"Ivy-girl," he said.

"What?" snapped Ivy.

"Your old father's just talking for your own good. You're
breaking your ma's heart. You and me have been good pals, haven't
we?"

"Yes," said Ivy, grudgingly, and without looking up.

"Well now, look here. I've got a proposition to make to you.
The season's over in two more weeks. The last week they play out
of town. Then the boys'll come back for a week or so, just to hang
around town and try to get used to the idea of leaving us. Then
they'll scatter to take up their winter jobs-cutting ice, most of
'em," he added, grimly.

"Mr. Schlachweiler is employed in a large establishment in
Slatersville, Ohio," said Ivy, with dignity. "He regards baseball
as his profession, and he cannot do anything that would affect his
pitching arm."

Pa Keller put on the tremolo stop and brought a misty look
into his eyes.

"Ivy, you'll do one last thing for your old father, won't
you?"

"Maybe," answered Ivy, coolly.