

Bells of joy rang in Chase's heart. Then he began to talk and he talke
d
like a babbling brook. Baseball, the championship, his leading th
e
league, his sale to Detroit, his many friends, about the certainty of Will'
s
going to college-everything but where they were going. Then the hac
k
stopped. Chase helped them out, and turning to the hackman, thanke
d
him and held up a dollar.

"This 's my treat," said the hackman, tipping his hat.

"Say, isn't my money any good round here?" demanded Chase.

"Your money's same as counterfeit in Findlay. Good luck!" With a smile
,
the hackman turned his team and drove away.

"Chase, what a pretty place!" said his mother.

"Do you board here?"

"Well, not yet. But I hope to."

Chase opened the front door and ushered them in. A bright fire crackle
d
in the open grate.

"Mother, this is home."

Then for a brief space the three mingled tears with their happiness. And at last the mother raised her face with a flush. " How I have worried - for nothing !"

Chase called up the stairway. " Mittie! Come down. We've company." Then he whispered to them, "Mittie is my little friend of whom I wrote. He's a hunchback. If you look at his eyes you will never think of his deformity."

Mittie came down without reluctance, yet shyly. The new suit considerably altered his appearance: nevertheless, as always, he made a strange and pathetic little figure. He advanced a few steps, stopped and waited, with his fine eyes fixed gravely and steadily upon them.

" I am very glad indeed to meet my son's friend Mittie," said Chase's mother. "My name's Mitchel Malone," answered Mittie, "an' I'm happy to know you an Chase's brother."

" Mittie-maru, he'll always be to me," said Chase. "Mother, he is going to live with us."

" I hev no home," replied Mittie, to Mrs. Alloway's kind questioning look. "My parents are dead. I never saw them."

Then followed the pleasant task of showing the cottage and grounds. The day passed like a happy dream. At sunset Chase slipped away from them and went down through the grove to the river.

He was rejoicing in the happiness of others. Yet now that his hopes were realities an unaccountable weight suddenly lay heavy as lead on his heart. He had succeeded beyond his wildest fancy. There was the cottage, and it contained his friend Mittie-maru, and Will, with the clear light of joy in his eyes, and his mother, well, and happier than he had ever seen her. These were blessings such as he was sure he did not deserve, but humble and thankful as they made him, he was not entirely content. Suddenly the glamour of all he had been working to accomplish paled in the moment of its achievement.

The swift-flowing river murmured ove
r
stones and glided along the brown banks toward the setting sun. Th
e
song of the water was all the sound to break the silence. Silver cloud
s
and golden light lay reflected in the river, and slowly shaded as the su
n
sank. This hour with its diminishing brightness, its slow approach o
f
gray twilight, its faint murmuring river-song, sadder than any stillness
,
singularly fitted Chase's mood.

A shout from Mittie-Maru brought Chase out of the depths. He answere
d
and turned toward the grove. Mittie came hobbling with a celerity tha
t
threatened peril to the frail limbs so unaccustomed to such effort.

"Lock the gate!" he called out, waving a letter at Chase.

"Wonder who's writing me?" asked Chase, failing to note Mittie'
s
agitation.

"Thet's Miss Marjory's writin'."

Chase's hands trembled slightly. Mittie's eyes were gloriously bright.

"Last innin's !" Sang out the lad. "You waited it out, Chase. An' now '
s
the time to dig. Git up on yer toes an' run, Chase,-run as yer never ru
n
turnin'
t
hird in yer life, an' when yer reach home base an' Miss Marjory, an' score-why -why just give her one fer Mittie, who umpired yer game." Chase scarcely heard his little friend, and did not see him hurry away toward the cottage, for his eyes were now fixed on the opened letter.