Zane Grey? Base-ball?
***
a selection from the first chapter:
Mrs. Alloway came in, a slight little woman, pale, with marks of care on her patient face. She greeted him with a smile, which faded quickly in surprise and dismay.
"You-re home early, Chase," she said anxiously.
"Mother, I told you I was going to ask for more money. Well, I did. The forem... More
Zane Grey? Base-ball?
***
a selection from the first chapter:
Mrs. Alloway came in, a slight little woman, pale, with marks of care on her patient face. She greeted him with a smile, which faded quickly in surprise and dismay.
"You-re home early, Chase," she said anxiously.
"Mother, I told you I was going to ask for more money. Well, I did. The foreman laughed at me and refused. So I threw up my job."
"My boy! My boy!" faltered Mrs. Alloway.
Chase was the only bread-winner in their household of three. His brother, a bright, studious boy of fifteen, was a cripple. Mrs. Alloway helped all she could with her needle, but earned little enough. The winter had been a hard one, and had left them with debts that must be paid. It was no wonder she gazed up at him in distressed silence.
"I-ve been sick of this job for a long time," went on Chase. " I-ve been doing a lot of thinking. There-s no chance for me in the factory. I-m not quick enough to catch the hang of mechanics. Here I am over seventeen and big and strong, and I-m making six dollars a week. Think of it! Why, if I had a chance- See here, mother, haven't I studied nights ever since I left school to go to work? I-m no dummy. I can make something of myself. I want to get into business - business for myself, where I can buy and sell."
"My son, it takes money to go into business. Where on earth can you get any?"
"I-ll make it," replied Chase, eagerly. A flush reddened his cheek. He would have been handsome then, but for his one defect, a crooked eye. " I-ll make it. I need money quick - and I-ve hit on the way to make it. I - "
"How?"
The short query drew him up sharply, chilling his enthusiasm. He paced the kitchen, and then, with a visible effort, turned to his mother.
" I am going to be a base-ball player."
The murder was out now and he felt relief. His mother sat down with a little gasp. He waited quietly for her refusal, her reproach, her arguments, ready to answer them one by one.
"I won't let you be a ball player."
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