“Sell me that block, Mr. Courtney,” he suggested with a sudden inspiration.

The mad mob rose to its feet just then and pleaded with Sweeney to “Hit ’er out!” Shrieks, howls and bellows resounded upon every hand; purple-faced fans held their clenched fists tight to their breasts so that they could implore the louder.

“On what terms?” shouted Courtney into Johnny’s ear.

“I’ll take over your contract,” yelled Johnny beneath Courtney’s hat brim.

“On what terms?” repeated Courtney at the top of his voice.

“Bless your heart, Sweeney, slam it!” shrieked the now crimson-visaged colonel.  He was standing on his chair, with distended eyes, and waving his hat violently.

“Your original price!” loudly called Johnny.  “Pay you fifteen thousand now, fifty thousand in thirty days and the balance in sixty.”

Sweeney fanned.  The atrocious tumult was drowned, in the twinkling of an eyelash, in a dismal depthless gulf of painful silence.  One could have heard a mosquito wink.

“Where’s my security?” bellowed Courtney in Johnny’s ear, so vociferously that all the grandstand turned in that direction and three park policemen headed for the riot.

“Just come outside and I’ll tell you,” whispered Johnny with a grin.

“Ashley, how do you like your car?” asked Polly in the groaning calm which followed Sweeney’s infamous strike-out.

“I’m just designing a private medal for the builder,” replied Loring.

“Self-cranker, isn’t it?”

“Self-cranker, automatic oiler, and supplies its own gasolene.  Why?”

“Well, Constance is talking of buying one, and mine is a little too muscular for her.  Suppose you take her for a spin after the game and deliver her safely to her Aunt Pattie.  I’ll take the boys back in my car.”

“I’m cheating you in the exchange, but my conscience doesn’t hurt me in the least,” accepted Loring with alacrity.

“I’ve never been in your car, Ashley,” insinuated Gresham.  “You might invite me to try it out too.”

“At five-thirty to-morrow evening,” Ashley coolly advised him.  “I’d be very glad to have you come along now; but the car is engaged for a strictly private demonstration.”

Since the others were prepared to guy him unmercifully if he persisted, Gresham hinted no more and, very much to his discomfort, saw Loring gaily drive away with Constance.

On Riverside Drive, Loring spent the first fifteen minutes in extolling the virtues of his car and Constance listened with patient attention; but during the first convenient silence she surprised Loring with a bit of crisp business talk.

“Would you mind telling me the history of Mr. Gamble’s partnership with Mr. Collaton?” she asked.

“I guess I heard what you said,” he returned doubtfully, and he looked at her in astonishment.  “Of course you know that Johnny is a client of mine.”