- selves. The crowd just went crazy when our new
southpaw slant artist started the fireworks going in the sixth with a clean wallop, moved up a peg on a sacrifice, pilfered the third hassock, and slid home on a beautiful squeeze that gave us our first count, and—"
"Stop, Janet!" he cried, bewildered. "What are you talking about?"
"Why, baseball, daddy! I'm simply telling you how we won the game."
"You may be trying to tell me, but you are not doing it simply. 'Coat of whitewash,' 'bingle,' 'southpaw slant artist,' 'clean wallop,' 'third hassock,' 'beautiful squeeze'! My dear, it's dreadful for a young lady to use such language. It is ample evidence of the absolutely demoralizing influence of this game called baseball."
She laughed still more gayly, and again patted his cheek caressingly. "That's simply the idiom of the game, which every true fan understands."
"But you should remember that I am not a true fan, whatever that may mean. I abhor slang, especially from the lips of a refined girl. You know my efforts alone last year prevented the desecration of the Sabbath by this dreadful game, which seems to turn people's heads, and is productive of untold strife and bitterness. What
