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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Jester of St. Timothy's + +Author: Arthur Stanwood Pier + +Release Date: January 16, 2006 [EBook #17535] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE JESTER OF ST. TIMOTHY'S *** + + + + +Produced by Jonathan Niehof, Suzanne Shell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 362px;"> +<span class="toclnk"><a href="#CONTENTS">TOC</a></span> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="362" height="551" alt="[Illustration: Front Cover: The Jester of St. Timothy's]" title="Front Cover: The Jester of St. Timothy's" /> +</div> +<h4><a name="Page_i" id="Page_i"></a><span class="pagenum" title="i"></span>OFFICERS OF THE NATIONAL COUNCIL.</h4> + +<p class="block">Honorary President, THE HON. WOODROW WILSON<br /> +Honorary Vice-President, HON. WILLIAM H. TAFT<br /> +Honorary Vice-President, COLONEL THEODORE ROOSEVELT<br /> +President, COLIN H. LIVINGSTONE, Washington, D. C.<br /> +Vice-President, B. L. DULANEY, Bristol, Tenn.<br /> +Vice-President, MILTON A. McRAE, Detroit, Mich.<br /> +Vice-President, DAVID STARK JORDAN, Stanford University, Cal.<br /> +Vice-President, F. L. SEELY, Asheville, N. C.<br /> +Vice-President, A. STAMFORD WHITE, Chicago, Ill.<br /> +Chief Scout, ERNEST THOMPSON SETON, Greenwich, Connecticut<br /> +National Scout Commissioner, DANIEL CARTER BEARD, Flushing, N. Y.</p> + + +<h3>NATIONAL HEADQUARTERS</h3> +<h2>BOY SCOUTS OF AMERICA</h2> + +<p class="center">THE FIFTH AVENUE BUILDING, 200 FIFTH AVENUE<br/> +TELEPHONE GRAMERCY 546<br /> +NEW YORK CITY</p> + + +<h4>FINANCE COMMITTEE</h4> +<p class="block">John Sherman Hoyt, Chairman<br /> +August Belmont<br /> +George D. Pratt<br /> +Mortimer L. Schiff<br /> +H. Rogers Winthrop</p> + +<p class="block"><br />GEORGE D. PRATT, Treasurer<br /> +JAMES E. WEST, Chief Scout Executive</p> + + +<h4>ADDITIONAL MEMBERS OF THE EXECUTIVE BOARD</h4> + +<p class="block">Ernest P. Bidwell<br /> +Robert Garrett<br /> +Lee F. Hanmer<br /> +John Sherman Hoyt<br /> +Charles C. Jackson<br /> +Prof. Jeremiah W. Jenks<br /> +William D. Murray<br /> +Dr. Charles P. Neill<br /> +George D. Porter<br /> +Frank Presbrey<br /> +Edgar M. Robinson<br /> +Mortimer L. Schiff<br /> +Lorillard Spencer<br /> +Seth Sprague Terry</p> + +<p style="text-align: right; margin-top: 3em;">July 31st, 1913. +</p> + +<p>TO THE PUBLIC:—</p> + +<p>In the execution of its purpose to give educational value and +moral worth to the recreational activities of the boyhood of America, +the leaders of the Boy Scout Movement quickly learned that to effectively +carry out its program, the boy must be influenced not only in his +out-of-door life but also in the diversions of his other leisure moments. +It is at such times that the boy is captured by the tales of daring +enterprises and adventurous good times. What now is needful is not +that his taste should be thwarted but trained. There should constantly +be presented to him the books the boy likes best, yet always the books +that will be best for the boy. As a matter of fact, however, the boy’s +taste is being constantly vitiated and exploited by the great mass of +cheap juvenile literature.</p> + +<p>[Footer: “DO A GOOD TURN DAILY.” «over»]</p> + +<p>To help anxiously concerned parents and educators to meet this +grave peril, the Library Commission of the Boy Scouts of America has +been organised. EVERY BOY’S LIBRARY is the result of their labors. +All the books chosen have been approved by them. The Commission is +composed of the following members: George F. Bowerman, Librarian, Public +Library of the District of Columbia, Washington, D. C.; Harrison W. +Graver, Librarian, Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh, Pa.; Claude G. Leland, +<a name="Page_ii" id="Page_ii"></a><span class="pagenum" title="ii"></span>Superintendent, Bureau of Libraries, Board of Education, New York City; +Edward F. Stevens, Librarian, Pratt Institute Free Library, Brooklyn, +New York; together with the Editorial Board of our Movement, William +D. Murray, George D. Pratt and Frank Presbrey, with Franklin K. Mathiews, +Chief Scout Librarian, as Secretary.</p> + +<p>In selecting the books, the Commission has chosen only such as +are of interest to boys, the first twenty-five being either works of +fiction or stirring stories of adventurous experiences. In later lists, +books of a more serious sort will be included. It is hoped that as +many as twenty-five may be added to the Library each year.</p> + +<p>Thanks are due the several publishers who have helped to +inaugurate this new department of our work. Without their co-operation +in making available for popular priced editions some of the best books +ever published for boys, the promotion of EVERY BOY’S LIBRARY would +have been impossible.</p> + +<p>We wish, too, to express our heartiest gratitude to the Library +Commission, who, without compensation, have placed their vast experience +and immense resources at the service of our Movement.</p> + +<p>The Commission invites suggestions as to future books to be +included in the Library. Librarians, teachers, parents, and all others +interested in welfare work for boys, can render a unique service by +forwarding to National Headquarters lists of such books as in their +judgment would be suitable for EVERY BOY’S LIBRARY.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 20%;">Signed</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 393px;"> +<img src="images/ii.png" width="196" height="54" alt="[Signature: James E. West]" title="James E. West" /> +</div> + +<p style="margin-left: 60%;">Chief Scout Executive.</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 423px;"><a name="Frontispiece" id="Frontispiece"></a><span class="pagenum" title="Front."></span> +<img src="images/front.jpg" width="423" height="652" alt="[Illustration: LAWRENCE LAUNCHED HIMSELF AND HURLED THE RUNNER BACKWARD (p. 194)]" title="LAWRENCE LAUNCHED HIMSELF AND HURLED THE RUNNER BACKWARD (p. 194)" /> +<span>LAWRENCE LAUNCHED HIMSELF AND HURLED THE RUNNER BACKWARD (p. <a href="#Page_194">194</a>)</span> +</div> + +<hr /><p class="center"><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii"></a><span class="pagenum" title="iii"></span>EVERY BOY’S LIBRARY—BOY SCOUT EDITION</p> + +<h1>THE JESTER OF +ST. TIMOTHY’S</h1> + +<h2>By +ARTHUR STANWOOD PIER</h2> + +<p class="center">AUTHOR OF +BOYS OF ST. TIMOTHY’S, +HARDING OF ST. TIMOTHY’S. ETC.</p> + +<p class="center">ILLUSTRATED</p> + +<p class="center">NEW YORK</p> +<p class="center">GROSSET & DUNLAP</p> +<p class="center">PUBLISHERS</p> +<p class="center"><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv"></a><span class="pagenum" title="iv"></span>COPYRIGHT, 1911, BY ARTHUR STANWOOD PIER</p> + +<p class="center">ALL RIGHTS RESERVED</p> + +<p class="center"><em>Published September 1911</em></p> + + +<hr /> +<div><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a></div> +<h2><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v"></a><span class="pagenum" title="v"></span>CONTENTS</h2> + + +<div><table border="0" cellspacing="5%" summary="Table of Contents" title="Table of Contents"> +<tr><td class="tocpg">I.</td><td class="toctitle"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">Irving sets forth on his Adventure</a></td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tocpg">II.</td><td class="toctitle"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">He achieves a Name for Himself</a></td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_26">26</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tocpg">III.</td><td class="toctitle"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">Westby’s Amusements</a></td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_53">53</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tocpg">IV.</td><td class="toctitle"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">The Baiting of a Master</a></td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_75">75</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tocpg">V.</td><td class="toctitle"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">Master turns Pupil</a></td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_96">96</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tocpg">VI.</td><td class="toctitle"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">The Penalty for a Foul</a></td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_120">120</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tocpg">VII.</td><td class="toctitle"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">The Worm begins to turn</a></td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_142">142</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tocpg">VIII.</td><td class="toctitle"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">The Harvard Freshman</a></td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_166">166</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tocpg">IX.</td><td class="toctitle"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">Westby in the Game</a></td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_183">183</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tocpg">X.</td><td class="toctitle"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">Master and Boy</a></td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_205">205</a></td></tr> +</table> +</div> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi"></a><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii"></a><span class="pagenum" title="vii"></span><a name="ILLUSTRATIONS" id="ILLUSTRATIONS"></a>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + +<div><table border="0" cellspacing="5%" summary="List of Illustrations" title="List of illustrations"> +<tr><td class="toctitle">Lawrence launched himself and hurled the runner backward <span style="font-variant: normal;">(p. <a href="#Page_194">194</a>)</span></td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Frontispiece"><em>Frontispiece</em></a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="toctitle">The canoes swung about and made for Each Other</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_52f">52</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="toctitle">As to who had won, Irving had not the Slightest Idea</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_140f">140</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="toctitle">A Shadow crossed Westby’s Face</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_220f">220</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p><em>From drawings by B. L. Bates</em><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii"></a></p> + + +<hr /> +<h1><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1"></a><span class="pagenum" title="1"></span><a name="THE_JESTER_OF_ST_TIMOTHYS" id="THE_JESTER_OF_ST_TIMOTHYS"></a>THE JESTER OF ST. TIMOTHY’S</h1> + + + +<hr /> +<div><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a><span class="toclnk"><a href="#CONTENTS">TOC</a></span></div> +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h3>IRVING SETS FORTH ON HIS ADVENTURE</h3> + + +<p>In the post-office of Beasley’s general store +Irving Upton was eagerly sorting the mail. +His eagerness at that task had not been abated +by the repeated, the daily disappointments +which it had caused him. During the whole +summer month for which he had now been in +attendance as Mr. Beasley’s clerk, the arrival +of the mail had constituted his chief interest. +And because that for which he had been hoping +had failed to come, his thin face had +grown more worried, and the brooding look +was more constantly in his eyes.</p> + +<p>This afternoon his hand paused; he looked +at the superscription on an envelope unbelievingly. +The letter came from St. Timothy’s +School and was addressed to him. He finished +<a name="Page_2" id="Page_2"></a><span class="pagenum" title="2"></span>distributing the other letters among the boxes, +for people were waiting outside the partition; +then he opened the envelope and read the +type-written enclosure. A flush crept up over +his cheeks, over his forehead; when he raised +his eyes, the brooding look was no longer +in them, but a quiet happiness instead, and +his lips, which had so long been troubled, +were smoothed out in a faint, contented smile. +He read the letter a second time, then put it +in his pocket, and stepped round behind the +counter to sell five cents’ worth of pink gumdrops +to little Abby Lawson.</p> + +<p>When she had gone and the callers after +mail had been satisfied, Irving sat down at +the table in the back of the store. He read the +letter again and mused over it for a few moments +contentedly; then, with it lying open +before him, he proceeded to write an answer.</p> + +<p>After finishing that, he drew from his +pocket some papers—French exercises, done +in a scrawling, unformed hand.</p> + +<p>It was the noon hour, when the people of +the village were all eating their dinners; Mr. +<a name="Page_3" id="Page_3"></a><span class="pagenum" title="3"></span>Beasley had gone home, and Irving was undisturbed. +He helped himself to the crackers +and dried beef which were his luncheon +perquisites, and with these at his elbow and +nibbling them from time to time he set about +correcting his brother’s French.</p> + +<p>He sighed in spite of the happiness which +was pervading him; would Lawrence always +go on confusing some of the forms of <em>être</em> and +<em>avoir</em>? Would he never learn to know the difference +between <em>ils ont</em> and <em>ils sont</em>?</p> + +<p>Irving made his corrections in a neat, pretty +little hand, which of itself seemed to reprove +the student’s awkward scrawl. He turned then +to his own studies, which he was pursuing in a +tattered volume of Blackstone’s Commentaries +on the English Common Law. He did not get +on very fast with this book, and sometimes he +wondered what bearing it could have on the +practice of the law in Ohio at the present time. +But he had been advised to familiarize himself +with the work in the interval before he should +enter a law school—an interval of such doubtful +length!</p> + +<p><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4"></a><span class="pagenum" title="4"></span>Mr. Beasley’s entrance caused him to look +up.</p> + +<p>“I shall be leaving you in less than a +month now, Mr. Beasley,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Got a job to teach, have you?” asked the +storekeeper.</p> + +<p>“Yes—at St. Timothy’s School.”</p> + +<p>“Where may that be?”</p> + +<p>“Up in New Hampshire.”</p> + +<p>“Quite a ways off. But I suppose you don’t +mind that much—having been away to college.”</p> + +<p>“No, I think I’ll like it. Besides,—now +Lawrence will be able to go to college this fall, +and he and I will be pretty near each other. +We’ll be able to spend our holidays together. +I think it’s fine.”</p> + +<p>“It does sound so,” agreed Mr. Beasley. +“Well, I’ll be sorry to lose you, Irving. The +folks all like to have you wait on ’em; you’re +so polite and tidy. But I know clerking in a +country store ain’t much of a job for a college +graduate, and I’m glad you’ve found something +better.”</p> + +<p><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5"></a><span class="pagenum" title="5"></span>“I’m glad if I’ve been of any use to you,” +replied Irving. “I know you didn’t expect +I would be when you took me in. And your +giving me this chance has meant that I could +stay on here and tutor Lawrence this summer +and at the same time pay all my living expenses. +It’s been more of a help than you +know—to Lawrence as well as to me.”</p> + +<p>“You’re both good boys,” said Mr. Beasley. +“But it seems like you’re too shy and quiet +ever to make much of a lawyer, Irving—or +a teacher,” he added, in candid criticism.</p> + +<p>Irving blushed. “Maybe I’ll get over that +in time, Mr. Beasley.”</p> + +<p>“You had better,” observed the storekeeper. +“It’s of no manner of use to anybody—not +a particle. Lawrence, now, is different.”</p> + +<p>Yes, Lawrence was different; the fact impressed +itself that evening on Irving when +his brother came home from the haying field +with his uncle. Lawrence was big and ruddy +and laughing; Irving was slight and delicate +and grave. The two boys went together to<a name="Page_6" id="Page_6"></a><span class="pagenum" title="6"></span> +their room to make themselves ready for supper.</p> + +<p>“We finished the north meadow to-day,” +said Lawrence,—“the whole of it. So don’t +blame me if I go to sleep over French verbs +this evening.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll tell you something that will wake you +up,” Irving replied. “I’m going to teach at +St. Timothy’s School—in New Hampshire. +So your going to college is sure, and we’ll be +only a couple of hours apart.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Irv!” In Lawrence’s exclamation +there was more expressiveness, more joy, than +in all his brother’s carefully restrained statement. +“Oh, Irv! Isn’t it splendid! I think +you’re the finest thing—!” Lawrence grasped +Irving’s hand and at the same time began +thumping him on the back. Then he opened +the door and shouted down the stairs.</p> + +<p>“Uncle Bob! Aunt Ann! Irv has some +great news to-night.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Upton put her head out into the hall; +she was setting the table and held a plate of +bread.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7"></a><span class="pagenum" title="7"></span>“What is it, Irv? Have you—have you +had a letter?”</p> + +<p>There was an anxious, almost a regretful +note in her voice.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Irving. “I’ll tell you about it +when I come down.”</p> + +<p>At the supper table he expounded all the +details. Like Mr. Beasley, his uncle and his +aunt had never heard of St. Timothy’s School. +Irving was able to enlighten them. At college +he had become familiar with its reputation; +it was one of the big preparatory +schools in which the position of teacher had +seemed to him desirable almost beyond the +hope of attainment.</p> + +<p>He recited the terms which had been offered +and which he had accepted: nine hundred dollars +salary the first year, with lodging, board, +washing all provided—so that really it was +the equivalent of fourteen or fifteen hundred +dollars a year. And then there would be the +three months’ vacation, in which he could prosecute +his law studies and earn additional +money.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8"></a><span class="pagenum" title="8"></span>“Sounds good,” said Mr. Upton.</p> + +<p>“Of course I’m very glad,” said Mrs. Upton. +“But how we shall miss you boys! I’ve +got used to having Irving away,—but to be +without Lawrence, too—”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said her husband with a twinkle in +his eyes, “we certainly shall miss Lawrence—especially +in haying time. I’m glad you didn’t +get this news till most of the hay crop was +in. No more farming for you this year, Lawrence.”</p> + +<p>“Why, but there’s all the south meadow +uncut—”</p> + +<p>“I’ll handle that. As long as there was so +much doubt as to whether you’d be able to go +to college or not, I felt that you might be +making yourself useful first of all and studying +only in the odd moments. Now it’s different; +you’ve got to settle down to hard study +and nothing else. And Irving had better devote +himself entirely to you, and leave Mr. +Beasley to struggle along without any college +help.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t believe he’ll miss me very much,” +Irving admitted. “And you’re right, Uncle +<a name="Page_9" id="Page_9"></a><span class="pagenum" title="9"></span>Bob; I can accomplish a great deal more +working with Lawrence this next month. I +ought to be able to get him entered in regular +standing.”</p> + +<p>“If I can do that,” cried Lawrence, “perhaps +I’ll be able to earn my way as Irv did—tutoring +and so on—and not have to call on +you or him for any help.”</p> + +<p>“What on earth should I do with nine hundred +a year?” Irving exclaimed.</p> + +<p>“Save it for your law school fund,” said +Lawrence.</p> + +<p>Irving shrugged his shoulders grandly. +“Oh, I can earn money.”</p> + +<p>Lawrence gave him an affectionate push. +“Tut!” he said. “Be good to yourself once +in a while.”</p> + +<p>It was a happy family that evening. The +uncle and the aunt rejoiced in the good news, +even while regretting the separation.</p> + +<p>Mr. Upton, the younger brother of the +boys’ father, who had been the village clergyman, +shared his brother’s tastes; he read good<a name="Page_10" id="Page_10"></a><span class="pagenum" title="10"></span> +books, he would travel to hear a celebrated +man speak, he had ideas which were not +bounded by his farm. He had encouraged +Irving as well as Lawrence to seek a university +education. The two boys were proud, eager +to free themselves from dependence on the +uncle and aunt who, after their father’s +death, had given them a home. Irving had +worked his way through college, hardly ever +asking for help; he had been a capable scholar +and the faculty had found for him backward +students in need of tutoring.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, Mr. Upton had been busily engaged +in developing and increasing his farm; +that he was beginning to be prosperous Irving +was aware; that he did not more earnestly insist +upon helping his nephews stimulated their spirit +of independence. They knew that they had +been left penniless; Irving sometimes suspected +his uncle of parsimony, yet this was a trait so +incongruous with Mr. Upton’s genial nature +that Irving never communicated the suspicion +to his brother. Irving felt, too, that his +uncle cared less for him than for Lawrence.<a name="Page_11" id="Page_11"></a><span class="pagenum" title="11"></span> +Well, that was natural; Irving was humble +there.</p> + +<p>When the dean of the college had said that +it would be inadvisable for Lawrence to make a +start unless he had at least three hundred dollars +at command, it had seemed to Irving a little narrow +on his uncle’s part not to have come forward +at once with that sum. Instead he had merely +given Lawrence the opportunity to work harder +in the hay-field and so increase his small bank +account. And it had soon become apparent +to Irving that unless he and Lawrence could +between them raise the money, they need not +look to their uncle for help beyond that which +he was already giving. Therefore Irving went +into Mr. Beasley’s store, and hoped daily for +the letter which at last had come.</p> + +<p>Day after day the two brothers worked together. +Irving, quick, impatient, sometimes +losing his temper; Lawrence, slow, calm, turning +the edge of the teacher’s sarcasm sometimes +with a laugh, sometimes with a quiet appeal. +Irving always felt ashamed after these +outbreaks and uneasily conscious that Lawrence<a name="Page_12" id="Page_12"></a><span class="pagenum" title="12"></span> +conducted himself with greater dignity. And +Lawrence forgot Irving’s irritations in gratitude +to him for his help. “It must be a trial +to teach such a numskull,” Lawrence thought; +and at the end of one particularly hard day +he undertook to console his brother by saying, +“Never mind, Irv; it won’t be long now before +you have pupils who aren’t country bumpkins +and don’t need to have things pounded +into their heads with an axe.”</p> + +<p>It had been a rather savage remark that +had called this out; Irving threw down his +book and perching on the arm of his brother’s +chair, put his arm around his neck and begged +his forgiveness.</p> + +<p>“As if I could ever like to teach anybody +else as much as I like to teach you!” he +exclaimed. “I’m sorry, Lawrence; I’ll try to +keep a little better grip on myself.”</p> + +<p>Sometimes it seemed to Irving odd that Lawrence +should be so slow at his books; Irving +did not fail to realize that with the neighbors +or with strangers, in any gathering whatsoever, +Lawrence was always quick, sympathetic, in<a name="Page_13" id="Page_13"></a><span class="pagenum" title="13"></span>terested; +he himself was the one who seemed +dull and immature.</p> + +<p>It had been so with him at college; he had +been merely the student of books. Social life +he had had none, and only now, with the difference +between his brother and himself enforcing +a clearer vision, had he become aware +of some deficiency in his education. In silence +he envied Lawrence and wished that he too +possessed such winning and engaging traits.</p> + +<p>He realized the contrast with especial keenness +on the afternoon when he and Lawrence +began their eastward journey. There was a +party assembled at the station to see them off,—to +see Lawrence off, as Irving reflected, for +never on his own previous departures had he +occasioned any such demonstration.</p> + +<p>Lawrence was presented on the platform +with various farewell gifts—a pair of knit +slippers from Sally Buxton, who was the prettiest +girl in the valley and who tried to slip +them into his hand when no one else was looking, +and blushed when Nora Carson unfeelingly +called attention to her shy attempt; a<a name="Page_14" id="Page_14"></a><span class="pagenum" title="14"></span> +pair of mittens from old Mrs. Fitch; a pocket +comb and mirror from the Uptons’ hired man; +a paper bag of doughnuts from Mrs. Brumby.</p> + +<p>There were no gifts for Irving; indeed, he +had never cared or thought much, one way or +the other, about any of these people clustered +on the platform. Only this summer, seeing them +so frequently in Mr. Beasley’s store, he had felt +the first stirrings of interest in them; now for +the first time he was aware of a wistfulness +because they did not care for him as they did +for Lawrence.</p> + +<p>Mr. Beasley came up to him. “So you’re +off—both of you. Funny thing—I guess +from the looks of you two, if a stranger was to +come along, he’d pick Lawrence out for the +teacher and you for the schoolboy. Lawrence +looks as old as you, and handles himself more +grown up, somehow.”</p> + +<p>“He’s bigger,” Irving sighed.</p> + +<p>“Yes, ’t ain’t only that,” drawled Mr. Beasley. +“Though ’t is a pity you’re so spindling; +good thing for a teacher to be able to lay on +the switch good and hard when needed.”</p> + +<p><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15"></a><span class="pagenum" title="15"></span>“I don’t believe they punish with the switch +at St. Timothy’s.”</p> + +<p>“Then I guess they don’t learn the boys +much. How you going to keep order among +boys if you don’t use the switch?”</p> + +<p>At that moment the train came whistling +round the bend. Irving caught up his bag, +turned and grasped Mr. Beasley’s hand, then +plunged into the crowd which had closed about +his brother. His aunt turned and flung her +arms about him and kissed him; his uncle +gave him a good-natured pat on the back and +then stooped and said in his ear, “Irv, if you +ever get into trouble,—go to Lawrence.”</p> + +<p>There was the merry, kindly twinkle in his +eyes, the quizzical, humorous smile on his lips +that made Irving know his uncle meant always, +deep in his heart, to do the right thing.</p> + +<p>In the train he pondered for a few moments +that last word of advice, wondering if it had +been sincere. It rather hurt his dignity, to be +referred to his younger brother in that way—and +yet it pleased him too; he was glad to +have Lawrence appreciated.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16"></a><span class="pagenum" title="16"></span>Irving spent a day in Cambridge, helping +his brother to get settled in the rooms which +he himself had occupied for four years. Then +he bade Lawrence good-by and resumed his +journey to New Hampshire.</p> + +<p>It was a pleasant September morning when +he presented himself, a sallow, thin-cheeked, +narrow-shouldered, bespectacled youth, before +Dr. Davenport, the rector of St. Timothy’s +School. The sunlight streamed in through the +southern windows of the spacious library, +throwing mellow tints on the bindings of the +books which lined the opposite wall from floor +to ceiling. It was all so bright that Irving, +who was troubled with weak eyes, advanced +into it blinking; and perhaps that was one +reason for the disappointment which flitted +across the rector’s face—and which Irving, +who was acutely sensitive, perceived in his +blinking glance. He flushed, aware that somehow +his appearance was too timorous.</p> + +<p>But Dr. Davenport chatted with him pleasantly, +told him how highly the college authorities +had recommended him, and only laughingly<a name="Page_17" id="Page_17"></a><span class="pagenum" title="17"></span> +intimated a surprise at finding him so young-looking.</p> + +<p>“I hope that teaching won’t age you prematurely,” +he added. “You will probably have +some trying times with the boys—we all do. +But it oughtn’t to be hard for you—especially +as you will be thrown most of all with the +older boys. Mr. Williams, who has had charge of +the Sixth Form dormitory at the Upper School, +is ill with typhoid fever and will probably not +come back this term. So I’m going to put +you in charge there. You will have under you +twenty fellows, some of them the best in the +school. But just because they are in some +ways pretty mature, don’t be—don’t be self-effacing.”</p> + +<p>“I understand,” said Irving. He sat on the +edge of his chair, and crumpled his handkerchief +nervously in his hands. And all the time—with +his singular clearness of intuition—he +was aware of the doubt and distrust passing +through Dr. Davenport’s mind.</p> + +<p>“Don’t be afraid of the boys or show embarrassment +or discomfort before them,” con<a name="Page_18" id="Page_18"></a><span class="pagenum" title="18"></span>tinued +Dr. Davenport, “and on the other hand +don’t try to cultivate dignity by being cold +and austere. Be natural with them—but always +be the master.—There!” he broke off, +smiling, for he saw that Irving looked worried +and seemed to be taking all this as personal +criticism—“that’s the talk that I always give +to a new master; and now I’m done. Here is +a printed copy of the rules and regulations +which I advise you to study; you must try to +familiarize yourself with our customs before +any of the boys arrive. To-morrow the new +boys will come, and you will report for duty +at the Gymnasium, where the entrance examinations +will be held. You will find your room +in the Sixth Form dormitory, at the Upper +School. I hope you will like the life here, Mr. +Upton—and I wish you every possible success +in it.”</p> + +<p>The rector gave him an encouraging handshake +and another friendly smile. But Irving +departed feeling depressed and afraid. He +had seen that the rector was disappointed in +him—in his appearance, in his manner. And<a name="Page_19" id="Page_19"></a><span class="pagenum" title="19"></span> +the rector’s little speech had given him the +clue. Until now, he had not much considered +how large a part of his work would be in the +management and the discipline of the boys; +the mere teaching of them was what had been +in his mind, and for that he felt perfectly +competent. In college, that was all that the +tutoring, in which he had been so successful, +meant. But, confronted by the necessity of +establishing and maintaining friendly human +relations with a lot of strange boys, Irving +for the first time questioned his qualifications, +realizing that the rector too was questioning +them.</p> + +<p>He became more cheerful the next day, +when the new boys began to arrive and he +found himself at once with work to do. He +had mastered pretty thoroughly the names of +the buildings and the geography of the place, +and it was rather pleasant to be able to give +information and directions to those younger +and more ignorant than himself.</p> + +<p>It was pleasant, too, to have one mother who +was wandering round vaguely with her small<a name="Page_20" id="Page_20"></a><span class="pagenum" title="20"></span> +son and to whom he shyly proffered assistance, +show such appreciation of his courtesy +and end by appealing to him to keep always +a friendly eye on her little forlorn Walter. +As it turned out, Irving never afterwards +came much into contact with the boy, who +lived in a different building and was not in +any of his classes; he asked about him from +time to time, and discovered that Walter was +a mischievous person, not troubled by homesickness.</p> + +<p>But most agreeable and reassuring was it +to take charge of the examination-room, where +the new boys were undergoing the tests of +their scholarship. Most of them were candidates +for the Second, Third, and Fourth +Forms, and their ages ranged from twelve to +fifteen; Irving sat at a desk on the platform +and surveyed them while they worked, or tiptoed +down the aisle in response to an appeal +from some uplifted hand.</p> + +<p>He had come so recently from examination-rooms +where he had been one of the pupils +that this experience exhilarated him; it conferred<a name="Page_21" id="Page_21"></a><span class="pagenum" title="21"></span> +upon him an authority that he enjoyed. +He liked to be addressed by these nice-mannered +young boys as “sir,” and to be recognized +by them so unquestioningly as a person +to whom deference must be shown. Altogether +this first day with the new boys inspired +him with confidence, and at the end of +it he attacked the pile of examination books +enthusiastically.</p> + +<p>Mr. Barclay aided him in that task; Mr. +Barclay was a young master also, comparatively, +though he had had several years’ experience. +Irving was attracted to him at once, +and was grateful for the way in which he +made suggestions when there was some uncertainty +as to how a boy should be graded.</p> + +<p>Irving liked, too, the genial chuckle which +preceded an invitation to inspect some candidate’s +egregious blunder; Irving would read +and smile quietly, unaware that Barclay was +watching him and wondering how appreciative +he might be of the ludicrous.</p> + +<p>Two nights Irving spent all alone in the +Sixth Form dormitory; it amused him to walk<a name="Page_22" id="Page_22"></a><span class="pagenum" title="22"></span> +up and down the corridors with the list of +those to whom rooms there had been assigned. +“Collingwood, Westby, Scarborough, Morrill, +Anderson, Baldersnaith, Hill”—some +of them had occupied these rooms as Fifth +Formers, and Irving had asked Mr. Barclay +about them.</p> + +<p>Louis Collingwood was captain of the school +football team; Scarborough was captain of +the school crew.</p> + +<p>“Neither of them will give you any trouble,” +said Barclay. “Scarborough used to be a +cub, but he has developed very much in the +last year or two, and now he and Collingwood +are the best-liked fellows in the school. They +have a proper sense of their responsibility as +leaders of the school, and are more likely to +help you than to make trouble. Morrill is +their faithful follower, though a little harum-scarum +at times. Westby—” the master hesitated +over that name and looked at Irving +with a measuring glance—“Westby is what +you might call the school jester. He’s very +popular with the boys—not equally so with<a name="Page_23" id="Page_23"></a><span class="pagenum" title="23"></span> +all the masters. Personally I’m rather fond +of him. He’s almost too quick-witted sometimes.”</p> + +<p>That evening Barclay took the new master +home to dine with him. Mrs. Barclay was as +cordial and as kind as her husband; Irving +began to feel more than satisfied with his +surroundings.</p> + +<p>“Pity you’re not married, Upton,” Barclay +said, half jokingly. “You’d escape +keeping dormitory if you were—which you’ll +find the meanest of all possible jobs. And +then if your wife’s the right kind—the boys +have to be pretty decent to you in order to +keep on her good side.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Barclay laughed. “I suppose that’s +the only reason they’re pretty decent to you, +William!—You’ll find it easy, Mr. Upton,—for +the reason that they’re a pretty decent +lot of boys.”</p> + +<p>The next day at noon the old boys began to +arrive. Irving was coming out of the auditorium, +where he had been correcting the last set +of examination papers, when a barge drew up<a name="Page_24" id="Page_24"></a><span class="pagenum" title="24"></span> +before the study building and boys clutching +hand-bags tumbled out and hurried into the +building to greet the rector.</p> + +<p>Irving stood for a few moments looking on +with interest: other barges kept coming over +the hill, interspersed with carriages, in which +a few arrived more magnificently.</p> + +<p>It occurred to Irving that perhaps he had +better hasten to his dormitory in order to be +on hand when his charges should begin to appear; +he was just starting away when three +boys arm in arm rushed out of the study +building. They came prancing up to him, all +smiles and twinkles; they were boys of seventeen +or eighteen. They confronted him, blocking +his path; and the one in the middle, a +slim, straight fellow in a blue suit, said,—</p> + +<p>“Hello, new kid! What name?”</p> + +<p>A blush of embarrassment mounted in Irving’s +cheeks; feeling it, he conceived it all +the more advisable to assert his dignity. So he +said without a smile, in a constrained voice,—</p> + +<p>“I am not a new kid. I am a master.”</p> + +<p>The three boys who had been beaming on<a name="Page_25" id="Page_25"></a><span class="pagenum" title="25"></span> +him with good humor in their eyes stared +blankly. Then the one in the middle, with a +sudden whoop of laughter, swung the two +others round and led them off at a run; and +as they went, their delighted laughter floated +back to Irving’s ears.</p> + +<p>His cheeks were tingling, almost as if they +had been slapped. He followed the boys at +a distance; they moved towards the Upper +School. His heart sank; what if they were in +his dormitory?</p> + +<p>He entered the building just as the last of +the three was going up the Sixth Form dormitory +stairs.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<div><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a><span class="toclnk"><a href="#CONTENTS">TOC</a></span></div> +<h2><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26"></a><span class="pagenum" title="26"></span>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h3>HE ACHIEVES A NAME FOR HIMSELF</h3> + + +<p>At the foot of the staircase Irving hesitated +until the sound of the voices and +footsteps had ceased. The three boys had not +seen him when he had entered; he was wondering +whether he had better be courageous, +go right up after them, and introduce himself,—just +as if they had not caught him off his +guard and put him into a ridiculous position,—or +delay a little while in the hope that +their memory of it would be less keen.</p> + +<p>He decided that he had better be courageous. +When he reached the top floor, he +went into his room; he was feeling nervous +over the prospect of confronting his charges, +and he wished to be sure that his hair and his +necktie looked right. While he was examining +himself in the mirror, he heard a door open on +the corridor and a boy call, “Lou! Did you +<a name="Page_27" id="Page_27"></a><span class="pagenum" title="27"></span>know that Mr. Williams won’t be back this +term?”</p> + +<p>Farther down the corridor a voice answered, +“No! What’s the matter?”</p> + +<p>“Typhoid. Mr. Randolph told me.”</p> + +<p>“Who’s taken his place?” It was another +voice that asked this question.</p> + +<p>“A new man—named Upton. I haven’t +laid eyes on him yet.”</p> + +<p>“Wouldn’t it be a joke—!” The speaker +paused to laugh. “Suppose it should turn out +to be the new kid!”</p> + +<p>“‘I am not a new kid; I am a master.’”</p> + +<p>The mimicry was so accurate that Irving +winced and then flushed to the temples. In +the laughter that it produced he closed his +door quietly and sat down to think. He +couldn’t be courageous now; he felt that he +could not step out and face those fellows +who were laughing at him. Of course they +were the ones who ought to be embarrassed +by his appearance, not he; but Irving felt +they would lend one another support and +brazen it through, and that he would be the<a name="Page_28" id="Page_28"></a><span class="pagenum" title="28"></span> +one to exhibit weakness. He decided that he +must wait and try to make himself known to +each one of them separately—that only by +such a beginning would he be likely to engage +their respect.</p> + +<p>It was the first time that he had been +brought face to face with his pitiable diffidence. +He was ashamed; he thought of how +differently Lawrence would have met the situation—how +much more directly he would +have dealt with it. Irving resolved that hereafter +he would not be afraid of any multitude +of boys. But he refrained from making his +presence known in the dormitory that afternoon.</p> + +<p>At half past five o’clock he went downstairs +to the rooms of Mr. Randolph, who had +charge of the Upper School. Mr. Marcy, the +Fifth Form dormitory master, and Mr. Wythe, +the Fourth Form dormitory master, were also +there. They were veterans, comparatively, and +it was to meet them and benefit by what they +could tell him that Irving had been invited. +All three congratulated him on his good<a name="Page_29" id="Page_29"></a><span class="pagenum" title="29"></span> +fortune in obtaining the Sixth Form dormitory.</p> + +<p>“The older they are, the less trouble they +are,” said Wythe. “My first year I was over +at the Lower School, looking after the little +kids. Half the time they’re sick and whimpering +and have to be coddled, and the rest of +the time they have to be spanked.”</p> + +<p>“It hardly matters what age they are,” +lamented Marcy, pessimistically. “There’s +bound to be a dormitory disorder once in +so often.”</p> + +<p>“What do you do in that case?” asked +Irving.</p> + +<p>“Jump hard on some one,” answered Wythe. +“Try to get the leader of it, but if you can’t +get him, get somebody. Report him,—give +him three sheets.”</p> + +<p>“That means writing Latin lines for three +hours on half-holidays?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, and six marks off in Decorum for +the week. Of course they’ll come wheedling +round you, wanting to be excused; you have +to use your own discretion about that.”</p> + +<p><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30"></a><span class="pagenum" title="30"></span>“Do you have any Sixth Form classes?” +asked Marcy.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” Irving answered. “In Geometry.”</p> + +<p>“That means you’ll have to take the upper +hand and hold it, right from the start. If you +have one crowd in dormitory to look after and +another crowd in class, you can afford to relax +a little now and then; but when it’s the +same boys in both—they watch for any sign +of weakening.”</p> + +<p>“There will be only two of them at your +table, any way, Mr. Upton,” said Randolph. +He passed over a list. “The others are all +Fourth and Fifth Formers—only Westby +and Carroll from the Sixth!”</p> + +<p>“Westby!” Wythe sighed. “Maybe we +were premature in congratulating you. I’d +forgotten about Westby.”</p> + +<p>“What is the matter with him?” asked +Irving.</p> + +<p>“His cleverness, and his attractiveness. He +smiles and smiles and is a villain still. He was +in my dormitory year before last and kept it in +a constant turmoil. And yet if you have any +<a name="Page_31" id="Page_31"></a><span class="pagenum" title="31"></span>sense of humor at all you can’t help being +amused by him—even sympathizing with him—though +it’s apt to be at your own expense.”</p> + +<p>“He’s perfectly conscienceless,” declared +Marcy.</p> + +<p>“And yet there’s no real harm in him,” +said Randolph.</p> + +<p>“He seems to be something of a puzzle.” +Irving spoke uneasily. “And he’s to be at +my table—I’m to have a table?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes. In fact, one or two of the Sixth +Formers—Scarborough, for instance—have +tables. But we don’t let all the Sixth Formers +eat together; we try to scatter them. And +Westby and Carroll have fallen to your lot.”</p> + +<p>“If you happen to see either of them before +supper, I should like to meet them,” Irving +said.</p> + +<p>He felt that if he could make their acquaintance +separately and without witnesses, +he could produce a better impression than if +he waited and confronted them before a whole +table of strange faces.</p> + +<p>But as it happened, that was just the way<a name="Page_32" id="Page_32"></a><span class="pagenum" title="32"></span> +that he did meet Westby and Carroll. When +the supper bell sounded, the hallway of the +Upper School was crowded with boys, examining +the schedule which had been posted and +which assigned them to their seats in the +dining-room. Irving, after waiting nervously +until more than half the number had entered +the dining-room and deriving no help from +any of the other masters, went in and stood +at the head of the third table, as he had been +instructed to do. Four or five boys were already +standing there at their places; they +looked at him with curiosity and bowed to him +politely. The crowd as it entered thinned; +Irving was beginning to hope that Westby and +Carroll had gone elsewhere,—and then, just +as Mr. Randolph was mounting to the head +table on the dais, two boys slipped in and stood +at the seats at Irving’s right. He recognized +them as having been two of the three who +had laughed when he had proclaimed himself a +master. One was the slim, tall fellow who had +called him “new kid.”</p> + +<p>For a moment at Irving’s table, after the<a name="Page_33" id="Page_33"></a><span class="pagenum" title="33"></span> +boys had rattled into their seats, there was +silence. In front of Irving were a platter of +cold tongue and a dish of beans, and he began +to put portions of each on the plates piled before +him. Then as he passed the first plate +along the line he looked up and said, “I think +we’d better find out who everybody is. So +each fellow, as he gets his plate, will please +sing out his name.”</p> + +<p>That was not such a bad beginning; there +was a general grin which broadened into a +laugh when the first boy blushingly owned to +the name of Walnut. Then came Lacy and +Norris, and then Westby.</p> + +<p>“Oh,” said Irving. “I think you’re to be +in my dormitory, aren’t you?”</p> + +<p>“I believe so.” Westby looked at him quizzically, +as if expecting him to make some reference +to their encounter; but Irving passed +on to his next neighbor, Carroll, and then began +with the other side of the table.</p> + +<p>He liked the appearance of the boys; they +were quiet-looking and respectful, and they +had been responsive enough to his suggestion<a name="Page_34" id="Page_34"></a><span class="pagenum" title="34"></span> +about announcing their names. A happy inspiration +told him that so long as he could +keep on taking the initiative with boys, he +would have no serious trouble. But it was one +thing to recognize an effective mode of conduct, +and another to have the resourcefulness +for carrying it out. Irving was just thinking +what next he should say, when Westby fell +upon him.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Upton,”—Westby’s voice was curiously +distinct, in spite of its quietness,—“wasn’t +it funny, our taking you for a new +kid this afternoon?”</p> + +<p>Because the question was so obviously +asked in a lull to embarrass him, Irving was +embarrassed. The interest of all the boys at +the table had been skillfully excited, and +Westby leaned forward in front of Carroll, +with mischievous eyes and smile. Irving felt +his color rising; he felt both abashed and +annoyed.</p> + +<p>“Why, yes,” he said hesitatingly. “I—I +was a little startled.”</p> + +<p>“Did they take you for a new kid, Mr. Up<a name="Page_35" id="Page_35"></a><span class="pagenum" title="35"></span>ton?” +asked Blake, the Fifth Former, who +sat on Irving’s left.</p> + +<p>“For a moment, yes,” admitted Irving, +anxious not to pursue the subject.</p> + +<p>But Westby proceeded to explain with +gusto, while the whole table listened. “Lou +Collingwood and Carrie here and I were in +front of the Study, and out came Mr. Upton. +And Lou wanted to nail him for the Pythians, +so we all pranced up to him, and I said, +‘Hello, new kid; what name, please?’—just +like that; didn’t I, Mr. Upton?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Irving grudgingly. He had an +uneasy feeling that he was being made an +object of general entertainment; certainly the +eyes of all the boys at the table were fixed +upon him smilingly.</p> + +<p>“What happened then?” asked the blunt +Blake.</p> + +<p>“Why, then,” continued Westby, “Mr. +Upton told us that he wasn’t a new kid at +all, but a new master. You may imagine we +were surprised—weren’t we, Mr. Upton?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I could hardly tell—”</p> + +<p><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36"></a><span class="pagenum" title="36"></span>“The joke was certainly on us. As the +French say, it was a <em>contretemps</em>. To think +that after all the years we’d been here, we +couldn’t tell a new kid from a new master!”</p> + +<p>Irving was mildly bewildered. He could +not quite determine whether Westby was telling +the story more as a joke on himself or on +him. Anyway, in spite of the temporary embarrassment +which they had caused him, there +seemed to be nothing offensive in the remarks. +He liked Westby’s face; it was alert +and good-humored, and the cajoling quality +in the boy’s voice and the twinkle in his eyes +were quite attractive. In fact, his manner +during supper was so agreeable that Irving +quite forgot it was this youth whom he had +overheard mimicking him: “I am not a new +kid; I am a master.”</p> + +<p>After supper there were prayers in the +Common Room; then all the boys except the +Sixth Formers went to the Study building to +sit for an hour under the eyes of a master, to +read or write letters. On subsequent evenings +they would have to employ this period in<a name="Page_37" id="Page_37"></a><span class="pagenum" title="37"></span> +studying, but as yet no lessons had been +assigned; the classroom work had not begun. +The Sixth Form were exempt from the necessity +of attending Study, and had the privilege +of preparing their lessons in their own +rooms. Irving found, on going up to his +dormitory, that the boys were visiting one +another, helping one another unpack, darting +up and down the corridor and carrying on +loud conversations. He decided, as there were +no lessons for them to prepare, not to interfere; +their sociability seemed harmless enough.</p> + +<p>So, leaving the door of his room open that +he might hear and suppress any incipient +disorder, he began a letter to Lawrence. He +thought at first that he would confide to his +brother the little troubles which were annoying +him. But when he set about it, they +seemed really too petty to transcribe; surely +he was man enough to bear such worries +without appealing to a younger brother for +advice.</p> + +<p>There was a loud burst of laughter from a +room in which several boys had gathered. It<a name="Page_38" id="Page_38"></a><span class="pagenum" title="38"></span> +was followed by the remark in Westby’s +pleasant, persuasive voice,—</p> + +<p>“Look out, fellows, or we’ll have Kiddy +Upton down on us.”</p> + +<p>“Kiddy Upton!” another voice exclaimed +in delight, and there was more laughter.</p> + +<p>Kiddy Upton! So that was to be his name. +Of course boys gave nicknames to their +teachers,—Irving remembered some appellations +that had prevailed even at college. +But none of them seemed so slighting or so +jeering as this of Kiddy; and Irving flushed +as he had done when he had been taken for a +“new kid.” But now his sensitiveness was +even more hurt; it wounded him that Westby, +that pleasant, humorous person, should have +been the one to apply the epithet.</p> + +<p>Westby began singing “The Wearing of +the Green,” to an accompaniment on a banjo. +Presently four or five voices, with extravagant +brogues, were uplifted in the chorus:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“’Tis the most disthressful counthry<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That ever there was seen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For they’re hanging men and women too<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For wearin’ of the green.”<br /></span></div></div> + +<p><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39"></a><span class="pagenum" title="39"></span>There was much applause; boys from other +rooms went hurrying down the corridor. The +banjo-player struck up “The Road to Mandalay;” +again Irving recognized Westby’s +voice.</p> + +<p>Irving decided that he must not be thin-skinned; +it was his part to step up, be genial, +make himself known to all these boys who +were to be under his care, and show them that +he wished to be friendly. He did not wait to +debate with himself the wisdom of this resolve +or to consider how he should proceed; +he acted on the impulse. He walked down +the corridor to the third room on the left—the +door of Westby’s room, from which the +sounds of joviality proceeded. He knocked; +some one called “Come in;” and Irving +opened the door.</p> + +<p>Three boys sat in chairs, three sat on the +bed; Westby himself was squatting cross-legged +on the window seat, with the banjo +across his knees. They all rose politely when +Irving entered.</p> + +<p>“I thought I would drop in and make your +<a name="Page_40" id="Page_40"></a><span class="pagenum" title="40"></span>acquaintance,” said Irving. “We’re bound +to know one another some time.”</p> + +<p>“My name’s Collingwood,” said the boy +nearest him, offering his hand. He was a +healthy, light-haired, solidly put together +youth, with a genial smile. “This is Scarborough, +Mr. Upton.”</p> + +<p>The biggest of them all came forward at +that and shook hands. Irving thought that +his deep-set dark eyes were disconcertingly +direct in their gaze; and a lock of black hair +overhung his brow in a far from propitiating +manner. Yet his bearing was dignified and +manly; Irving felt that he might be trusted +to show magnanimity.</p> + +<p>“Here’s Carroll,” continued Collingwood; +and Irving said, “Oh, I know Carroll; we sat +together at supper.” Carroll said nothing, +merely smiled in an agreeable, non-committal +manner; so far it was all that Irving had +discovered he could do.</p> + +<p>“That fellow with the angel face is Morrill,” +Collingwood went on, “and the one next +to him, with the aristocratic features, is Baldersnaith,<a name="Page_41" id="Page_41"></a><span class="pagenum" title="41"></span> +and this red-head here is Dennison,—and +that’s Westby.”</p> + +<p>Irving, shaking hands round the circle, said, +“Oh, I know Westby.”</p> + +<p>“Sit down, won’t you, Mr. Upton?” Westby +pushed his armchair forward.</p> + +<p>“Thank you; don’t let me interrupt the +singing.”</p> + +<p>“Maybe you’ll join us?”</p> + +<p>Irving shook his head. “I wish I could. +But please go on.”</p> + +<p>Westby squatted again on the window-seat +and plucked undecidedly at the banjo-strings. +Then he cleared his throat and launched upon +a negro melody; he sang it with the unctuous +abandon of the darkey, and Irving listened +and looked on enviously, admiring the display +of talent. Westby sang another song, and then +turned and pushed up the window.</p> + +<p>“Awfully hot for this time of year, isn’t +it?” he said. “Fine moonlight night; wouldn’t +it be great to go for a swim?”</p> + +<p>“Um!” said Morrill, appreciatively.</p> + +<p>“Will you let us go, Mr. Upton?” Westby<a name="Page_42" id="Page_42"></a><span class="pagenum" title="42"></span> +asked the question pleadingly. “Won’t you +please let us go? It’s such a fine warm moonlight +night—and it isn’t as if school had +really begun, you know.”</p> + +<p>“But I think the rules don’t permit your +being out at this time of night, do they?” +said Irving.</p> + +<p>“Well, but as I say, school hasn’t really +begun yet. And besides, Scabby here is almost +as good as a master—and so is Lou Collingwood; +I’m the only really irresponsible one +in the bunch—”</p> + +<p>“Where do you go to swim?”</p> + +<p>“In the pond, just beyond the isthmus—only +about a quarter of a mile from here. +Come on, fellows, Mr. Upton’s going to let +us go.”</p> + +<p>Irving laughed uneasily. “Oh, I didn’t say +that. If Mr. Randolph is willing that you +should go, I wouldn’t object.”</p> + +<p>“You’re in charge of this dormitory,” argued +Westby. “And if you gave us permission, +Mr. Randolph wouldn’t say anything.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t feel that I can make an exception +to the rules,” said Irving.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43"></a><span class="pagenum" title="43"></span>“But school hasn’t really begun yet,” persisted +Westby.</p> + +<p>“I think it really has, so far as observing +the rules is concerned,” replied Irving.</p> + +<p>“You might go with us, sir—and that +would make it all right.”</p> + +<p>“But I don’t believe I want to go in swimming +this evening.”</p> + +<p>“I’m awfully afraid you’re going to be +just like granite, Mr. Upton,” sighed Westby,—“the +man with the iron jaw.” He turned +on the others a humorous look; they all were +smiling. Irving felt uncomfortable again, suspecting +that Westby was making game of him, +yet not knowing in what way to meet it—except +by silence.</p> + +<p>“I’ll tell you what I will do with you to-morrow, +Wes,” said Collingwood. “I’ll challenge +you to that water duel that we were to +have pulled off last June.”</p> + +<p>“All right, Lou,” said Westby. “Carrie +here will be my trusty squire and will paddle +my canoe.”</p> + +<p>Carroll grinned his assent.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44"></a><span class="pagenum" title="44"></span>“I’ll pick Ned Morrill for my second,” +said Collingwood. “And Scabby can be referee.”</p> + +<p>“What’s a water duel?” asked Irving.</p> + +<p>“They go out in canoes, two in each canoe,” +answered Scarborough. “One fellow +paddles, and the other stands up in the bow +with a long pole and a big fat sponge tied to +the end of it. Then the two canoes manœuvre, +and try to get within striking distance, and +the fellow or canoe that gets upset first loses. +We had a tournament last spring, and these +two pairs came through to the finals, but never +fought it out—baseball or tennis or something +always interfered.”</p> + +<p>“It must be quite an amusing game,” said +Irving.</p> + +<p>“Come up to the swimming hole to-morrow +afternoon if you want to see it,” said Collingwood, +hospitably. “I’ll just about drown +Westby. It will be a good show.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you; I’d like to—”</p> + +<p>“But don’t you think, Mr. Upton,”—again +it was Westby, with his cajoling voice and his<a name="Page_45" id="Page_45"></a><span class="pagenum" title="45"></span> +wheedling smile,—“that I might have just +one evening’s moonlight practice for it?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I don’t believe you need any practice.”</p> + +<p>“But you said I might if Mr. Randolph +would consent. I don’t see why you shouldn’t +be independent, as well as liberal.”</p> + +<p>There was a veiled insinuation in this, for +all the good-natured, teasing tone, and Irving +did not like it.</p> + +<p>“No,” he said. “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid +I can’t let you go swimming to-night.—I’m +glad to have met you all.” And so he took +his departure, and presently the sound of +banjo and singing rose again from Westby’s +room.</p> + +<p>Irving proceeded to visit the other rooms of +the dormitory and to make the acquaintance +of the occupants—boys engaged mostly in +arranging bureau drawers or hanging pictures. +They were all friendly enough; it +seemed to him that he could get on with boys +individually; it was when they faced him in +numbers that they alarmed him and caused<a name="Page_46" id="Page_46"></a><span class="pagenum" title="46"></span> +his manner to be hesitating and embarrassed. +One big fellow named Allison was trying to +hang a picture when Irving entered; it was a +large and heavy picture, and Irving held it +straight while Allison stood on a chair and set +the hook on the moulding. Allison thanked +Irving with the gratitude of one unaccustomed +to receiving such consideration; indeed, his +uncouthness and unkemptness made him one +of those unfortunate boys who suffered now +and then from persecution. Irving learned afterwards +that the crowd he had met in Westby’s +room hung together and were the leaders +not merely in the affairs of the dormitory, but +of the school.</p> + +<p>At half past nine the big bell on the Study +building rang twice—the signal for the boys +to go to their respective rooms. Irving had +been informed of the little ceremony which +was the custom; he stepped out in front of his +door at the end of the corridor, and one after +another the boys came up, shook hands with +him, and bade him good-night. Westby came +to him with the engaging and yet somewhat<a name="Page_47" id="Page_47"></a><span class="pagenum" title="47"></span> +disquieting smile which recalled to Irving Mr. +Wythe’s words, “He smiles and smiles, but +is a villain still.” It was a smile which seemed +to suggest the discernment and enjoyment of +all one’s weak spots.</p> + +<p>“<em>Good</em>-night, Mr. Upton,” said Westby, +and his voice was excessively urbane. It made +Irving look forward to a better acquaintance +with both expectancy and apprehension.</p> + +<p>The first morning of actual school work +went well enough; Irving met his classes, +which were altogether in mathematics, assigned +them lessons, and managed to keep +them and himself busy. From one of them he +brought away some algebra exercises, which +he spent part of the afternoon in correcting. +When he had finished this work, the invitation +to witness the water duel occurred to his mind.</p> + +<p>He found no other master to bear him company, +so he set off by himself through the +woods which bordered the pond behind the +Gymnasium. He came at last to the “isthmus”—a +narrow dyke of stones which cut off a +long inlet and bridged the way over to a<a name="Page_48" id="Page_48"></a><span class="pagenum" title="48"></span> +wooded peninsula that jutted out into the +pond. On the farther side of this peninsula, +secluded behind trees and bushes, was the +swimming hole.</p> + +<p>As Irving approached, he heard voices; he +drew nearer and saw the bare backs of boys +undressing and heard then the defiances +which they were hurling at one another—phrased +in the language of Ivanhoe.</p> + +<p>“Nay, by my halidome, but I shall this day +do my devoir right worthily upon the body of +yon false knight,” quoth Westby, as he carefully +turned his shirt right side out.</p> + +<p>“A murrain on thee! Beshrew me if I do +not spit thee upon my trusty lance,” replied +Collingwood, as he drew on his swimming +tights.</p> + +<p>Then some one trotted out upon the spring-board, +gave a bounce and a leap, and went +into the water with a splash.</p> + +<p>“How is it, Ned?” called Westby; and +Irving came up as Morrill, reaching out for a +long side stroke, shouted, “Oh, fine—warm +and fine.”</p> + +<p><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49"></a><span class="pagenum" title="49"></span>“Hello, Mr. Upton.” It was Baldersnaith +who first saw him; Baldersnaith, Dennison, +and Smythe were fully dressed and were sitting +under a tree looking on.</p> + +<p>“You’re just in time,” said Collingwood.</p> + +<p>Scarborough, stripped like Westby and +Carroll and Morrill and Collingwood, was out +on the pond, paddling round in a canoe. He +was crouched on one knee in the middle, and +the canoe careened over with his weight, so +that the gunwale was only an inch or two +above the surface. He was evidently an expert +paddler, swinging the craft round, this +way and that, without ever taking the paddle +out of the water.</p> + +<p>Two other canoes were hauled up near the +spring-board; Carroll was bending over one of +them.</p> + +<p>“Bring me my lethal weapon, Carrie,” +Westby commanded. “I want to show Mr. +Upton.—Is the button on tight?”</p> + +<p>Carroll produced from the canoe a long +pole with an enormous sponge fastened to one +end; he pulled at the sponge and announced,<a name="Page_50" id="Page_50"></a><span class="pagenum" title="50"></span> +“Yes, the button’s on tight,” and passed the +pole over to Westby.</p> + +<p>Westby made one or two experimental +lunges with it and remarked musingly, “When +I catch him square above the bread line with +this—!”</p> + +<p>“Come on, then!” said Collingwood. “Come +here, Ned!”</p> + +<p>Morrill swam ashore and pushed off in one +of the canoes with Collingwood—taking the +stern seat and the paddle. Collingwood knelt +in the bow, with his spear laid across the gun-wales +in front of him. In like manner Westby +and Carroll took to the water.</p> + +<p>“This is the best two bouts out of three,” +called Scarborough, as he circled round. +“Don’t you want to come aboard, Mr. Upton, +and help judge?”</p> + +<p>“Why, yes, thank you,” said Irving.</p> + +<p>So Scarborough called, “Wait a moment, +fellows,” and paddling ashore, took on his +passenger. Then he sped out to the middle of +the bay; the two other canoes were separated +by about fifty feet.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51"></a><span class="pagenum" title="51"></span>“Charge!” cried Scarborough, and Morrill +and Carroll began paddling towards each other, +while in the bows Collingwood and Westby +rose to their feet and held their spears in +front of them. They advanced cautiously and +then swung apart, evading the collision—each +trying to tempt the other to stab and overreach.</p> + +<p>“Oh, you’re both scared!” jeered Baldersnaith +from the shore.</p> + +<p>The canoes swung about and made for each +other again; and this time passed within striking +distance. Westby’s aim missed, his sponge-tipped +lance slid past Collingwood’s shoulder, +and the next instant Collingwood’s sponge—well +weighted with water—smote Westby full +in the chest and hove him overboard. For one +moment Carroll struggled to keep the canoe +right side up, but in vain; it tipped and filled, +and with a shout he plunged in head foremost +after his comrade.</p> + +<p>They came up and began to push their +canoe ashore; the two other canoes drew alongside +and assisted, Scarborough and Morrill<a name="Page_52" id="Page_52"></a><span class="pagenum" title="52"></span> +paddling, while Irving and Collingwood laid +hold of the thwarts.</p> + +<p>“That’s all right; I’ll get you this time,” +spluttered Westby. “We’re going to use +strategy now.”</p> + +<p>They emptied the water out of the canoe +and proceeded again to the battleground. Then, +when Scarborough gave the word, Carroll +began paddling madly; he and Westby bore +down upon their antagonists at a most threatening +speed. Morrill swung to the right to get +out of their path; and then suddenly Carroll +swung in the opposite direction—with what +strategic purpose neither Irving nor Scarborough +had time to conjecture. For they were +loitering close on that side, not expecting any +such manœuvre; the sharp turn drove the bow +of Carroll’s canoe straight for the waist of +Scarborough’s, and Westby with an excited +laugh undertook to fend off with his pole, lost +his balance, and trying to recover it, upset +both canoes together.</p> + +<p>Irving felt himself going, heard Westby’s +laughing shout, “Look out, Mr. Upton!” and +then went under.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 431px;"><a name="Page_52f" id="Page_52f"></a><span class="pagenum" title="Facing 52"></span> +<img src="images/052.jpg" width="431" height="631" alt="[Illustration: THE CANOES SWUNG ABOUT AND MADE FOR EACH OTHER]" title="THE CANOES SWUNG ABOUT AND MADE FOR EACH OTHER" /> +<span>THE CANOES SWUNG ABOUT AND MADE FOR EACH OTHER</span> +</div> + + + +<hr /> +<div><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a><span class="toclnk"><a href="#CONTENTS">TOC</a></span></div> +<h2><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53"></a><span class="pagenum" title="53"></span>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h3>WESTBY’S AMUSEMENTS</h3> + + +<p>The water was warm, but Irving swallowed +a good deal of it and also was conscious +of the fact that he had on a perfectly good +suit of clothes. So he came to the surface, +choking and annoyed; and when he recovered +his faculties, he observed first of all Westby’s +grinning face.</p> + +<p>“You can swim all right, can’t you, Mr. +Upton?” said Westby. “I thought for a moment +we might have to dive for you.”</p> + +<p>Irving clutched at the stern of the capsized +canoe and said, rather curtly, “I’m not +dressed to enjoy swimming.”</p> + +<p>“I’m awfully sorry,” said Scarborough. +“But I never thought they were going to turn +that way; I don’t know what Carrie thought +he was doing—”</p> + +<p>“I’d have shown you some strategy if +<a name="Page_54" id="Page_54"></a><span class="pagenum" title="54"></span>you hadn’t blundered into us,” declared +Carroll.</p> + +<p>“Blundered into you! There was no need +for Wes to give us such a poke, anyhow.”</p> + +<p>Westby replied merely with an irritating +chuckle—irritating at least to Irving, who felt +that he should be showing more contrition.</p> + +<p>Collingwood and Morrill came alongside, +both laughing, jeering at Westby and offering +polite expressions of solicitude to the master. +They told him to lay hold of the tail of their +canoe, and then they towed him ashore as rapidly +as possible. When he drew himself up, +dripping, on the bank, Baldersnaith, Dennison, +and Smythe were all on the broad grin, and +from the water floated the sound of Westby’s +merriment.</p> + +<p>Irving stood for a moment, letting himself +drip, quite undecided as to what he should do. +He had never been ducked before, with all his +clothes on; the clammy, weighted sensation +was most unpleasant, the thought of his damaged +and perhaps ruined suit was galling, the +indignity of his appearance was particularly<a name="Page_55" id="Page_55"></a><span class="pagenum" title="55"></span> +hard to bear. He felt that Baldersnaith and +the others were trying to be as polite and +considerate as possible, and yet they could not +refrain from exhibiting their amusement, their +delight.</p> + +<p>Scarborough, who had swum ahead of the +others, waded ashore and looked him over. “I +tell you what you’d better do, Mr. Upton,” he +said. “You’d better take your clothes off, +wring them out, and spread them out to dry. +They’ll dry in this sun and wind. And while +they’re doing that, you can come in swimming +with us.”</p> + +<p>Irving hesitated a moment; instinct told him +that the advice was sensible, yet he shrank from +accepting it; he felt that for a master to do +what Scarborough suggested would be undignified, +and might somehow compromise his +position. “I think I’d better run home and +rub myself down and put on some dry things,” +he replied.</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Scarborough, “just as you +say. Sorry I got you into this mess.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, it’s all right,” said Irving.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56"></a><span class="pagenum" title="56"></span>He walked away, with the water trickling +uncomfortably down him inside his clothes +and swashing juicily in his shoes. He liked +Scarborough for the way he had acted, but he +felt less kindly towards Westby. He was by no +means sure that Westby had not deliberately +soused him and then pretended it was an accident. +He remembered Westby’s mirthful laugh +just when the thing was happening; and certainly +if it had really been an accident Westby +had shown very little concern. He had been +indecently amused; he was so still; his clear +joyous laugh was ringing after Irving even +now, and Irving felt angrily that he was at +this moment a ridiculous figure. To be running +home drenched!—probably it would +have been better if he had done what Scarborough +had suggested, less undignified, more +manly really. But he couldn’t turn back +now.</p> + +<p>He was cold and his teeth had begun to +chatter, so he started to run. He hoped that +when he came out of the woods he might be +fortunate enough to elude observation on the<a name="Page_57" id="Page_57"></a><span class="pagenum" title="57"></span> +way to the Upper School, but in this he was +disappointed. As he jogged by the Study +building, with his clothes jouncing and slapping +heavily upon his shoulders, out came the +rector and met him face to face.</p> + +<p>“Upset canoeing?” asked the rector with a +smile.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” Irving answered; he stood for a moment +awkwardly.</p> + +<p>“Well, it will happen sometimes,” said the +rector. “Don’t catch cold.” And he passed +on.</p> + +<p>There was some consolation for Irving in +this matter-of-fact view. In the rector’s eyes +apparently his dignity had not suffered by the +incident. But when a moment later he passed +a group of Fourth Formers and they turned +and stared at him, grinning, he felt that his +dignity had suffered very much. He felt that +within a short time his misfortune would be +the talk of the school.</p> + +<p>At supper it was as he expected it would +be. Westby set about airing the story for the +benefit of the table, appealing now and then to<a name="Page_58" id="Page_58"></a><span class="pagenum" title="58"></span> +Irving himself for confirmation of the passages +which were least gratifying to Irving’s vanity. +“You <em>did</em> look so woe-begone when you stood +up on shore, Mr. Upton,” was the genial statement +which Irving especially resented. To +have Westby tell the boys the first day how he +had called the new master a new kid and the +second day how he had ducked him was a little +too much; it seemed to Irving that Westby +was slyly amusing himself by undermining his +authority. But the boy’s manner was pleasantly +ingratiating always; Irving felt baffled. Carroll +did not help him much towards an interpretation; +Carroll sat by self-contained, +quietly intelligent, amused. Irving liked both +the boys, and yet as the days passed, he seemed +to grow more and more uneasy and anxious in +their society.</p> + +<p>In the classroom he was holding his own; +he was a good mathematical scholar, he prepared +the lessons thoroughly, and he found +it generally easy to keep order by assigning +problems to be worked out in class. The +weather continued good, so that during play<a name="Page_59" id="Page_59"></a><span class="pagenum" title="59"></span> +time the fellows were out of doors instead of +loafing round in dormitory. They all had their +own little affairs to organize; athletic clubs +and literary societies held their first meetings; +there was a process of general shaking down; +and in the interest and industry occasioned by +all this, there was not much opportunity or +disposition to make trouble.</p> + +<p>But the first Sunday was a bad day. In a +boys’ school bad weather is apt to be accompanied +by bad behavior; on this Sunday it +poured. The boys, having put on their best +clothes, were obliged, when they went out to +chapel, to wear rubbers and to carry umbrellas—an +imposition against which they rebelled. +After chapel, there was an hour before dinner, +and in that hour most of the Sixth Formers +sought their rooms—or sought one another’s +rooms; it seemed to Irving, who was trying to +read and who had a headache, that there was +a needless amount of rushing up and down the +corridors and of slamming of doors. By and +by the tumult became uproarious, shouts of +laughter and the sound of heavy bodies being<a name="Page_60" id="Page_60"></a><span class="pagenum" title="60"></span> +flung against walls reached his ears; he emerged +then and saw the confusion at the end of the +corridor. Allison was suspended two or three +feet above the floor, by a rope knotted under +his arms; it was the rope that was used for +raising trunks up to the loft above. In lowering +it from the loft some one had trespassed +on forbidden ground. Westby, Collingwood, +Dennison, Scarborough, and half a dozen +others were gathered, enjoying Allison’s ludicrous +struggles. His plight was not painful, +only absurd; and Irving himself could not at +first keep back a smile. But he came forward +and said,—</p> + +<p>“Oh, look here, fellows, whoever is responsible +for this will have to climb up and release +Allison.”</p> + +<p>Westby turned with his engaging smile.</p> + +<p>“Yes, but, Mr. Upton, who do you suppose +is responsible? I don’t see how we can fix the +responsibility, do you?”</p> + +<p>“I will undertake to fix it,” said Irving. +“Westby, suppose you climb that ladder and +let Allison down.”</p> + +<p><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61"></a><span class="pagenum" title="61"></span>“I don’t think you’re approaching this +matter in quite a judicial spirit, Mr. Upton,” +said Westby. “Of course no man wants to be +arbitrary; he wants to be just. It really seems +to me, Mr. Upton, that no action should be +taken until the matter has been more thoroughly +sifted.”</p> + +<p>The other boys, with the exception of Allison, +were chuckling at this glib persuasiveness. +Westby stood there, in a calmly respectful, +even deferential attitude, as if animated only +by a desire to serve the truth.</p> + +<p>“We will have no argument about it, +Westby,” said Irving. “Please climb the ladder +at once and release Allison.”</p> + +<p>“I beg of you, Mr. Upton,” said Westby +in a tone of distress, “don’t, please don’t, +confuse argument with impartial inquiry; +nothing is more distasteful to me than argument. +I merely ask for investigation; I court +it in your own interest as well as mine.”</p> + +<p>Irving grew rigid. His head was throbbing +painfully; the continued snickering all round +him and Westby’s increasing confidence and<a name="Page_62" id="Page_62"></a><span class="pagenum" title="62"></span> +fluency grated on his nerves. He drew out his +watch.</p> + +<p>“I will give you one minute in which to +climb that ladder,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Upton, you wish to be a just man,” +pleaded Westby. “Even though you have the +great weight of authority—and years”—Westby +choked a laugh—“behind you, don’t +do an unjust and arbitrary thing. Allison himself +wouldn’t have you—would you, Allison?”</p> + +<p>The victim grinned uncomfortably.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Upton,” urged Westby, “you +wouldn’t have me soil these hands?” He displayed +his laudably clean, pink fingers. “Of +course, if I go up there I shall get my hands +all dirty—and equally of course if I had been +up there, they would be all dirty now. Surely +you believe in the value of circumstantial +evidence; therefore, before we fix the responsibility, +let us search for the dirty pair of hands.”</p> + +<p>“Time is up,” said Irving, closing his watch.</p> + +<p>“But what is time when justice trembles in +the balance?” argued Westby. “When the<a name="Page_63" id="Page_63"></a><span class="pagenum" title="63"></span> +innocent is in danger of being punished for +the guilty, when—”</p> + +<p>“Westby, please climb that ladder at once.”</p> + +<p>“So young and so inexorable!” murmured +Westby, setting his foot upon the ladder.</p> + +<p>Irving’s face was red; the tittering of the +audience was making him angry. He held his +eyes on Westby, who made a slow, grunting +progress up three rungs and then stopped.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Upton, Mr. Upton, sir!” Westby’s +voice was ingratiating. “Mayn’t Allison sing +for us, sir?”</p> + +<p>Allison grinned again foolishly and sent a +sprawling foot out towards his persecutor; the +others laughed.</p> + +<p>“Keep on climbing,” said Irving.</p> + +<p>Westby resumed his toilsome way, and as he +moved he kept murmuring remarks to Allison, +to the others, to Irving himself, half audible, +rapid, in an aggrieved tone.</p> + +<p>“Don’t see why you want to be conspicuous +this way, Allison.—Won’t sing—amuse anybody—ornamental, +I suppose—good timekeeper +though—almost hear you tick. Mr.<a name="Page_64" id="Page_64"></a><span class="pagenum" title="64"></span> +Upton—setting watch by you now—awfully +severe kind of man—”</p> + +<p>So mumbling, with the responsive titter still +continuing below and Irving standing there +stern and red, Westby disappeared into the +loft. There was a moment’s silence, then a +sudden clicking of a ratchet wheel, and Allison +began to rise rapidly towards the ceiling.</p> + +<p>“A-ay!” cried Allison in amazement.</p> + +<p>The boys burst out in delighted laughter.</p> + +<p>“Westby! Westby! Stop that!” Irving’s +voice was shrill with anger.</p> + +<p>Allison became stationary once more, and +Westby displayed an innocent, surprised face +at the loft opening.</p> + +<p>“If there is any more nonsense in letting +Allison down, I shall really have to report +you.” Irving’s voice rose tremulously to a high +key; he was trying hard to control it.</p> + +<p>Westby gazed down with surprise. “Why, +I guess I must have turned the crank the +wrong way, don’t you suppose I did, Mr. +Upton?—Don’t worry, Allison, old man;<a name="Page_65" id="Page_65"></a><span class="pagenum" title="65"></span> +I’ll rescue you, never fear. I’ll try to lower +you gently, so that you won’t get hurt; you’ll +call out if you find you’re coming down too +fast, won’t you?”</p> + +<p>He withdrew his head, and presently the +ratchet wheel clicked and slowly, very slowly, +Allison began to descend. When his feet were +a couple of inches from the floor, the descent +stopped.</p> + +<p>“All right now?” called Westby from +above.</p> + +<p>“No!” bawled Allison.</p> + +<p>“Ve-ry gently then, ve-ry gently,” replied +Westby; and Allison, reaching for the floor +with his toes, had at last the satisfaction of +feeling it. He wriggled out of the noose and +smoothed out his rumpled coat.</p> + +<p>“Saved!” exclaimed Westby, peering down +from the opening, and then he added sorrowfully, +“Saved, and no word of gratitude to his +rescuer!”</p> + +<p>“Now, boys, don’t stand round here any +longer; we’ve had enough nonsense; go to +your rooms,” said Irving.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66"></a><span class="pagenum" title="66"></span>“Mr. Upton, Mr. Upton, Mr. Upton, sir!” +clamored Westby, and the boys lingered.</p> + +<p>Irving looked up in exasperation. “What +is it now?”</p> + +<p>“May I come down, please, sir?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, sir.”</p> + +<p>Carefully Westby descended the ladder, +mumbling all the time sentences of which the +lingerers caught fragmentary scraps: “Horrible +experience that of Allison’s—dreadful +situation to have been in—so fortunate that +I was at hand—the man who dares—reckless +courage, ready resource—home again!” He +dropped to the floor, and raising his hand to +his forehead, saluted Irving.</p> + +<p>“Come, move on, all you fellows,” said +Irving; the others were still hanging about +and laughing; “move on, move on! Carroll, +you and Westby take that ladder down and +put it back where you got it.”</p> + +<p>He stayed to see that the order was carried +out; then he returned to his room. He felt +that though he had conquered in this instance,<a name="Page_67" id="Page_67"></a><span class="pagenum" title="67"></span> +he had adopted the wrong tone, and that he +must offer something else than peevishness +and irritation to ward off Westby’s humor; +already it gave indications of becoming too +audacious. Yet on the whole Irving was +pleased because he had at least asserted himself—and +had rather enjoyed doing it. And +an hour later it seemed to him that he had +lost all that he had gained.</p> + +<p>Roast beef was the unvarying dish at Sunday +dinner; a large and fragrant sirloin was +set before the head of each table to be carved. +Irving took up the carving knife and fork +with some misgivings. Hitherto he had had +nothing more difficult to deal with than steaks +or chops or croquettes or stews; and carving +was an art that he had never learned; confronted +by the necessity, he was amazed to +find that he had so little idea of how to proceed. +The first three slices came off readily +enough, though they were somewhat ragged, +and Irving was aware that Westby was surveying +his operations with a critical interest. +The knife seemed to grow more dull, the meat<a name="Page_68" id="Page_68"></a><span class="pagenum" title="68"></span> +more wobbly, more tough, the bone got more +and more in the way; the maid who was passing +the vegetables was waiting, all the boys +except the three who had been helped first +were waiting, coldly critical, anxiously apprehensive; +silence at this table had begun to +reign.</p> + +<p>Irving felt himself blushing and muttered, +“This knife’s awfully dull,” as he sawed +away. At last he hacked off an unsightly slab +and passed it to Westby, whose turn it was +and who wrinkled his nose at it in disfavor.</p> + +<p>“Please have this knife sharpened,” Irving +said to the maid. She put down the potatoes +and the corn, and departed with the instrument +to the kitchen.</p> + +<p>Irving glanced at the other tables; everybody +seemed to have been served, everybody +was eating; Scarborough, who was in charge +of the next table, had entirely demolished his +roast.</p> + +<p>“I’m sorry to keep you fellows waiting,” +Irving said, “but that’s the dullest knife I +ever handled.”</p> + +<p><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69"></a><span class="pagenum" title="69"></span>He addressed the remark to the totally unprovided +side of his table; he turned his head +just in time to catch Westby’s humorous mouth +and droll droop of an eyelid. The other boys +smiled, and Irving’s cheeks grew more hot.</p> + +<p>“You’ll excuse me, Mr. Upton, if I don’t +wait, won’t you?” said Westby. “Don’t get +impatient, fellows.”</p> + +<p>The maid returned with the carving knife; +Westby paused in his eating to observe. Irving +made another unsuccessful effort; the +meat quivered and shook and slid under his +attack, and the knife slipped and clashed +down upon the platter.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps if you would stand up to it, sir, +you would do better,” suggested Westby, in +an insidious voice. “Nobody else does, but if +it would be easier—”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, but the suggestion is unnecessary,” +Irving retorted. He added to the +other boys, while he struggled, “It’s the +meat, I guess, not the knife, after all—”</p> + +<p>“Why, I shouldn’t say it was the meat,” interposed +Westby. “The meat’s quite tender.”</p> + +<p><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70"></a><span class="pagenum" title="70"></span>Irving glanced at him in silent fury, clamped +his lips together, and went on sawing. He +finally was able to hand to Carroll a plate on +which reposed a mussy-looking heap of beef. +Carroll wrinkled his nose over it as Westby +had done.</p> + +<p>“If I might venture to suggest, sir,” said +Westby politely, “you could send it out and +have it carved in the kitchen.”</p> + +<p>Irving surrendered; he looked up and said +to the maid,—</p> + +<p>“Please take this out and have it carved +outside.”</p> + +<p>He felt that he could almost cry from the +humiliation, but instead he tried to assume +cheerfulness and dignity.</p> + +<p>“I’m sorry,” he said, “to have to keep you +fellows waiting; we’ll try to arrange things so +that it won’t happen again.”</p> + +<p>The boys accepted the apology in gloomy +silence. At Scarborough’s table their plight +was exciting comment; Irving was aware of +the curious glances which had been occasioned +by the withdrawal of the roast. It seemed to<a name="Page_71" id="Page_71"></a><span class="pagenum" title="71"></span> +him that he was publicly disgraced; there was +a peculiar ignominy in sitting at the head of a +table and being unable to perform the simplest +duty of host. Worst of all, in the encounter +with Westby he had lost ground.</p> + +<p>The meat was brought on again, sliced in a +manner which could not conceal the unskillfulness +of the original attack.</p> + +<p>“Stone cold!” exclaimed Blake, the first +boy to test it.</p> + +<p>Irving’s temper flew up. “Don’t be childish,” +he said. “And don’t make any more +comments about this matter. It’s of no importance—and +cold roast beef is just as good +for you as hot.”</p> + +<p>“If not a great deal better,” added Westby +with an urbanity that set every one snickering.</p> + +<p>After dinner Irving was again on duty for +two hours in the dormitory, until the time for +afternoon chapel. During part of this period +the boys were expected to be in their rooms, +preparing the Bible lesson which had to be +recited after chapel to the rector. Irving made<a name="Page_72" id="Page_72"></a><span class="pagenum" title="72"></span> +the rounds and saw that each boy was in his +proper quarters, then went to his own room. +For an hour he enjoyed quiet. Then the bell +rang announcing that the study period was at +an end. Instantly there was a commotion in +the corridors—legitimate enough; but soon +it centred in the north wing and grew more +and more clamorous, more and more mirthful.</p> + +<p>With a sigh Irving went forth to quell it. +He determined that whatever happened he +would not this time lose his temper; he would +try to be persuasive and yet firm.</p> + +<p>The noise was in Allison’s room; the unfortunate +Allison was again being persecuted. +Loud whoops of laughter and the sound of +vigorous scuffling, of tumbling chairs and +pounding feet, came to Irving’s ears. The +door to Allison’s room was wide open; Irving +stood and looked upon a pile of bodies heaped +on the bed, with struggling arms and legs; +even in that moment the foot of the iron bedstead +collapsed, and the pile rolled off upon +the floor. There were Morrill and Carroll and<a name="Page_73" id="Page_73"></a><span class="pagenum" title="73"></span> +Westby and Dennison and at the bottom Allison—all +looking very much rumpled, very +red.</p> + +<p>“Oh, come, fellows!” said Irving in what he +intended to make an appealing voice. “Less +noise, less noise—or I shall really have to report +you—I shall really!”</p> + +<p>But he did not speak with any confidence; +his manner was hesitating, almost deprecating. +The boys grinned at him and then sauntered, +rather indifferently, out of the room.</p> + +<p>There was no more disorder that day. But +some hours later, when Irving came up to the +dormitory before supper, he heard laughter in +the west wing, where Collingwood and Westby +and Scarborough had their rooms. Then he +heard Westby’s voice, raised in an effeminate, +pleading tone: “Less noise, fellows, less noise—or +I shall have to report you—I shall +really!”</p> + +<p>There was more laughter at the mimicry, +and Irving heard Collingwood ask,</p> + +<p>“Where did you get that, Wes?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, from Kiddy—this afternoon.”</p> + +<p><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74"></a><span class="pagenum" title="74"></span>“Poor Kiddy! He seemed to be having an +awful time at noon over that roast beef.”</p> + +<p>“He’s such a dodo—he’s more fun than +a goat. I can put him up in the air whenever I +want to,” boasted Westby. “He’s the easiest +to get rattled I ever saw. I’m going to play +horse with him in class to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>“How?” asked Collingwood; and Irving +basely pricked up his ears.</p> + +<p>“Oh, you’ll see.”</p> + +<p>Irving closed the door of his room quietly. +“We’ll see, will we?” he muttered, pacing +back and forth. “Yes, I guess some one will +see.”</p> + + + +<hr /> +<div><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a><span class="toclnk"><a href="#CONTENTS">TOC</a></span></div> +<h2><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75"></a><span class="pagenum" title="75"></span>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h3>THE BAITING OF A MASTER</h3> + + +<p>The room in which the Sixth Form assembled +for the lesson in Geometry was +on the top floor of the Study building; the +windows overlooked the pond behind the Gymnasium. +The teacher’s desk was on a platform +in the corner; a blackboard extended along +two walls; and there were steps beneath the +blackboard on which the students stood to +make their demonstrations.</p> + +<p>Irving arrived a minute before the hour and +found his class already assembled—a suspicious +circumstance. There was, too, he felt, +an air of subdued, joyous expectancy. He took +his seat and, adjusting his spectacles, peered +round the room; his eyesight was very bad, +and he had, moreover, like so many bookworms, +never trained his faculty of observation.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76"></a><span class="pagenum" title="76"></span>He read the roll of the class; every boy +was there.</p> + +<p>“Scarborough, you may go to the blackboard +and demonstrate the Fifth Theorem; +Dennison, you the Sixth; Westby, you the +Eighth. The rest of you will solve at your +seats this problem.”</p> + +<p>He mounted to the blackboard himself and +wrote out the question. While he had his back +turned, he heard some whispering; he looked +over his shoulder. Westby was lingering in +his seat and had obviously been holding +communication with his neighbor.</p> + +<p>“Westby,”—Irving’s voice was sharp,—“were +you trying to get help at the last moment?”</p> + +<p>“I was not.” Westby’s answer was prompt.</p> + +<p>“Then don’t delay any longer, please; go +to the blackboard at once.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>Westby moved to the blackboard on the side +of the room—the one at right angles to that +on which Irving and Scarborough were at +work.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77"></a><span class="pagenum" title="77"></span>Irving finished his writing, dusted the chalk +from his fingers, and returned to his seat. The +boys before him were now bent industriously +over their tablets; Scarborough, Westby, and +Dennison were drawing figures on the blackboard, +using the long pointers for rulers and +making beautiful circles by means of chalk attached +to pieces of string. A glance at Westby +showed that youth apparently intent upon +solving the problem assigned him and at work +upon it intelligently. Irving began to feel +serene; he proceeded to correct the algebra +exercises of the Fourth Form, which he had +received the hour before.</p> + +<p>A sudden titter from some one down in front, +hastily suppressed and transformed into a +cough, caused him to look up. Morrill, with +his mouth hidden behind his hand, was glancing +off toward Westby, and Irving followed +the direction of the glance.</p> + +<p>Westby had completed his geometrical figures +and was now engaged in labeling them +with letters. But instead of employing the +usual geometrical symbols A, B, C, and so on,<a name="Page_78" id="Page_78"></a><span class="pagenum" title="78"></span> +he was skipping about through the alphabet, +and Irving immediately perceived that he was +not choosing letters at random. Irving observed +that the initials of his own name, I, C, U, +formed, as it were, the corner-stone of the +geometrical edifice.</p> + +<p>At that moment Westby coughed—an unnatural +cough. And instantly a miracle happened; +every single wooden eraser—there +were half a dozen of them—leaped from its +place on the shelf beneath the blackboard and +tumbled clattering down the steps to the floor. +At the same instant Westby flung up both +arms, tottered on the topmost step, and succeeded +in regaining his poise with apparently +great difficulty.</p> + +<p>The class giggled.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Upton, sir! Mr. Upton, sir!” cried +Westby excitedly. “Did you feel the earthquake? +It was very noticeable on this side of +the room. Do you think it’s safe for us to stay +indoors, sir? There may be another shock!”</p> + +<p>“Westby,” Irving’s voice had a nervous +thrill that for the moment quieted the laugh<a name="Page_79" id="Page_79"></a><span class="pagenum" title="79"></span>ter, +“did you cause those erasers to be pulled +down?”</p> + +<p>“Did I cause them to be pulled down? I +don’t understand, sir. How could I, sir? Six +of them all at once!”</p> + +<p>“Bring me one of those erasers, please.”</p> + +<p>Westby stooped; there was a sound of snapping +string. Then he came forward and presented +the eraser.</p> + +<p>“You tied string to all these erasers, did +you?” Irving examined the fragment that +still clung to the object. “And then arranged +to have them pulled down?”</p> + +<p>“You see how short that string is, sir; nobody +could have reached it to pull it. Didn’t +you feel the earthquake, sir? Didn’t you see +how it almost threw me off my feet? Really, +I don’t believe it’s quite safe to stay here—”</p> + +<p>“You may be right; I shouldn’t wonder +at all if there was a second shock coming +to you soon,” said Irving, and the subdued +chuckle that went round the class told him he +had scored. “You may now demonstrate to +the class the Theorem assigned you.”</p> + +<p><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80"></a><span class="pagenum" title="80"></span>“Yes, sir.” Westby turned and took up the +pointer.</p> + +<p>“We have here,” he began, “the two triangles +I C U and J A Y—with the angle I C U +of the one equal to the angle J A Y of the +other.” The class tittered; Westby went on +glibly, bending the lath-like pointer between +his hands: “Let us now erect the angle K I D, +equal to the angle I C U; then the angle K I D +will also be equal to the angle J A Y—things +equal to the same thing are equal to each other.”</p> + +<p>Westby stopped to turn a surprised, questioning +look upon the snickering class.</p> + +<p>“Yes, that will do for that demonstration,” +said Irving. He rose from his seat; his lips +were trembling, and the laughter of the class +ceased. “You may leave the room—for your +insolence—at once!”</p> + +<p>He had meant to be dignified and calm, but +his anger had rushed to the surface, and his +words came in a voice that suggested he was +on the verge of tears.</p> + +<p>“I beg your pardon, sir, but I don’t think +I quite understand,” said Westby suavely.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81"></a><span class="pagenum" title="81"></span>“You understand well enough. I ask you +to leave the room.”</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid, Mr. Upton, that my little +pleasantries—usually considered harmless—do +not commend themselves to you. But you +hurt my feelings very much, sir, when you +apply such a harsh word as insolence to my +whimsical humor—”</p> + +<p>“I’ll hold no argument with you,” cried +Irving; in his excitement his voice rose thin +and thrill. “Leave the room at once.”</p> + +<p>Westby laid the pointer and the chalk on +the shelf, blew the dust from his fingers, and +walked towards his seat. Irving took a step +forward; his face was white.</p> + +<p>“What do you mean!—What do you +mean! I told you to leave the room.”</p> + +<p>Westby faced him with composure through +which showed a sneer; for the first time the +boy was displaying contempt; hitherto his attitude +had been jocose and cajoling.</p> + +<p>“I was going for my cap,” he said, and his +eyes flashed scornfully. Then, regardless of +the master’s look, he continued past the row<a name="Page_82" id="Page_82"></a><span class="pagenum" title="82"></span> +of his classmates, took up his cap, and retraced +his steps towards the door. Irving stood watching +him, with lips compressed in a stern line; +the line thinned even more when he saw +Westby bestow on his friends a droll, drooping +wink of the left eyelid.</p> + +<p>And then, while all the class sat in silence, +Westby did an audacious thing—a thing that +set every one except Irving off into a joyous +titter. He went out of the door doing the +sailor’s hornpipe,—right hand on stomach, +left hand on back, left hand on stomach, right +hand on back, and taking little skips as he +alternated the position. And so, skipping merrily, +he disappeared down the corridor.</p> + +<p>Irving returned to his platform. His hands +were trembling, and he felt weak. When he +spoke, he hardly knew his own voice. But he +struggled to control it, and said,—</p> + +<p>“Scarborough, please go to the board and +demonstrate your theorem.”</p> + +<p>There was no more disorder in class that +day; in fact, after Westby’s disappearance +the boys were exceptionally well behaved.<a name="Page_83" id="Page_83"></a><span class="pagenum" title="83"></span> +Slowly Irving recovered his composure, yet +the ordeal left him feeling as if he wanted +to shut himself up in his room and lie down. +He knew that he had lost command of his +temper; he regretted the manner in which he +had stormed at Westby; but he thought nevertheless +that the treatment had been effective +and therefore not entirely to be deplored. +The boys had thought him soft; he had shown +them that he was not; and he determined that +from this time forth he would bear down upon +them hard. If by showing them amiability +and kindliness he had failed to win their respect, +he would now compel it by ferocity. He +would henceforth show no quarter to any +malefactor.</p> + +<p>Walking up to his room, he fell in with +Barclay, who was also returning from a class.</p> + +<p>“What is the extreme penalty one can inflict +on a boy who misbehaves?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“For a single act?” asked Barclay.</p> + +<p>“For one that’s a climax of others—insolence, +disobedience, disorder—all heaped into +one.”</p> + +<p><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84"></a><span class="pagenum" title="84"></span>Irving spoke hotly, and Barclay glanced at +him with a sympathetic interest.</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Barclay, “three sheets and +six marks off in decorum is about the limit. +After that happens to a boy two or three +times, the rector is likely to take a hand.—If +you don’t mind my saying it, though—in +my opinion it’s a mistake to start in by being +extreme.”</p> + +<p>“In ordinary cases, perhaps.” Irving’s tone +did not invite questioning, and he did not +confide to Barclay what extraordinary case he +had under consideration.</p> + +<p>When he reached his room, he wrote out on +a slip of paper, “Westby, insolence and disorder +in class, three sheets,” and laid the paper +on his desk. Then he undertook to correct +the exercises in geometry which had been the +fruit of the Sixth Form’s labors in the last +hour; but after going through five or six of +them, his mind wandered; it reverted uneasily +to the thought of his future relations with +those boys. He rose and paced about the +room, and hardened his heart. He would be<a name="Page_85" id="Page_85"></a><span class="pagenum" title="85"></span> +just as strict and stern and severe with them +all as he possibly could be. When he had +them well trained, he might attempt to win +their liking—if that seemed any longer worth +having! It did not seem so to him now; all +he wanted to know now was that he had +awakened in them respect and fear.</p> + +<p>Respect and fear—could he have inspired +those, by his excitable shriekings in the class +room, by his lack of self-control in dormitory +and at the dinner table, by his incompetence +when confronted with a roast of beef! Each +incident that recurred to him was of a kind +to bring with it the sting of mortification; +his cheeks tingled. He must at least learn +how to perform the simple duties expected +of a master; he could not afford to continue +giving exhibitions of ignorance and incompetence.</p> + +<p>Moved by this impulse, he descended to the +kitchen—precincts which he had never before +entered and in which his appearance created +at first some consternation. The cook, however, +was obliging; and when he had confessed<a name="Page_86" id="Page_86"></a><span class="pagenum" title="86"></span> +himself the incapable one who had sent out +the mutilated beef to be carved, she was most +reassuring in her speech, and taking the cold +remains of a similar cut from the ice chest, she +gave him an object lesson. She demonstrated +to him how he should begin the attack, how +he might foil the bone that existed only to +baffle, how slice after slice might fall beneath +his sure and rapid slashes.</p> + +<p>“I see,” said Irving, taking the knife and +fork from her and making some imaginary +passes. “The fork so—the knife so. And +you will always be sure to have a sharp carving +knife for me—very sharp?”</p> + +<p>The cook smiled and promised, and he extravagantly +left her contemplating a dollar +bill.</p> + +<p>Shortly after he had returned to his room +the bell on the Study building rang, announcing +the end of the morning session. There +was half an hour before luncheon; soon the +boys came tramping up the stairs and past +Irving’s closed door. Soon also a racketing +began in the corridors; Irving suspected an<a name="Page_87" id="Page_87"></a><span class="pagenum" title="87"></span> +intention to bait him still further; it was +probably Westby once again. He waited until +the noise became too great to be ignored—shouting +and battering and scuffling; then he +went forth to quell it.</p> + +<p>To his surprise Westby was not engaged in +the disturbance—was, in fact, not visible. +Collingwood, with his back turned, was in the +act of hurling a football to the farther end of +the corridor, where Scarborough and Morrill +and Dennison were gathered. The forward +pass was new in football this year, and although +the playing season had not yet begun, +Irving had already seen fellows practicing for +it, in front of the Study and behind the dormitory. +Collingwood, he knew, was captain of +the school football eleven, and naturally had +all the latest developments of the game, such +as the forward pass, very much on his mind. +Still that was no excuse for playing football +in the corridor.</p> + +<p>Morrill had caught the ball, and as Irving +approached, undertook to return it. But it +ricochetted against the wall and bounced down<a name="Page_88" id="Page_88"></a><span class="pagenum" title="88"></span> +at Collingwood’s feet. Collingwood seized it +and was poising it in his hand for another +throw when Irving spoke behind him—sharply, +for he was mindful of his resolve to +be severe:—</p> + +<p>“No more of that, Collingwood.”</p> + +<p>The boy turned eagerly and said,—</p> + +<p>“Oh, Mr. Upton, I’m just getting on to +how to do it. Here, let me show you. You +take it this way, along the lacings—the trouble +is, my hand’s not quite long enough to +get a good grip—and then you take it like +this—”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Irving coldly; he had an idea +that Collingwood had adopted Westby’s method +and was engaged in chaffing him. “You +needn’t show me.”</p> + +<p>And he turned abruptly and went into his +room, closing the door behind him.</p> + +<p>Collingwood stood, looking round over his +shoulder after Irving and holding the ball out +in the arrested attitude of one about to throw. +On his face was an expression of utter amazement, +which rapidly gave place to indignation.<a name="Page_89" id="Page_89"></a><span class="pagenum" title="89"></span> +Collingwood had a temper, and sometimes—even +when he was not on the football field—it +flared up.</p> + +<p>“Of all the chumps!” he muttered; and he +turned, and poising the ball again, flung it +with all his strength at the master’s door. It +went straight to the mark, crashed against the +upper panel with a tremendous bang, and rebounded +to Collingwood’s feet.</p> + +<p>Irving opened the door and came out with a +leap.</p> + +<p>“Collingwood,” he cried, and his voice was +quivering as it had quivered that morning in +class, “did you throw that ball?”</p> + +<p>“I did,” said Collingwood.</p> + +<p>“Very well. I shall report you. I will have +no more of this insolence.”</p> + +<p>He swung round and shut himself again +in his room. The fellows at the other end +of the corridor had stood aghast; now they +came hurrying up. Collingwood was laughing.</p> + +<p>“Kiddy’s getting to be a regular lion,” he +said, and when Morrill and Dennison were for<a name="Page_90" id="Page_90"></a><span class="pagenum" title="90"></span> +expressing their indignation, he only laughed +the more.</p> + +<p>It was not very pleasant for Irving at luncheon. +Westby gave him an amused glance when +he came in—more amused than hostile—and +Irving preserved his dignity by returning an +unflinching look. Westby made no further +overtures for a while; the other boys chattered +among themselves, about football and tennis, +and Irving sat silent at the head of the table. +At last, however, Westby turned to him.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Upton,” said Westby deferentially, +“how would you explain this? There’s a dog, +and he must be doing one of two things; either +he’s running or he’s not running. If he’s not +doing the one, he is doing the other, isn’t +he?”</p> + +<p>“I suppose so,” said Irving.</p> + +<p>“Well, he’s not running. Therefore—he +is running. How do you explain that, Mr. +Upton?”</p> + +<p>Irving smiled feebly; the other boys were +thinking it over with puzzled faces.</p> + +<p>“That’s an old quibble,” said Irving. “The +<a name="Page_91" id="Page_91"></a><span class="pagenum" title="91"></span>alternative for running is not running. Therefore +when he’s not running—he’s <em>not</em> running.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t see that that explains it,” answered +Westby. “That’s just making a statement—but +it isn’t logic.”</p> + +<p>“He’s not running is the negative of he’s +running; he’s not not-running is the negative +of he’s not running—”</p> + +<p>“Then,” said Westby, “how fast must a dog +travel that is not not-running to catch a dog that +is not exactly running but only perhaps?”</p> + +<p>The boys laughed; Irving retorted, “That’s +a problem that you might work out on the +blackboard sometime.”</p> + +<p>Thereupon Westby became silent, and Irving +more than half repented of his speech; he +knew that in its reference it had been ill-natured.</p> + +<p>He noticed later in the day when he went +up to the dormitory that the boys tiptoed about +the corridors and conversed in whispers; there +was an extravagant air of quiet. When they +went down to supper, they tiptoed past Irving’s<a name="Page_92" id="Page_92"></a><span class="pagenum" title="92"></span> +room in single file, saying in unison, “Sh! +Sh! Sh!” They all joined in this procession—from +Collingwood to Allison. Irving felt that +he had taken Allison’s place as the laughing-stock, +the butt of the dormitory.</p> + +<p>In the evening they came to bid him good-night—not +straggling up as they usually did, +but in a delegation, expectant and amused. +Westby and Collingwood were in the van when +Irving opened his door in response to the +knock.</p> + +<p>“We didn’t know whether you’d shake +hands with two such reprobates or not,” said +Westby. “We thought it wasn’t quite safe to +come up alone—so we’ve brought a bodyguard.”</p> + +<p>Irving did not smile, though, all the boys +were grinning. He shook hands formally with +Collingwood, then with Westby, then with the +others, saying good-night to each; as they left +him, they tiptoed to their rooms. He thought +grimly that, whatever might be the sentiments +entertained towards him, he would not long be +living in an atmosphere of ridicule.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93"></a><span class="pagenum" title="93"></span>Irving had charge of the “big study,” as it +was called, during the hour immediately after +morning chapel. The boys filed in from chapel +and seated themselves at their desks; the members +of the Sixth Form, who were privileged +to study in their rooms and therefore had no +desks in the schoolroom, occupied the stalls +along the wall under the big clock. Last of all +the rector entered and, mounting the platform, +read the “reports” for the day—that is, the +names of those who had transgressed and the +penalties imposed. After the reading, the Sixth +Form went upstairs to their Latin class with +Mr. Barclay, and the day’s work began.</p> + +<p>On the morning following his encounters +with Westby and with Collingwood, Irving as +usual took charge of the Study. The boys assembled; +Irving rang the bell, reducing them to +quiet; Dr. Davenport came in, mounted the +platform, and took up the report book—in +which Irving had just finished transcribing +his entries.</p> + +<p>Dr. Davenport began reading in his clear, +emphatic voice, “Out of bounds, Mason, Ster<a name="Page_94" id="Page_94"></a><span class="pagenum" title="94"></span>rett, +Coyle, one sheet; late to study, Hart, +McQuiston, Durfee, Stratton, Kane, half a +sheet; tardy to breakfast—” and so on. None +of the offenses were very serious; and the +rector read them out rapidly. But at last he +paused a moment; and then, looking up from +the book, he said, with grave distinctness, +“Disorderly in class and insolent, Westby, +three sheets; disorderly in dormitory and insolent, +Collingwood, three sheets.”</p> + +<p>He closed the book; a stir, a thrill of interest, +ran round the room. For a Sixth Former +to be charged with such offenses and condemned +to such punishment was rare: for +Collingwood, who was in a sense the leader of +the school, to be so charged and punished was +unprecedented.</p> + +<p>Collingwood, sitting directly under the +clock, and facing so many curious questioning +eyes, turned red; Westby, standing by the +door, looked at him and smiled. At the same +time, Dr. Davenport, closing the report-book, +leaned towards Irving and said quietly in his +ear,—</p> + +<p><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95"></a><span class="pagenum" title="95"></span>“Mr. Upton, I should like to see you about +those last two reports—immediately after +this study hour.”</p> + +<p>Irving reddened; the rector’s manner was +not approving.</p> + +<p>Dr. Davenport descended from the platform +and walked slowly down the aisle. As he approached, +he looked straight at Westby; and +Westby returned the look steadily—as if he +was ashamed of nothing.</p> + +<p>The rector passed through the doorway; +the Sixth Form followed; the day’s work began.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<div><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a><span class="toclnk"><a href="#CONTENTS">TOC</a></span></div> +<h2><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96"></a><span class="pagenum" title="96"></span>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<h3>MASTER TURNS PUPIL</h3> + + +<p>The rector received Irving with a smile. +“Well,” he said, “I think you must +be a believer in the maxim, ‘Hit hard and hit +first.’ Would you mind telling me what was +the trouble?”</p> + +<p>“It wasn’t so much any one thing,” replied +Irving. “It was a culmination of little +things.—Oh, I suppose I started in wrong +with the fellows somehow.”</p> + +<p>He was silent for a moment, in dejection.</p> + +<p>“A good many do that,” said Dr. Davenport. +“There would be small progress in the +world if there never was any rectifying of +false starts.”</p> + +<p>“I can hardly help it if I look young,” said +Irving. “That’s one of my troubles. I suppose +I ought to avoid acting young. I haven’t, +altogether. They call me Kiddy.”</p> + +<p><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97"></a><span class="pagenum" title="97"></span>“We get hardened to nicknames,” observed +the rector. “But often they’re affectionate. +At least I like to cherish that delusion with +regard to mine; my legs have the same curve +as Napoleon’s, and I have been known as ‘Old +Hoopo’ for years.”</p> + +<p>“But they don’t call you that to your face.”</p> + +<p>“No, not exactly. Have they been calling +you ‘Kiddy’ to your face?”</p> + +<p>“It amounts to that.” Irving narrated the +remarks that he had overheard in dormitory, +and then described Westby’s performance at +the blackboard.</p> + +<p>“That certainly deserved rebuke,” agreed +the rector. “Though I think Westby was attempting +to be facetious rather than insolent; +I have never seen anything to indicate that +he was a malicious boy.—What was it that +Louis Collingwood did?”</p> + +<p>Irving recited the offense.</p> + +<p>“Weren’t you a little hasty in assuming +that he was trying to tease you?” asked the +rector. “When he persisted in wanting to +show you how the forward pass is made? I<a name="Page_98" id="Page_98"></a><span class="pagenum" title="98"></span> +think it’s quite likely he was sincere; he’s +so enthusiastic over football that it doesn’t +occur to him that others may not share his interest. +I don’t think Collingwood was trying +to be ‘fresh.’ Of course, he shouldn’t have +lost his temper and banged the ball at your +door—but I think that hardly showed malice.”</p> + +<p>“It seemed to me it was insolent—and disorderly. +I felt the fellows all thought they +could do anything with me and I would be +afraid to report them. And so I thought I’d +show them I wasn’t afraid.”</p> + +<p>“At the same time, three sheets is the +heaviest punishment, short of actual suspension, +that we inflict. It seems hardly a penalty +for heedless or misguided jocularity.”</p> + +<p>“I think perhaps I was hard on Collingwood,” +admitted Irving.</p> + +<p>“If he comes to you about it—maybe +you’ll feel disposed to modify the punishment. +And possibly the same with Westby.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t feel sure that I’ve been too hard +on Westby.”</p> + +<p><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99"></a><span class="pagenum" title="99"></span>The rector smiled; he was not displeased +at this trace of stubbornness.</p> + +<p>“Well, I won’t advise you any further about +that. Use your own judgment. It takes time +for a young man to get his bearings in a place +like this.—If you don’t mind my saying it,” +added the rector mildly, “couldn’t you be a +little more objective in your interests?”</p> + +<p>“You mean,” said Irving, “less—less self-centred?”</p> + +<p>“That’s it.” The rector smiled.</p> + +<p>“I’ll try,” said Irving humbly.</p> + +<p>“All right; good luck.” The rector shook +hands with him and turned to his desk.</p> + +<p>There was no disturbance in the Mathematics +class that day. Irving hoped that after +the hour Westby and Collingwood might approach +him to discuss the justice of the reports +which he had given them, and so offer him +an opportunity of lightening the punishment. +But in this he was disappointed. Nor did they +come to him in the noon recess—the usual +time for boys who felt themselves wronged to +seek out the masters who had wronged them.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100"></a><span class="pagenum" title="100"></span>Irving debated with himself the advisability +of going to the two boys and voluntarily +remitting part of their task. But he decided +against this; to make the advances and the +concession both would be to concede too much.</p> + +<p>At luncheon there was an unpleasant moment. +No sooner had the boys sat down than +Blake, a Fifth Former, called across the table +to Westby,—</p> + +<p>“Say, Westby, who was it that gave you +three sheets?”</p> + +<p>Westby scowled and replied,—</p> + +<p>“Mr. Upton.”</p> + +<p>“What for?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, ask him.”</p> + +<p>Irving reddened, aware of the glancing, +curious gaze of every boy at the table. There +was an interesting silence, relieved at last by +the appearance of the boy with the mail. +Among the letters, Irving found one from +Lawrence; he opened it with a sense that it +afforded him a momentary refuge. The unintended +irony of the first words drew a bitter +smile to his lips.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101"></a><span class="pagenum" title="101"></span>“You are certainly a star teacher,” Lawrence +wrote, “and I know now what a success +you must be making with your new job. +I have just learned that I passed all the examinations—which +is more than you or I ever +dreamed I could do—so I am now a freshman +at Harvard without conditions. And it’s all +due to you; I don’t believe there’s another +man on earth that could have got me through +with such a record and in so short a time.”</p> + +<p>Irving forgot the irony, forgot Westby and +Collingwood and the amused, whispering boys. +Happiness had suddenly flashed down and +caught him up and borne him away to his +brother. Lawrence’s whole letter was so gay, +so exultant, so grateful that Irving, when he +finished it, turned back again to the first page. +When at last he raised his eyes from it, they +dwelt unseeingly upon the boys before him; they +held his brother’s image, his brother’s smile. +And from the vision he knew that there at +least he had justified himself, whatever might +be his failure now; and if he had succeeded +once, he could succeed again.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102"></a><span class="pagenum" title="102"></span>Irving became aware that Westby was treating +him with cheerful indifference—ignoring +him. He did not care; the letter had put into +him new courage. And pretty soon there woke +in him along with this courage a gentler spirit; +it was all very well for Westby, a boy and +therefore under discipline, to exhibit a stiff +and haughty pride; but it was hardly admirable +that a master should maintain that attitude. +The punishment to which he had sentenced +Westby and Collingwood was, it appeared, +too harsh; if they were so proud that +they would not appeal to him to modify it, +he would make a sacrifice in the interest of +justice.</p> + +<p>So after luncheon he followed Westby and +spoke to him outside of the dining-room.</p> + +<p>“Westby,” he said, “do you think that +considering the circumstances three sheets is +excessive?”</p> + +<p>Westby looked surprised; then he shrugged +his shoulders.</p> + +<p>“I’m not asking any favors,” he replied.</p> + +<p>Irving laughed. “No,” he said, “I see<a name="Page_103" id="Page_103"></a><span class="pagenum" title="103"></span> +you’re not. But I’m afraid I must deny you +the pleasure of martyrdom. I’ll ask you to +take a note to Mr. Elwood—he’s in charge +of the Study, isn’t he? I’ll tell him that +you’re to write a sheet and a half instead of +three sheets.”</p> + +<p>He drew a note-book from his pocket and +tore out one of the pages. Westby looked at +him curiously—as if in an effort to determine +just how poor-spirited this sudden surrender +was. Irving spoke again before writing.</p> + +<p>“By the way, will you please ask Collingwood +to come here?”</p> + +<p>When Westby returned with Collingwood, +Irving had the note written and handed it to +him; there was no excuse for Westby to linger. +He went over and waited by the door, +while Irving said,—</p> + +<p>“Collingwood, why didn’t you come up +and ask me to reduce your report? Didn’t +you think it was unfair?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” Collingwood answered promptly.</p> + +<p>“Well, then—why didn’t you come to me +and say so?”</p> + +<p><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104"></a><span class="pagenum" title="104"></span>Collingwood thought a moment.</p> + +<p>“Well,” he said, “you had such fun in +soaking me that I wasn’t going to give you +the additional satisfaction of seeing me cry +baby.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll learn something about boys sometime—if +you fellows will keep on educating me,” +observed Irving. “I think your performance +of yesterday deserves about a sheet; we’ll +make it that.”</p> + +<p>He scribbled a note and handed it to the +boy.</p> + +<p>“Thank you, Mr. Upton.” Collingwood +tucked the note into his pocket with a friendly +smile, and then joined Westby.</p> + +<p>“Knock you down to half a sheet?” asked +Westby, as they departed in the direction of +the Study, where they were to perform their +tasks.</p> + +<p>“No; a sheet.”</p> + +<p>“Mine’s one and a half now. What got +into him?”</p> + +<p>“He’s not without sense,” said Collingwood.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105"></a><span class="pagenum" title="105"></span>“Ho!” Westby was derisive. “He’s soft. +He got scared. He knew he’d gone too far—and +he was afraid to stand by his guns.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t think so. I think he’s just trying +to do the right thing.”</p> + +<p>It was unfortunate for Irving that later in +the afternoon Carter of the Fifth Form—who +played in the banjo club with Westby—was +passing the Study building just as Westby +was coming out from his confinement.</p> + +<p>“Hello, Wes!” said Carter. “Thought +you were in for three sheets; how do you +happen to be at large so soon?”</p> + +<p>“Kiddy made it one and a half—without +my asking him,” said Westby.</p> + +<p>“And Collingwood the same?”</p> + +<p>“He made his only a sheet.”</p> + +<p>“That’s it,” said Carter shrewdly. “I was +waiting to see the rector this morning; the +door was open, and he had Kiddy in there +with him. I guess he was lecturing him on +those reports; I guess he told him he’d have +to take off a couple of sheets.”</p> + +<p>“I shouldn’t wonder,” said Westby. “I<a name="Page_106" id="Page_106"></a><span class="pagenum" title="106"></span> +don’t believe old Hoopo would have interfered +much on my account,—but I guess he couldn’t +stand for Lou Collingwood getting three +sheets. And Kiddy, the fox, tried to make us +think he was being magnanimous!”</p> + +<p>Westby chuckled over his humorous discovery, +and as soon as possible imparted it to +Collingwood.</p> + +<p>“Oh, well, what if the rector did make him +do it?” said Collingwood. “The way he did +it shows he’s all right—”</p> + +<p>“Trying to get the credit with us for being +just and generous!” observed Westby. “Oh, +I don’t mind; of course it’s only Kiddy.”</p> + +<p>And it was Westby’s view of the matter +which most of the boys heard and credited. +So the improvement in the general attitude +for which Irving had hoped was hardly to be +noticed. He had some gratification the next +Sunday when the roast beef was brought on +and he carved it with creditable ease and dispatch; +the astonishment of the whole table, +and especially of Westby and Carroll, was +almost as good as applause. He could not re<a name="Page_107" id="Page_107"></a><span class="pagenum" title="107"></span>sist +saying, in a casual way, “The knife seems +to be sharp this Sunday.” And he felt that +for once Westby was nonplussed.</p> + +<p>But the days passed, and Irving felt that +he was not getting any nearer to the boys. At +his table the talk went on before him, mainly +about athletics, about college life, about Europe +and automobiles,—all topics from which +he seemed strangely remote. It needed only +the talk of these experienced youths to make +him realize that he had gone through college +without ever touching “college life,”—its +sports, its social diversions, its adventures. It +had been for him a life in a library, in classrooms, +in his own one shabby little room,—a +cloistered life; in the hard work of it and the +successful winning of his way he had been +generally contented and happy. But he could +not talk to these boys about “college life” as +it appeared to them; and they very soon, perhaps +by common consent, eliminated him from +the conversation. Nor was he able to cope with +Westby in the swift, glancing monologues +which flowed on and on sometimes, to the vast<a name="Page_108" id="Page_108"></a><span class="pagenum" title="108"></span> +amusement of the audience. Often to Irving +these seemed not very funny, and he did not +know which was the more trying—to sit grave +and unconcerned in the midst of so much mirth +or to keep his mouth stretched in an insincere, +wooden smile. Whichever he did, he felt that +Westby always was taking notes, to ridicule +him afterwards to the other boys.</p> + +<p>One habit which Westby had was that of +bringing a newspaper to supper and taking the +table with him in an excursion over headlines +and advertising columns. His mumbling manner, +his expertness in bringing out distinctly a +ridiculous or incongruous sentence, and his +skill in selecting such sentences at a glance +always drew attention and applause; he had +the comedian’s technique.</p> + +<p>The boys at the neighboring tables, hearing +so much laughter and seeing that Westby was +provoking it, would stop eating and twist +round and tilt back their chairs and strain +their ears eagerly for some fragment of the +fun. At last at the head table Mr. Randolph +took cognizance of this daily boisterousness,<a name="Page_109" id="Page_109"></a><span class="pagenum" title="109"></span> +spoke to Irving about it, and asked him to +curb it. Irving thereupon suggested to Westby +that he refrain from reading his newspaper at +table.</p> + +<p>“But all the fellows depend on me to keep +them <em>au courant</em>, as it were.” Westby was +fond of dropping into French in his arguments +with Irving.</p> + +<p>“You will have to choose some other time +for it,” Irving answered. “I understand that +there is a rule against reading newspapers at +table, and I think it must be observed.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, very well,—<em>de bon cœur</em>,” said +Westby.</p> + +<p>The next day at supper he appeared without +his newspaper. But in the course of the +meal he drew from his pocket some newspaper +clippings which he had pasted together and +which he began to read in his usual manner. +Soon the boys of the table were laughing, +soon the boys of the adjacent tables were +twisting round and trying to share in the +amusement. Westby read in his rapid consecutive +way,—</p> + +<p><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110"></a><span class="pagenum" title="110"></span>“‘Does no good unless taken as directed—pain +in the back, loins, or region of the kidneys—danger +signal nature hangs out—um—um—um. +Mother attacks son with razor, taking +tip of left ear. Catcher Dan McQuilligan signs +with the Red Sox—The Woman Beautiful—Bright +Eyes: Every woman is entitled to a +clear, brilliant complexion—um—if she is +not so blessed, it is usually her own fault—um—Candidate +for pulchritude: reliable beauty +shop—do not clip the eyelashes—um.—Domestic +science column—Baked quail: pick, +draw, and wipe the bird outside and inside; +use a wet cloth.—No, Hortense, it is not necessary +to offer a young man refreshments +during an evening call.’”</p> + +<p>Westby was going on and on; he had a +hilarious audience now of three tables. From +the platform at the end of the dining-room +Mr. Randolph looked down and shook his +head—shook it emphatically; and Irving, +seeing it, understood the signal.</p> + +<p>“Westby,” said Irving. “Westby!” He +had to raise his voice.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111"></a><span class="pagenum" title="111"></span>“Yes, sir?” Westby looked up innocently.</p> + +<p>“I will have to ask you to discontinue your +reading.”</p> + +<p>“But this is not a newspaper.”</p> + +<p>“It’s part of one.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir, but the rule is against bringing +newspapers to table—not against bringing +newspaper clippings to table.”</p> + +<p>“The rule’s been changed,” said Irving. +“It now includes clippings.”</p> + +<p>“You see how it is, fellows.” Westby turned +to the others. “Persecuted—always persecuted. +If I’m within the rules—they change +the rules to soak me. Well,”—he folded up +his clippings and put them in his pocket,—“the +class in current topics is dismissed. But +instead Mr. Upton has very kindly consented +to entertain us this evening—some of his inimitable +chit-chat—”</p> + +<p>“I wouldn’t always try to be facetious, +Westby,” said Irving.</p> + +<p>“I beg your pardon, sir,” replied Westby +urbanely. “If I have wounded your sensibili<a name="Page_112" id="Page_112"></a><span class="pagenum" title="112"></span>ties—I +would not do that—never—<em>jamais—pas +du tout</em>.”</p> + +<p>Irving said nothing; it seemed to him that +Westby always had the last word; it seemed +to him as if Westby was always skillfully tripping +him up, executing a derisive flourish +over his prostrate form, and then prancing +away to the cheers of the populace.</p> + +<p>But there were no more violent encounters, +such as had taken place in the class-room; +Westby never quite crossed the line again; +and Irving controlled his temper on threatening +occasions. These occurred in dormitory +less often; the fine weather and the fall sports—football +and tennis and track athletics—kept +the boys out-doors. On rainy afternoons +there was apt to be some noise and disorder—usually +there was what was termed an “Allison +hunt,” which took various forms, but which, +whether resulting in the dismemberment of +the boy’s room or the pursuit and battery of +him with pillows along the corridors, invariably +required Irving’s interference to quell it. This +task of interference, though it was one that he<a name="Page_113" id="Page_113"></a><span class="pagenum" title="113"></span> +came to perform more and more capably, never +grew less distasteful or less humiliating; he +saw always the row of faces wearing what he +construed as an impudent grin. What seemed +to him curious was the fact that Allison after a +fashion enjoyed—at least did not resent—the +outrages of which he was the subject; after +them he would be found sitting amicably with +his tormentors, drinking their chocolate and +eating their crackers and jam. This was so +different from his own attitude after he had +been teased that Irving could not understand +it. After studying the case, he concluded that +the “Allison hunts” were not prompted by +any hatred of the subject, but by the fact +merely that he was big, clumsy, good-natured, +slow-witted—easy to make game of—and +especially by the fact that when aroused he +showed a certain joyous rage in his own defense. +But Irving saw no way of learning a +lesson from Allison.</p> + +<p>As the days went on, the sense of his isolation +in the School became more oppressive. +He had thought that if only the fellows would<a name="Page_114" id="Page_114"></a><span class="pagenum" title="114"></span> +let him alone, he would be contented; he +found that was not so. They let him alone now +entirely; he envied those masters who were +popular—whom boys liked to visit on Sunday +evenings, who were consulted about contributions +to the <em>Mirror</em>, the school paper, who +were invited to meetings of the Stylus, the literary +society, who coached the football elevens +or went into the Gymnasium and did “stunts” +with the boys on the flying rings.</p> + +<p>One day when he was walking down to the +athletic field with Mr. Barclay, he said something +that hinted his wistful and unhappy +state of mind. Barclay had suspected it and +had been waiting for such an opportunity.</p> + +<p>“Why don’t you make some interest for +yourself which would put you on a footing +with the boys—outside of the class-room and +the dormitory?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“I wish I could. But how?”</p> + +<p>“You ought to be able to work up an interest +of some sort,” said Barclay vaguely.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know anything about athletics; +I’m not musical, I don’t seem to be able to be<a name="Page_115" id="Page_115"></a><span class="pagenum" title="115"></span> +entertaining and talk to the boys. I guess I’m +just a grind. I shall never be of much use as +a teacher; it’s bad enough to feel that you’re +not up to your job. It’s worse when it makes +you feel that you’re even less up to the job +that you hoped to prepare for.”</p> + +<p>“How’s that?”</p> + +<p>“I meant to study law; I’d like to be a +lawyer. But what’s the use? If I can’t learn +to handle boys, how can I ever hope to handle +men?—and that’s what a lawyer has to do, +I suppose.”</p> + +<p>“Look here,” said Barclay. “You’re still +young; if you’ve learned what’s the matter +with you—and you seem to have—you’ve +learned more than most fellows of your age. +It’s less than a month that you’ve been here, +and you’ve never had any experience before +in dealing with boys. Why should you expect +to know it all at once?”</p> + +<p>“I suppose there’s something in that. But +I feel that I haven’t it in me ever to get on +with them.”</p> + +<p>“You’re doing better now than you did at<a name="Page_116" id="Page_116"></a><span class="pagenum" title="116"></span> +first; they don’t look on you entirely as a +joke now, do they?”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps not.—Oh,” Irving broke out, +“I know what the trouble is—I want to be +liked—and I suppose I’m not the likeable +kind.”</p> + +<p>Barclay did not at once dispute this statement, +and Irving was beginning to feel hurt.</p> + +<p>“The point is,” said Barclay at last, “that +to be liked by boys you’ve got to like them. +If you hold off from them and distrust them +and try to wrap yourself up in a cloak of dignity +or mystery, they won’t like you because +they won’t know you. If you show an interest +in them and their interests, you can be as +stern with them as justice demands, and they +won’t lay it up against you. But if you don’t +show an interest—why, you can’t expect them +to have an interest in you.”</p> + +<p>They turned a bend in the road; the athletic +field lay spread out before them. In different +parts of it half a dozen football elevens were +engaged in practice; on the tennis courts near +the athletic house boys in white trousers and<a name="Page_117" id="Page_117"></a><span class="pagenum" title="117"></span> +sweaters were playing; on the track encircling +the football field other boys more lightly clad +were sprinting or jogging round in practice +for long-distance runs; a few sauntered about +as spectators, with hands in their overcoat +pockets.</p> + +<p>“There,” said Barclay, indicating a group +of these idle observers, “you can at least do +that.”</p> + +<p>“But what’s the use?”</p> + +<p>“Make yourself a critic; pick out eight or +ten fellows to watch especially. In football or +tennis or running. It doesn’t much matter. +If they find you’re taking an intelligent interest +in what they’re doing, they’ll be pleased. +Westby, for instance, is running; he’s entered +for the hundred yards in the fall games,—likely +to win it, too. Westby’s your greatest +trial, isn’t he? Then why don’t you make +a point of watching him?—Not too obviously, +of course. Come round with me; I’m coaching +some of the runners for the next half-hour, +and then Collingwood wants me to give his +ends a little instruction.”</p> + +<p><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118"></a><span class="pagenum" title="118"></span>“Dear me! If I’d only been an athlete instead +of a student in college!” sighed Irving +whimsically.</p> + +<p>“You don’t need to be much of an athlete +to coach; I never was so very much,” confided +Barclay. “But there are things you can learn +by looking on.” They had reached the edge +of the track; Barclay clapped his hands. “No, +no, Roberts!” The boy who was practising +the start for a sprint looked up. “You mustn’t +reel all over the track that way when you +start; you’d make a foul. Keep your elbows +in, and run straight.”</p> + +<p>Irving followed Barclay round and tried to +grasp the significance of his comments. Dennison +came by at a trot.</p> + +<p>“Longer stride, Dennison! Your running’s +choppy! Lengthen out, lengthen out! That’s +better.—I have it!”</p> + +<p>Barclay turned suddenly to Irving.</p> + +<p>“What?”</p> + +<p>“The thing for you to do. We’ll make you +an official at the track games next week. That +will give you a standing at once—show every<a name="Page_119" id="Page_119"></a><span class="pagenum" title="119"></span>body +that you are really a keen follower of +sport—or want to be.”</p> + +<p>“But what can I do? I suppose an official +has to do something.”</p> + +<p>“You can be starter. That will put you +right in touch with the fellows that are entered.”</p> + +<p>“Would I have a revolver? I’ve never fired +a gun off in my life.”</p> + +<p>“Then it’s time you did. Of course you’ll +have a revolver. And you’ll be the noisiest, +most important man on the field. That’s what +you need to make yourself; wake the fellows +up to what you really are!—Now I must be +off to my football men; you’d better hang +round here and pick up what you can about +running. And remember—you’re to act as +starter.”</p> + +<p>“If you’ll see me through.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll see you through.”</p> + +<p>Barclay waved his hand and swung off across +the field.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<div><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a><span class="toclnk"><a href="#CONTENTS">TOC</a></span></div> +<h2><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120"></a><span class="pagenum" title="120"></span>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<h3>THE PENALTY FOR A FOUL</h3> + + +<p>How it was managed Irving did not know, +but on the morning of the day when +the fall handicap track games were held Scarborough +lingered after the Sixth Form Geometry +class. Scarborough was president of the +Athletic Association.</p> + +<p>“We want somebody to act as starter for +the races this afternoon, Mr. Upton,” said +Scarborough. “I wondered if you would help +us out.”</p> + +<p>“I should be delighted,” said Irving. “I’ve +not had much experience—”</p> + +<p>“Oh, it’s easy enough; Mr. Barclay, I guess, +can tell you all that has to be done. Thank +you very much.”</p> + +<p>It was quite as if Irving was the one who +was conferring the favor; he liked Scarborough +for the way in which the boy had made the<a name="Page_121" id="Page_121"></a><span class="pagenum" title="121"></span> +suggestion. He always had liked him, for +Scarborough had never given any trouble; +he seemed more mature than most of the boys, +more mature even than Louis Collingwood. +He was not so popular, because he maintained +a certain dignity and reserve; even Westby +seemed to stand somewhat in awe of Scarborough. +He was, as Irving understood, the +best oarsman in the school, captain of the +school crew, besides being the crack shot-putter +and hammer-thrower; if he and Collingwood +had together chosen to throw their influence +against a new master, life would indeed have +been hard. But Scarborough’s attitude had +been one of entire indifference; he would +stand by and smile sometimes when Westby +was engaged in chaffing Irving, and then, as +if tired of it, he would turn his back and walk +away.</p> + +<p>Irving visited Barclay at his house during +the noon recess, borrowed his revolver, and +received the last simple instructions.</p> + +<p>“Make sure always that they’re all properly +‘set’ before you fire. If there’s any fouling<a name="Page_122" id="Page_122"></a><span class="pagenum" title="122"></span> +at the start, you can call them back and penalize +the fellow that fouled—a yard to five +yards, according to your discretion. But +there’s not likely to be any fouling; in most +of the events the fellows are pretty well separated +by their handicaps.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll be careful,” said Irving. He inspected +the revolver. “It’s all loaded?”</p> + +<p>“Yes—and there are some blank cartridges. +Now, you’re all equipped. If any questions +come up—I’ll be down at the field; I’m to +be one of the judges and you can call on +me.”</p> + +<p>At luncheon Irving entered into the talk +about the sports to come, without giving any +intimation as to the part which he was to +play.</p> + +<p>“They’ve given Heath only thirty yards +over Lou Collingwood,” complained Westby.</p> + +<p>“I thought Lou wasn’t going to run, because +of football; he hasn’t been practising,” +said Carroll.</p> + +<p>“I know, but the Pythians have got hold +of him, and Dennison’s persuaded him it’s<a name="Page_123" id="Page_123"></a><span class="pagenum" title="123"></span> +his duty to run. And I guess he’s good +enough without practice to win from scratch—giving +that handicap!”</p> + +<p>“Is Dennison the captain of the Pythian +track team?” asked Irving.</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“And who’s captain of yours—the Corinthians?”</p> + +<p>“Ned Morrill.”</p> + +<p>“Morrill’s going awfully fast in the quarter +now,” said Blake. “I timed him yesterday.”</p> + +<p>“They’ve handicapped him pretty hard. +And he’s apt to be just a shade late in starting—just +as Dave Pratt is apt to be just a +shade previous,” said Westby. “It ought to +be a close race between those two.”</p> + +<p>“How much does Pratt get over Morrill?”</p> + +<p>“Five yards. And if he steals another yard +on the start—”</p> + +<p>“Dave wouldn’t steal it,” exclaimed Blake +indignantly. “You Corinthians would accuse +a man of anything!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I don’t mean that he’d do it intentionally,” +replied Westby. “But he’s so over<a name="Page_124" id="Page_124"></a><span class="pagenum" title="124"></span>anxious +and eager always—and he’s apt to +get away without realizing—without the +starter realizing.—I wonder who’s going to +be starter, by the way?”</p> + +<p>Nobody knew; Irving did not enlighten +them.</p> + +<p>Westby bethought him to ask the same +question of Scarborough half an hour later, +when they were dressing in the athletic house.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Upton has consented to serve,” said +Scarborough gravely.</p> + +<p>Westby thumped himself down on a bench, +dangling one spiked running shoe by the +string.</p> + +<p>“What! Kiddy!”</p> + +<p>“The same,” said Scarborough.</p> + +<p>Westby said nothing more; he stooped and +put on his shoe, and then he rose and came +over to Scarborough, who was untangling a +knot. He passed his hand over Scarborough’s +head and remarked wonderingly, “Feels perfectly +normal—strange—strange!”</p> + +<p>Morrill came in from outside, clapping his +hands. “Corinthians out for the mile—Heath<a name="Page_125" id="Page_125"></a><span class="pagenum" title="125"></span>—Price—Bolton—Edwards—all +ready?”</p> + +<p>The four named answered by clumping on +their spikes to the door.</p> + +<p>A moment later came the Pythian call from +Dennison; Collingwood and Morse responded. +The first event of the day was about to begin. +Westby leisurely brushed his hair, which had +been disarranged in the process of undressing; +he was like a cat in respect of his hair and +could not endure to have it rumpled. When it +was parted and plastered down to his satisfaction, +he slipped a dressing gown on over his +running clothes and went out of doors.</p> + +<p>The fall track meet was not of the same importance +as that in the spring, which was a +scratch event. But there were cups for prizes, +and there was always much rivalry between +the two athletic clubs, the Corinthians and +Pythians, as to which could show the most +winners. So for that day the football players +rested from their practice; many of them in +fact were entered in the sports—though, like +Collingwood, without any special preparation. +The school turned out to look on and cheer;<a name="Page_126" id="Page_126"></a><span class="pagenum" title="126"></span> +when Westby left the athletic house, he saw +the boys lined up on the farther side of the +track. The field was reserved for contestants +and officials; already many figures in trailing +dressing gowns were wandering over it, and +off at one side three or four were having a +preliminary practice in putting the shot.</p> + +<p>But most of those who were privileged to +be on the field stood at the farther side, where +the start for the mile run was about to take +place. Westby saw Randolph and Irving kneeling +by the track, measuring off the handicap +distances with a tape line; Barclay walked +along it, and summoned the different contestants +to their places. By the time that Westby +had crossed the field, the six runners were at +their stations; there was an interval of a hundred +and forty yards between Collingwood, at +scratch, and young Price of the Fourth Form.</p> + +<p>Westby came up and stood near Irving, +and fixed him with a whimsical smile.</p> + +<p>“Quite a new departure for you, isn’t it, +Mr. Upton?” he said.</p> + +<p>“I thought I’d come down and see if you<a name="Page_127" id="Page_127"></a><span class="pagenum" title="127"></span> +can run as fast as you can talk, Westby.” Irving +drew out the revolver, somewhat ostentatiously.</p> + +<p>“I hope you won’t shoot any one with that; +it looks to me as if you ought to be careful +how you handle it, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you for the advice, Westby.” Irving +turned from the humorist, and raised his +voice. “All ready for the mile now! On your +marks! Set!”</p> + +<p>He held the pistol aloft and fired, and the +six runners trotted away. There is nothing very +exciting about the start of a mile run, and Irving +felt that the intensity with which he had +given the commands had been rather absurd. +It was annoying to think that Westby had +been standing by and finding perhaps in his +nervousness a delectable subject for mockery +and derision.</p> + +<p>Irving walked down the track towards the +finish line. He found Barclay there holding +the watch.</p> + +<p>“You seem to be discharging your arduous +duties successfully,” said Barclay.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128"></a><span class="pagenum" title="128"></span>“Oh, so far.” Irving looked up the track; +the foremost runners were rounding the curve +at the end of their first lap. He had a moment’s +longing to be one of them, stretching +his legs like them, trying out his strength and +speed on the smooth cinder track against +others as eager as himself. He had never done +anything of that kind; hardly until now had +he ever felt the desire. Why it should come +upon him now so poignantly he did not know; +but on this warm October afternoon, when +the air and the sunshine were as soft as in +early September, he wished that he might be +a boy again and do the things which as a boy +he had never done. To be still young and +looking on at the sports and the strife of +youth, sports and strife in which he had never +borne a part—there was something humiliating +and ignoble in the thought. If he could +only be for the moment the little Fourth +Former there, Price—now flying on in the +lead yet casting many fearful backward glances!—Poor +child, even Irving’s inexperienced eyes +told him that he could never keep that pace.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129"></a><span class="pagenum" title="129"></span>“Go it, kid!” cried three or four older boys +good-naturedly, as Price panted by; and he +threw back his head and came down more +springily upon his toes, trying in response to +the cheer to display his best form.</p> + +<p>After him came Bolton and Edwards, side +by side; and Collingwood, who started at +scratch, had moved up a little on Morse and +Heath. Heath was considered the strongest +runner in the event for the Corinthians, and +they urged him on with cries of “Heath! +Heath!” as he made the turn. “You’ve got +’em, Lou!” shouted a group of Pythians the +next moment as Collingwood passed. It was +early in the race for any great demonstration +of excitement.</p> + +<p>It was Price whom Irving watched with +most sympathy. When he got round on the +farther side of the field, his pace had slackened +perceptibly; Bolton and Edwards passed +him and kept on widening the distance; Morse +and Heath passed him at the next turn; and +when he came down to the turn in front of +the crowd, running heavily, Collingwood over<a name="Page_130" id="Page_130"></a><span class="pagenum" title="130"></span>hauled +and passed him. It was rather an unfeeling +thing for Collingwood to do, right +there in front of the crowd, but he was driven +to it by force of circumstances; the four other +runners were holding on in a way he did not +like. The cries of encouragement to him and +to Heath were more urgent this time; Bolton +and Edwards and Morse had their supporters +too.</p> + +<p>Westby ran along the field beside Price, +and Irving felt a moment’s indignation; was +Westby taunting the plucky and exhausted +small boy? And then Irving saw that he was +not, and at the same instant Barclay turned +to him and said,—</p> + +<p>“Price is Westby’s young cousin.”</p> + +<p>Irving stood near enough to hear Westby +say, “Good work, Tom; you set the pace just +right; it’ll kill Collingwood. Now drop out.”</p> + +<p>Price shook his head and kept on; Westby +trotted beside him, saying anxiously, “There’s +no use in your wearing yourself all out.” But +Price continued at his determined, pounding +trot.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131"></a><span class="pagenum" title="131"></span>“He’s a plucky kid,” said Barclay.</p> + +<p>“Rather nice of Westby to take such an +interest,” said Irving.</p> + +<p>Barclay nodded. From that point on it became +a close and interesting race, yet every +now and then Irving’s eyes strayed to the +small figure toiling farther and farther to the +rear—but always toiling. Westby stood on +the edge of the green oval, not far away, and +when on the third lap Heath came by in the +lead, ran with him a few moments and shouted +advice and encouragement in his ear; he had +to shout, for all the Corinthians were shouting +for Heath now, and the Pythians were shouting +just as loudly for Collingwood, who, pocketed +by the two other Corinthians, Bolton and +Edwards, was running fifteen yards behind. +Morse, the only Pythian to support Collingwood, +was hopelessly out of it.</p> + +<p>Westby left Heath and turned his eyes +backward. His cousin came to the turn, white-faced, +and mouth hanging open; the crowd +clapped the boy. “Quit it, Tom!” cried Westby. +“Quit it; there’s no sense—” but Price went<a name="Page_132" id="Page_132"></a><span class="pagenum" title="132"></span> +pounding on. Westby stood looking after him +with a worried frown, and then because there +was a sudden shout, he turned to look at the +others.</p> + +<p>There, on the farther side of the field, Collingwood +had at last extricated himself from +the pocket; he was running abreast of Bolton; +Edwards had fallen behind. Heath was spurting; +Collingwood passed Bolton, but in doing +so did not lessen Heath’s lead—a lead of +fully fifteen yards. So they came to the last +turn, to the long straight-away home-stretch; +and the crowd clustered by the finish broke +and ran up alongside the track to meet them. +Every one was yelling wildly—one name or another—“Corinthian!” +“Pythian!” “Heath!” +“Collingwood!”</p> + +<p>Barclay ran across the track with one end +of the tape,—the finish line; Mr. Randolph +held the other. “Collingwood! Collingwood!” +rose the shout; Irving, standing on tiptoe, saw +that Collingwood was gaining, saw that at last +he and Heath were running side by side; they +held together while the crowd ran with them<a name="Page_133" id="Page_133"></a><span class="pagenum" title="133"></span> +shouting. Irving pressed closer to the track; +Westby in his dressing gown was jumping up +and down beside him, waving his arms; Irving +had to crane his neck and peer, in order to see +beyond those loose flapping sleeves. He saw +the light-haired Collingwood and the black-haired +Heath, coming down with their heads +back and their teeth bared and clenched; they +were only fifteen yards away. And then Collingwood +leaped ahead; it was as if he had unloosed +some latent and unconquerable spring, +which hurled him in a final burst of speed +across the tape and into half a dozen welcoming +arms. Heath stumbled after him, even more +in need of such friendly services; but both of +them revived very quickly when Mr. Barclay, +rushing into the crowd with the watch, cried, +“Within eight seconds of the record! Both +of you fellows will break it next June.”</p> + +<p>The other runners came gasping in—and +Price was still toiling away in the rear. He +had been half a lap behind; he came now into +the home-stretch; the crowd began to laugh, +and then more kindly, as he drew nearer, to<a name="Page_134" id="Page_134"></a><span class="pagenum" title="134"></span> +applaud. They clapped and called, “Good +work, Price!” Westby met him about fifty +yards from the finish and ran with him, saying, +“You’ve got to stick it out now, Tom; +you can’t drop out now; you’re all right, old +boy—lots of steam in your boiler—you’ll +break a record yet.” Irving caught some of +the speeches. And so Westby was there when +Price crossed the line and collapsed in a heap +on the track.</p> + +<p>It was not for long; they brought him to +with water, and Westby knelt by him fanning +his face with the skirt of his dressing gown. +Barclay picked the boy up. “Oh, I’m all +right, sir,” said Price, and he insisted on being +allowed to walk to the athletic house alone,—which +he did rather shakily.</p> + +<p>Westby flirted the cinders from the skirt +of his dressing gown. “Blamed little fool,” he +remarked to Carroll and to Allison, who stood +by. “Wouldn’t his mother give me the dickens, +though, for letting him do that!” But +Irving, who heard, knew there was a ring of +pride in Westby’s voice—as if Westby felt<a name="Page_135" id="Page_135"></a><span class="pagenum" title="135"></span> +that his cousin was a credit to the family. And +Irving thought he was.</p> + +<p>The sports went on; not many of the runs +were as exciting as that with which the afternoon +had opened. Irving passed back and +forth across the field, helped measure distances +for the handicaps, and tried to be useful. His +interest had certainly been awakened. Twice +in college he had sat on the “bleachers” +and viewed indifferently the track contests between +Yale and Harvard; he had had a patriotic +desire to see his own college win, but he +had been indifferent to the performance of +the individuals. They had not been individuals +to him—merely strange figures performing +in an arena. But here, where he knew +the boys and walked about among them, and +saw the different manifestations of nervousness +and excitement, and watched the muscles +in their slim legs and arms, he became himself +eager and sympathetic. He stood by when +Scarborough went on putting the shot after +beating all the other competitors—went on +putting it in an attempt to break the School<a name="Page_136" id="Page_136"></a><span class="pagenum" title="136"></span> +record. Unconsciously Irving pressed forward +to see him as he prepared for the third and last +try; unconsciously he stood with lips parted +and eyes shining, fascinated by the huge muscles +that rose in Scarborough’s brown arm +as he poised the weight at his shoulder and +heaved it tentatively. And when it was announced +that the effort had fallen short by +only a few inches, Irving’s sigh of disappointment +went up with that of the boys.</p> + +<p>At intervals the races were run off—the +two-twenty, the quarter-mile, the half-mile, the +high hurdles, the low hurdles. Irving started +them all without any mishap. The last one, +the low hurdles for two hundred and twenty +yards, was exciting; the runners were all well +matched and the handicaps were small. And +so, after firing the revolver, Irving started and +ran across the field as hard as he could, to be +at the finish; he arrived in time, and stood, +still holding the revolver in his hand, while +Morrill and Flack and Mason raced side by +side to the tape. They finished in that order, +not more than a yard apart; and Irving rammed<a name="Page_137" id="Page_137"></a><span class="pagenum" title="137"></span> +his revolver into his pocket and clapped his +hands and cheered with the Corinthians.</p> + +<p>The Pythians were now two points ahead, +and there remained only one event, the hundred +yards. First place counted five points and +second place two; in these games third place +did not count. So if a Corinthian should win +the hundred yards, the Corinthians would be +victorious in the meet by one point.</p> + +<p>There were eight entries in the hundred yards—a +large number to run without interfering +with one another. But the track was wide, and +two of the boys had handicaps of ten yards, one +had five yards, and one had three. So they were +spread out pretty well at the start, and consequently +the danger of interference was minimized.</p> + +<p>The runners threw off their dressing gowns +and took their places. Drake, Flack, Westby, +and Mason lined up at scratch,—Westby +having drawn the inside place and being +flanked by the two Pythians. There was a moment’s +pawing of the cinders, and settling down +firmly on the spikes.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138"></a><span class="pagenum" title="138"></span>“Ready, everybody!” cried Irving. He drew +the revolver from his pocket and held it aloft. +He was as excited as any of the runners; there +was the nervous thrill in his voice. “On your +marks!” They put their hands to the ground; +he ran his eyes along them to see that all were +placed. “Set!” There was the instant stiffening +of muscles. Then from the revolver came +a click. Irving had emptied the six chambers +in starting the other races, and had forgotten +to reload.</p> + +<p>“Just a moment, fellows; ease off!” he +called, and they all straightened up and faced +towards him questioningly. “Just till I slip in +a cartridge,” Irving explained with embarrassment.</p> + +<p>Westby turned on him a delighted grin, and +said,—</p> + +<p>“Can I be of any assistance, Mr. Upton?”</p> + +<p>“No, thank you,” said Irving, and having +slipped in one cartridge, he began filling the +other chambers of the revolver.</p> + +<p>“It takes only one shot to start,” observed +Westby.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139"></a><span class="pagenum" title="139"></span>“Yes,” said Irving. “If I fire a second, it +will be to call you back because of a false start.—Now +then,—all ready once more. On your +marks!” They crouched. “Set!” He fired.</p> + +<p>Somehow in the start Westby’s foot slipped, +and in trying to get clear he lunged against +Flack. Irving saw it and instantly fired a second +shot, and shouted, “Come back, come +back!” The runners heeded the signal and the +shout, but as they tiptoed up the track, they +looked irritated.</p> + +<p>“Westby, you fouled Flack.” Irving spoke +with some asperity. “I shall have to set you +back a yard.”</p> + +<p>“It was an accident,” Westby replied warmly. +“My foot slipped. I couldn’t help myself.”</p> + +<p>“But it was a foul,” declared Irving, “and +I shall have to set you back a yard.”</p> + +<p>“It was an accident, I tell you,” repeated +Westby.</p> + +<p>“If it was an accident, you oughtn’t to set +him back,” said Drake, his fellow Corinthian.</p> + +<p>“It’s in the starter’s discretion,” spoke up +Mason, the Pythian.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140"></a><span class="pagenum" title="140"></span>“The penalty’s a yard,” affirmed Irving.</p> + +<p>Westby shut his lips tight and looked angrily +contemptuous. Irving measured the distance. +“There,” he said, “you will start there.”</p> + +<p>Westby took the place behind the others +without a word.</p> + +<p>“Ready now! On your marks!”</p> + +<p>The pistol cracked, and this time they all +got away safely, and Irving raced after them +over the grass.</p> + +<p>From the crowd at the finish came the instant +shout of names; out of the short choppy +cries two names especially emerged, “Flack! +Flack! Flack!” “Westby! Westby! Westby!” +Those two were the favorites for the event. +Irving saw the scratch men forge ahead, and +mingle with the handicap runners; in the confusion +of flying white figures he could not see +who were leading. But the tumult near the +finish grew wild; arms and caps were swung +aloft, boys were leaping up and down; the red-haired +Dennison ran along the edge of the +track, waving his arms; Morrill on the other +side did the same thing; the next moment the +<a name="Page_141" id="Page_141"></a><span class="pagenum" title="141"></span>race had ended in a tumultuous rush of shouting +boys.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 427px;"><a name="Page_140f" id="Page_140f"></a><span class="pagenum" title="Facing 140"></span> +<img src="images/140.jpg" width="427" height="656" alt="[Illustration: AS TO WHO HAD WON, IRVING HAD NOT THE SLIGHTEST IDEA]" title="AS TO WHO HAD WON, IRVING HAD NOT THE SLIGHTEST IDEA" /> +<span>AS TO WHO HAD WON, IRVING HAD NOT THE SLIGHTEST IDEA</span> +</div> + +<p>As to who had won, Irving had not the +slightest idea. He was hastening up to find +out—hoping that it had been Westby. And +then out from the crowd burst Westby and +rushed towards him, panting, flushed, hot-eyed, +attended by Morrill and half a dozen +other Corinthians.</p> + +<p>“I hope you’re satisfied with your spite-work,” +said Westby. His voice shook with +passion, his eyes blazed; never before had +Irving seen him when he had so lost control +of himself. “You lost me that race—by half +a yard! I hope you’re pleased with yourself!”</p> + +<p>He surveyed Irving scornfully, breathing +hard, then turned his back and strode off to +the athletic house.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<div><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a><span class="toclnk"><a href="#CONTENTS">TOC</a></span></div> +<h2><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142"></a><span class="pagenum" title="142"></span>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<h3>THE WORM BEGINS TO TURN</h3> + + +<p>After the charge which Westby had +flung at him so furiously, Irving looked +in amazement to the other boys for an explanation. +They were all Corinthians, and he saw +gloom and resentment in their faces.</p> + +<p>“I think it was pretty rough, Mr. Upton, +to penalize him for an unintentional foul,” +said Morrill. “He’d have beaten Flack if +they’d started even.”</p> + +<p>“But it <em>was</em> a foul,” protested Irving. “So +I had to penalize him. I made it as small a +penalty as I could.”</p> + +<p>“You didn’t have to penalize him unless +you wanted to,” said Morrill grimly. “Of +course you had a perfect right to do as you +pleased, only—” He shrugged his shoulders +and walked away, followed by the other Corinthians.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143"></a><span class="pagenum" title="143"></span>Irving stood stricken. So this was the outcome; +in seeking to be sympathetic and to be +understood, he had only caused himself somehow +to be more hated and despised. Bitterness +rose within him, bitterness against Westby, +against Morrill, against boys in general, against +the school. And only an hour ago, from what +he had seen and heard, he had felt that he +could like Westby, and had been not without +some hope that Westby might some time like +him.</p> + +<p>He saw Barclay standing with Mr. Randolph +by the table on which were the prize +cups; Barclay was bending over, arranging +them, and the boys were gathering on the opposite +side of the track, being “policed back” +by the half-dozen members of the athletic +committee. Evidently the award of prizes was +to be made at once, and either Barclay or +Randolph was to hand out the cups—perhaps +also to make a speech. But Irving could not +wait; he must satisfy himself of his doubts +and fears, and so he hurried forward and +touched Barclay on the shoulder.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144"></a><span class="pagenum" title="144"></span>“Just a moment, please,” he said, as Barclay +turned. “Did I do anything wrong?”</p> + +<p>“You penalized Westby a yard for fouling, +I heard; is that so?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“Well, you were within your rights. But +if it was obviously an unintentional foul, I +shouldn’t have been so strict.”</p> + +<p>“I misunderstood what you told me,” sighed +Irving. “I thought that in case of foul a fellow +<em>had</em> to be penalized.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, no.” Barclay was busy; he had to +think up something to say, by way of a speech, +and he turned and began fussing again with +the cups.</p> + +<p>Irving walked away. Even his friend Barclay +was not sympathetic, did not understand +the seriousness of what had happened. He +could not stay longer to be the target of hostile, +vengeful eyes; he felt that half the boys +there were blaming him in their hearts for the +defeat of their team—and that the others had +no gratitude to him for their victory. Not that +it would have made him feel any better if they<a name="Page_145" id="Page_145"></a><span class="pagenum" title="145"></span> +had; he had only wanted and tried to be +fair.</p> + +<p>He walked away from the field, crossed the +track, and passed round into the avenue that +led up to the School. When he had gone as +far as the bend where from behind the cluster of +trees the School buildings became visible, he +heard the pleasant ripple of laughter from the +crowd. Some one, probably Barclay, was making +a speech; to think of being able to stand +before boys and make them laugh like that! +It seemed to Irving that he had never before +known what envy was.</p> + +<p>He spent a mournful hour in his room; then, +hearing footsteps on the stairs, he closed his +door. The boys were returning from the field; +he felt sure there would be remarks about him +by Westby and Morrill and other Corinthians +up and down the corridor, and he preferred +not to hear them. To his surprise there was +rather less disturbance than usual; perhaps +the boys were too tired after their exciting and +active afternoon to indulge in noisy skylarking. +So Irving did not have to emerge from<a name="Page_146" id="Page_146"></a><span class="pagenum" title="146"></span> +his solitude until the supper bell rang. Even +then he waited until all the boys had passed +his door and were clattering down the stairs. +Yet as he descended, Westby’s indignant voice +floated up to him,—</p> + +<p>“Just because I guyed him—he felt he had +to get even.”</p> + +<p>At supper Westby did not look at Irving. +One of the boys, Blake, made a comment; he +said,—</p> + +<p>“That was a mighty good race you ran, +Westby; hard luck you were handicapped.”</p> + +<p>“You can call it hard luck if you want,” +said Westby.</p> + +<p>“How did it happen, anyway?” Blake +asked, quite innocently.</p> + +<p>“Oh, don’t ask <em>me</em>,” said Westby.</p> + +<p>Three or four of the boys who did know +glanced slyly at Irving, and Irving, though he +had meant to say nothing, spoke up; there was +electricity in the air.</p> + +<p>“Westby was unfortunate enough to foul +Flack at the start; that was all there was to +it,” he said. “I saw it and set him back a<a name="Page_147" id="Page_147"></a><span class="pagenum" title="147"></span> +yard. I was under the impression that in case +of foul a penalty had to be imposed—and I +made the penalty as light as possible.”</p> + +<p>He felt that this statement ought to appease +any reasonable boy. But Westby was not in a +reasonable mood. He paid no attention to +Irving; he addressed the table.</p> + +<p>“I told Scarborough he might have known +things would be botched somehow.”</p> + +<p>“Why?” asked Blake.</p> + +<p>“Oh, you’ve got to have officials who know +their business.”</p> + +<p>There was an interval of silence at the +table; Westby, having fired his shot, sat +straight, with cheeks flushed, looking across +at Blake.</p> + +<p>“Westby feels that he has had provocation +and therefore may be rude.” Irving spoke at +last with calmness. “It’s true that I never +officiated before at any races. At the same +time, I don’t believe I did anything which +some experienced officials would not have +done. There are probably a good many who +believe in penalizing a runner for clumsy and<a name="Page_148" id="Page_148"></a><span class="pagenum" title="148"></span> +stupid interference as well as for deliberate +intent to foul.”</p> + +<p>He had spoken mildly; he did not even +emphasize the words “clumsy and stupid.” +But the retort went home; the Pythians at the +table,—of whom Blake was one,—chuckled; +and Westby, with a deeper shade of crimson +on his face and a sudden compression of his +lips, lowered his eyes.</p> + +<p>Irving had triumphed, but after the first +moment he felt surprisingly little satisfaction +in his triumph. He could not help being sorry +for Westby; the boy was after all right in feeling +that he had been deprived of a victory to +which he had been entitled. And as Irving +looked at his downcast face, he softened still +further; Westby had so often delighted in +humiliating him, and he had longed for the +opportunity of reprisal. Now it had come, and +Westby was humiliated, and the audience were +not unsympathetic with Irving for the achievement; +yet Irving felt already the sting of remorse. +Westby was only a boy, and he was a +master; it was not well for a master to mortify<a name="Page_149" id="Page_149"></a><span class="pagenum" title="149"></span> +a boy in the presence of other boys—a boy +whose disappointment was already keen.</p> + +<p>The letters were distributed; there was one +for Irving from his brother. It contained news +that made the world a different place from +what it had been an hour ago. Lawrence was +playing left end on the Harvard Freshman +football eleven; not only that, but in the first +game of the season, played against a Boston +preparatory school, he had made the only +touchdown. He added that that didn’t mean +much, for he had got the ball on a fluke; +still, the tone of the letter was excited and +elated.</p> + +<p>And it excited and elated Irving. He folded +the letter and put it in his pocket; he sat for +a moment looking out of the window with +dreamy eyes and an unconscious smile. Lawrence +was succeeding, was going to succeed, +in a way far different from his own—if his +own college course could be said in any sense +to have terminated in success. Lawrence would +have the athletic and the social experience +which he had never had; Lawrence would be<a name="Page_150" id="Page_150"></a><span class="pagenum" title="150"></span> +popular as he had never been; Lawrence would +go brilliantly through college as he had never +done. Everything now was in Lawrence’s reach, +and he was a boy who would not be spoiled or +led astray by the achievement of temporary +glories.</p> + +<p>In the vision of his brother’s triumphant +career, Irving was transported from the troubles +and perplexities, from the self-reproaches +and the doubts which had been making him +unhappy. He wanted now to share his happiness, +to take the boys into his confidence—but +one can share one’s happiness only with +one’s friends. There was Westby, aggrieved +and hostile; there was Carroll, sitting next to +him, the queer, quizzical, silent youth, with +whom Irving had been entirely unable to establish +any relation of intimacy; no, there were +no boys at his table with whom he was intimate +enough to appeal for their interest and congratulations. +And feeling this, he shrank from +communicating the news,—though he felt +sure that even Westby, who was going to +Harvard the next year, might be interested<a name="Page_151" id="Page_151"></a><span class="pagenum" title="151"></span> +in it; he shrank from anything like boasting. +He found an outlet soon; Barclay came +to see him that evening.</p> + +<p>“I looked for you this afternoon, after the +giving out of the prizes,” said Barclay. “But +I couldn’t find you.”</p> + +<p>“No, I didn’t wait for that. Did you make +a speech? I heard the boys laughing and +cheering as I came away.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, I got off a few stale jokes and +some heavy-footed persiflage. It went well +enough.—But I looked for you afterwards +because I felt I may have seemed rather short +when you came up; the truth is, I was racking +my brain at that moment; Scarborough had +just sprung the fact on me that I must make +the speech.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, it was all right,” said Irving. “I’m +sorry to have bothered you at such a time. I +was just a little agitated because Westby was +rather angry over being penalized in the hundred—”</p> + +<p>“So I hear. Well, it was hard luck in a way—but +after all you had a perfect right to pe<a name="Page_152" id="Page_152"></a><span class="pagenum" title="152"></span>nalize +him; he did foul, and he ought to be +sport enough to take the consequences.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose it wouldn’t have been—it +wouldn’t be possible to run the race over?”</p> + +<p>“Certainly not. Besides, Westby has no +right to say that if he’d started even with +Flack, he’d have beaten him. It’s true that he +gained half a yard on Flack in the race; but +it’s also true that Flack knew he had that +much leeway. There’s no telling how much +more Flack might have done if he’d had to. +So if Westby says anything to me, I shall tell +him just that.”</p> + +<p>“I feel sorry about the thing anyway. I’m +sorry I made a mess of it—as usual.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, cheer up; it’s not going to do you +any harm with the fellows. A little momentary +flash from Westby and Morrill—”</p> + +<p>“No, I wasn’t thinking of myself.”</p> + +<p>“You weren’t!” The bluntness of Barclay’s +exclamation of astonishment caused Irving to +blush, and Barclay himself, realizing what he +had betrayed to Irving’s perception, looked +embarrassed. But Irving laughed.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153"></a><span class="pagenum" title="153"></span>“I don’t wonder you’re surprised. I guess +that’s been the worst trouble with me here—thinking +about myself. And that was what +was troubling me when I went to you this +afternoon. But it isn’t any longer. I feel bad +about Westby. I can’t help thinking I did rob +him of his race—and then I sat on him at +supper into the bargain.”</p> + +<p>Barclay shouted with laughter. “You sat +on Westby—and you’re sorry for it! What’s +happened to you, anyway? Tell me about it.”</p> + +<p>Irving narrated the circumstances. “And I +want to be friendly with him,” he concluded. +“Don’t you think I might explain that it +was a blunder on my part—and that I’m +sorry I blundered?”</p> + +<p>“I wouldn’t,” said Barclay. “He’s beginning +to respect you now. Don’t do anything +to make him think you’re a little soft. That’s +what he wants to think, and he’d construe any +such move on your part unfavorably.”</p> + +<p>“Well, perhaps so.” Irving sighed.</p> + +<p>“You’re stiffening up quite a lot,” observed +Barclay.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154"></a><span class="pagenum" title="154"></span>“I was very wobbly when Westby and the +other fellows went for me after that race,” +confessed Irving. “If I stiffened up, I guess +it was just the courage of desperation. And I +don’t think that amounts to much. But I’ve +cheered up for good now.”</p> + +<p>“How’s that?”</p> + +<p>Somewhat shyly Irving communicated the +proud news about his brother.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I read about him in to-day’s Boston +newspaper,” exclaimed Barclay.</p> + +<p>“What?” asked Irving. “Where was it? +I didn’t see it.”</p> + +<p>“You probably don’t read all the football +news, as I do. But you will after this.” Barclay +laughed. “Yes, there was quite an account of +that game, and Upton was mentioned as being +the bright particular star on the Freshman +team. It never occurred to me that he was +your brother.”</p> + +<p>“Naturally not. I wish I could get away +to see the game with the Yale Freshmen; +I’ve never seen Lawrence play. But I don’t +suppose I could manage that, could I?”</p> + +<p><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155"></a><span class="pagenum" title="155"></span>Barclay looked doubtful. “The rector’s +pretty strict with the masters as well as with +the boys. Especially when a man has charge +of a dormitory. I somehow think it wouldn’t +be wise to try it,—your first term.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose not. Well, I shall certainly read +the football columns from now on.”</p> + +<p>“I wonder,” remarked Barclay, “if we +couldn’t get the Harvard Freshmen up here +to play a practice game with our School eleven—say, +the week before the St. John’s game? +It would be good practice for them as well as +for us; three or four years ago the Freshmen +played here.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I wish we could.” Irving’s face lighted +up. “I’ll write to my brother, and perhaps he +can arrange it with the captain and manager.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll talk it over with Collingwood first,” +said Barclay. “And then we’ll proceed officially; +and you can pull any additional wires +that are possible through your brother.” He +rose to go. “I shouldn’t wonder,” he added, +“if that brother of yours turned out to be a +useful asset for you here.”</p> + +<p><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156"></a><span class="pagenum" title="156"></span>“I should prefer to stand on my own legs,” +said Irving. “I shan’t advertise it round that +I have a football brother.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, it won’t be necessary for you to do +that; things have a way of leaking out.” +Barclay laughed as he took his departure.</p> + +<p>As it happened, the next day Louis Collingwood, +the captain of the School eleven, went +to Barclay to consult him about the outlook +for the season.</p> + +<p>“It seems to me we’ll have a good School +team,” said Collingwood, “but no second +eleven capable of giving them hard practice—the +kind they’ll need to beat St. John’s. +If we could only arrange one or two games +with outside teams, to put us into shape—”</p> + +<p>“I was thinking of that,” said Barclay. “I +wonder if we mightn’t get the Harvard Freshmen +up here. They have a good eleven, apparently.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, awfully good, from all that the papers +say. Don’t you suppose their schedule is filled +up?”</p> + +<p>“It may be—but perhaps they could give<a name="Page_157" id="Page_157"></a><span class="pagenum" title="157"></span> +us a date. Suppose you come over to my house +this evening and we’ll send a letter off to +their captain. And I’m sure”—Barclay +threw the remark out in the most casual manner—“Mr. +Upton will be glad to approach +them for us through his brother.”</p> + +<p>“His brother? Who’s that?”</p> + +<p>“Why, didn’t you know? His brother plays +left end on the team—”</p> + +<p>“Kiddy Upton’s brother on the Harvard +Freshmen! No!”</p> + +<p>“Whose brother?”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Upton’s, I meant to say.” Louis +grinned. “Is he really, Mr. Barclay?”</p> + +<p>“I’m rather surprised you didn’t know it. +But I guess Mr. Upton is the kind that doesn’t +talk much.”</p> + +<p>“I should think he’d have let that out.”</p> + +<p>“Well, he let it out to me. I suspect—though +he hasn’t told me—that he’s helping +to put his brother through college. And his +success in doing that will naturally depend +largely on his success or failure here as a +master.”</p> + +<p><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158"></a><span class="pagenum" title="158"></span>“You mean—keeping his job?”</p> + +<p>Barclay nodded. “Yes. Oh, I don’t suppose +there’s any real doubt about that. He’s a +perfectly competent teacher, isn’t he? You +know; you have a class with him.”</p> + +<p>“Ye-es,” said Louis, slowly. “The trouble +has been, the fellows horse him a good deal—though +not quite so much as they did.”</p> + +<p>“They’ll get over that when they know +him better,” remarked Barclay.</p> + +<p>He knew that Louis Collingwood went away +feeling much impressed, and he was pretty +sure he had done Irving a good turn.</p> + +<p>It was in the noon half-hour, while Collingwood +was holding this interview with Mr. +Barclay, that Westby, reading the Harvard +news in his Boston paper, went giggling into +Morrill’s room.</p> + +<p>“There’s a fellow named Upton playing on +the Freshmen.” He showed Morrill the name. +“Let’s get a crowd and go in to Kiddy; I’ll +get him rattled.”</p> + +<p>“How?” asked Morrill.</p> + +<p>“Oh, ask him if this fellow’s a relation of<a name="Page_159" id="Page_159"></a><span class="pagenum" title="159"></span> +his, and say I supposed of course he must be—such +athletic prowess, and all that sort of +thing; with a crowd standing there giggling +you know how rattled he’ll get.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” said Morrill, who was an earnest +admirer of Westby’s wit.</p> + +<p>So they collected Dennison and Smythe and +Allison and Carroll and Scarborough, and +marched up the corridor—humorously tramping +in step—to Irving’s door. There Westby, +newspaper in hand, knocked. Irving opened +the door.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Upton, sir,” began Westby, “sorry to +disturb you, sir.” The boys all began to grin, +and Irving saw that he was in for some carefully +planned attack. “I was just reading my +morning paper, sir, and I wanted to ask you +what relation to you the man named Upton +is that’s playing on the Harvard Freshman +eleven, sir.”</p> + +<p>Irving’s eyes twinkled; if ever the enemy +had been delivered into his hands!</p> + +<p>“What makes you think he’s a relation?” +he asked, with an assumption of cold dignity.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160"></a><span class="pagenum" title="160"></span>“Oh, we all feel sure he must be, sir. Of +course your well-known and justly famous interest +in all athletic sports, sir—not to say +your prowess in them, sir—it’s natural to +suppose that any athlete named Upton would +belong to the same family with you, sir.”</p> + +<p>The boys were all on the broad grin; +Westby’s manner was so expansively courteous, +his compliments were so absurdly urbane, that +Irving threw off his air of coldness and adopted +a jaunty manner of reply which was even +more misleading.</p> + +<p>“Oh, well, if you’ve been so clever as to +guess it, Westby,” he said, “I don’t mind +telling you—it’s my brother.”</p> + +<p>Westby bestowed on his confederates—quite +indifferent as to whether Irving detected +it or not—his slow, facetious wink. He returned +then to his victim and in his most +gamesome manner said,—</p> + +<p>“I supposed of course it was your brother, +sir. Or at least I should have supposed so, except +that I didn’t know you had a brother at +Harvard. Wasn’t it rather—what shall I say?<a name="Page_161" id="Page_161"></a><span class="pagenum" title="161"></span>—<em>peu +aimable</em> not to have taken us, your +friends, into your confidence? Would you mind +telling us, sir, what your brother’s first name +is?”</p> + +<p>“My brother’s first name? Lawrence.”</p> + +<p>“Hm!” said Westby, referring to his newspaper. +“I find him set down here as ‘T. Upton.’ +But I suppose that is a misprint, of +course.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose it must be,” agreed Irving.</p> + +<p>“Newspapers are always making mistakes, +aren’t they?” said Westby. “Such careless +fellows! We’d like awfully to hear more +about your brother Lawrence, Mr. Upton.”</p> + +<p>The broad grin broke into a snicker.</p> + +<p>“Why, I don’t know just what there is to +tell,” Irving said awkwardly.</p> + +<p>“What does he look like, sir? Does he resemble +you very much?—I mean, apart from +the family fondness for athletics.”</p> + +<p>Irving’s lips twitched; Westby was enjoying +so thoroughly his revenge! And the other +boys were all stifling their amusement.</p> + +<p>“We are said not to look very much alike,”<a name="Page_162" id="Page_162"></a><span class="pagenum" title="162"></span> +he answered. “He is of a somewhat heavier +build.”</p> + +<p>“He must be somewhat lacking, then, in +grace and agility, sir,” said Westby; and the +boys broke into a shout, and Irving gave way +to a faint smile.</p> + +<p>At that moment Collingwood came up the +stairs.</p> + +<p>“Hello, Lou,” said Westby, with a welcoming +wink. “We’re just congratulating Mr. +Upton on his brother; did you know that he +has a brother playing on the Harvard Freshmen?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Collingwood. “I’ve just heard +it from Mr. Barclay.”</p> + +<p>The boys stared at Collingwood, then at Irving, +whose eyes were twinkling again and +whose smile had widened. Then they looked +at Westby; he was gazing at Collingwood +unbelievingly,—stupefied.</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter with you?” asked +Collingwood.</p> + +<p>And then Irving broke out into a delighted +peal of laughter. He could find nothing but<a name="Page_163" id="Page_163"></a><span class="pagenum" title="163"></span> +slang in which to express himself, and through +his laughter he ejaculated,—</p> + +<p>“Stung, my young friend! Stung!”</p> + +<p>They all gave a whoop; they swung Westby +round and rushed him down the corridor to his +room, shouting and jeering.</p> + +<p>When Irving went down to lunch, Carroll, +the quizzical, silent Carroll, welcomed him with +a grin. Westby turned a bright pink and +looked away. At the next table Allison and +Smythe and Scarborough were all looking +over at him and smiling; and at the table beyond +that Collingwood and Morrill and Dennison +were craning their necks and exhibiting +their joy. Westby, the humorist, had suddenly +become the butt, a position which he had +rarely occupied before.</p> + +<p>He was quite subdued through that meal. +Once in the middle of it, Irving looked at him +and caught his eye, and on a sudden impulse +leaned back and laughed. Carroll joined in, +Westby blushed once more, the Sixth Formers +at the next table looked over and began to +laugh; the other boys cast wondering glances.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164"></a><span class="pagenum" title="164"></span>“What’s the joke, Mr. Upton?” asked +Blake.</p> + +<p>“Oh, don’t ask <em>me</em>,” said Irving. “Ask +Westby.”</p> + +<p>“What is it, Wes?” said Blake, and could +not understand why he received such a vicious +kick under the table, or why Carroll said in +such a jeering way, “Yes, Wes, what <em>is</em> the +joke, anyhow?”</p> + +<p>When the meal was over, Westby’s friends +lay in wait for him outside in the hall, crowded +round, and began patting him on the back +and offering him their jocular sympathy. To +have the joke turned on the professional humorist +appeared to be extremely popular; and +the humorist did not take it very well. “Oh, +get out, get out!” he was saying, wrenching +himself from the grasp of first one and then +another. And Irving came out just as he exclaimed +in desperation, “Just the same, I’ll +bet it’s all a fake; I’ll bet he hasn’t got a +brother!”</p> + +<p>He flung himself around, trying to escape<a name="Page_165" id="Page_165"></a><span class="pagenum" title="165"></span> +from Collingwood’s clutch, and saw Irving. +The smile faded from Irving’s face; Westby +looked at him sullenly for a moment, then +broke away and made a rush up the stairs.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<div><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a><span class="toclnk"><a href="#CONTENTS">TOC</a></span></div> +<h2><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166"></a><span class="pagenum" title="166"></span>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<h3>THE HARVARD FRESHMAN</h3> + + +<p>For two or three days the intercourse +between Irving and Westby was of the +most formal sort. At table they held no communication +with each other; in the class-room +Irving gave Westby every chance to recite and +conscientiously helped him through the recitation +as much as he did any one else; in the +dormitory they exchanged a cold good-night. +Irving did not press Westby for a retraction +of the charge which he had overheard the boy +make; it seemed to him unworthy to dignify +it by taking such notice of it. He knew that +none of the boys really believed it and that +Westby himself did not believe it, but had +been goaded into the declaration in the desperate +effort to maintain a false position. Irving +wondered if the boy would not have the fairness +to make some acknowledgment of the<a name="Page_167" id="Page_167"></a><span class="pagenum" title="167"></span> +injustice into which his pride had provoked +him.</p> + +<p>And one day at luncheon, Westby turned +to Irving and with an embarrassed smile said,</p> + +<p>“Mr. Upton, do you get any news from +your brother about the Harvard Freshman +eleven?”</p> + +<p>Carroll directed at Westby the quizzical look +under which Irving had so often suffered. But +Westby did not flinch; he waited for Irving’s +answer, with his embarrassed, appealing smile.</p> + +<p>“I had a letter from him this morning,” +said Irving. “He writes that there is a chance +of their coming up here to play the School +eleven; I had asked him if that couldn’t be +arranged.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, really!” exclaimed Westby, in a tone +of honest interest.</p> + +<p>“When, Mr. Upton?” “Does he think +they’ll come?” “Does Lou Collingwood know +about it?”</p> + +<p>“I guess he knows as much as I do.” Irving +tried to answer the flood of questions. “He +wrote officially to the captain at the same time<a name="Page_168" id="Page_168"></a><span class="pagenum" title="168"></span> +that I wrote to Lawrence. If they come at all, +it will be about a week before the St. John’s +game.”</p> + +<p>“When shall we know for sure?” asked +Westby.</p> + +<p>“It appears to be a question whether the +Freshmen will choose to play us or Lakeview +School. They want to play whichever team +seems the stronger, and they’re going to +discuss the prospects and decide in a few +days.”</p> + +<p>“I’m sure we’re better than Lakeview,” declared +Blake. “You’ll tell your brother we +are, won’t you, Mr. Upton?”</p> + +<p>“I’ll tell him that I understand we have a +very superior team,” said Irving. “I fancy +he knows that it’s as much as I can do to tell +the difference between a quarterback and a +goal post.”</p> + +<p>“You will admit, then, that there was some +reason for my not believing you had a football +brother, won’t you, Mr. Upton?” Westby +tried thus to beat a not wholly inglorious retreat.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169"></a><span class="pagenum" title="169"></span>“Every reason—until it became a matter +of doubting my word,” said Irving.</p> + +<p>Westby crimsoned, and Irving felt that again +he had been too severe with him; the boy had +been trying to convey an apology, without +actually making one; it might have been well +to let him off.</p> + +<p>But Irving reflected that the account was +still far from even and that perhaps this unwonted +adversity might be good for Westby. +Irving did not realize quite how much teasing +had been visited upon Westby in consequence +of his disastrous error, or how humiliated the +boy had been in his heart. For Westby was +proud and vain and sensitive, accustomed to +leadership, unused to ridicule; for two days +now the shafts of those whom he had been in +the habit of chaffing with impunity had been +rankling. Because of this sensitive condition, +the final rebuke at the luncheon table, before +all the boys, cut him more deeply than Irving +suspected. Afterwards Westby said to Carroll,—</p> + +<p>“Oh, very well. If he couldn’t accept my<a name="Page_170" id="Page_170"></a><span class="pagenum" title="170"></span> +acknowledgment of my mistake, but had to +jump on me again—well, it’s just spite on +his part; that’s all. I don’t care; I can let +him alone after this. That seems to be what +he wants.”</p> + +<p>“A month ago he wouldn’t have asked more +than that of you,” observed Carroll. “And you +didn’t feel like obliging him then.”</p> + +<p>The implication that Irving had worsted +him galled Westby.</p> + +<p>“Oh,” he retorted, “the best of jokes will +wear out. Kiddy was a perfectly good joke for +a while—”</p> + +<p>Carroll annoyed him by laughing.</p> + +<p>For one who had hitherto been indifferent +to all forms of athletics, Irving developed a +surprising interest in the game of football. +Every afternoon he went to the field and +watched the practice of the Pythian and Corinthian +elevens. He had once thought the forward +pass a detail incapable of engaging one’s +serious attention, and worthy of rebuke if +attempted in dormitory; but after Lawrence +wrote that in executing it he was acquiring<a name="Page_171" id="Page_171"></a><span class="pagenum" title="171"></span> +some proficiency, Irving studied it with a more +curious eye.</p> + +<p>He wondered if Lawrence was as skillful at +it as Collingwood, for instance; Collingwood +had now learned to shoot the ball with accuracy +twenty or twenty-five yards. Occasionally +Irving got hold of a football and tested his +own capacity in throwing it; his attempts convinced +him that in this matter he had a great +deal to learn. Looking back, he could comprehend +Louis Collingwood’s indignation and +amazement at a master who would coldly turn +away when a boy was trying to illustrate for +him the forward pass.</p> + +<p>One afternoon from watching the football +practice Irving moved aside for a little while +to see the finish of the autumn clay-pigeon +shoot of the Gun Club.</p> + +<p>There were only six contestants, and there +were not many spectators; most of the boys +preferred to stay on the football field, where +there was more action; the second Pythians +and second Corinthians were playing a match. +But Irving had heard Westby talking at<a name="Page_172" id="Page_172"></a><span class="pagenum" title="172"></span> +luncheon about the shoot and strolled over +more from curiosity to see how he would acquit +himself than for any other reason.</p> + +<p>The trap was set in the long grass on the +edge of the meadow near the woods; Allison +was performing the unexciting task of pulling +the string and releasing the skimming disks. +When Irving came up, Smythe was finishing; +he did not appear to be much of a shot, for he +missed three out of the seven “birds” which +Irving saw him try for.</p> + +<p>Then it was Westby’s turn. Westby had +got himself up for the occasion, in a Norfolk +jacket and knickerbockers and leggings; he +was always scrupulous about appearing in costumes +that were extravagantly correct. He saw +Irving and somewhat ostentatiously turned +away.</p> + +<p>Irving waited and looked on. Westby stood +in an almost negligent attitude, with his gun +lowered; the trap was sprung, the clay pigeon +flew—and then was shattered in the midst of +its flight. It seemed to Irving that Westby +hardly brought his gun to his shoulder to take<a name="Page_173" id="Page_173"></a><span class="pagenum" title="173"></span> +aim. It could not all be luck either; that was evident +when Westby demolished ten clay pigeons +in rapid succession. It was Carroll’s turn now; +Westby, having made his perfect score, blew +the smoke from the breech and stood by.</p> + +<p>Irving went up to him.</p> + +<p>“I congratulate you on your shooting, +Westby,” he said. “It seems quite wonderful +to a man who never fired a gun off but a few +times in his life—and then it was a revolver, +with blank cartridges.”</p> + +<p>Westby looked at him coolly. “It’s funny +you’ve never done anything that most fellows +do,” he observed. “Were you always afraid +of hurting yourself?”</p> + +<p>“I was offering my congratulations, Westby,” +said Irving stiffly, and walked away.</p> + +<p>“Why did you go at him like that?” asked +Carroll, who had heard the interchange.</p> + +<p>“Oh,” said Westby, “I wasn’t going to have +him hanging round swiping to me, soft-soaping +me.”</p> + +<p>“I think he was only trying to be decent,” +said Carroll.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174"></a><span class="pagenum" title="174"></span>“I like a man who is decent without trying,” +Westby retorted.</p> + +<p>Yet whether his nerves were a little upset +by the episode or his eye thrown off by the +wait, Westby did not do so well in the next +round. The trap was set to send the birds +skimming lower and faster; Westby missed +two out of ten, and was tied for first place with +Carroll. And in the final shoot to break the +tie, Westby lost.</p> + +<p>He shook hands with Carroll, but with no +excess of good humor. He knew he was really +the better shot, and even though Carroll was +his closest friend, the defeat rankled.</p> + +<p>At supper Blake congratulated Carroll across +the table.</p> + +<p>“You won, did you, Carroll?” asked Irving.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir—by a close shave.”</p> + +<p>“I’m sorry I didn’t stay to see it.” The +remark was innocent in intention, but to Westby +it seemed edged with malice—as if the master +was exulting over his defeat.</p> + +<p>Something in Westby’s expression told Irving +what the boy had inferred; Irving went<a name="Page_175" id="Page_175"></a><span class="pagenum" title="175"></span> +afterwards to his room in a despondent mood. +It didn’t matter how hard he tried or what +he did; he had not the faculty of winning and +holding affection and respect. As it was with +boys, so it would be with men. If only he +could see how and why he failed, and could +learn to correct his mistakes!</p> + +<p>He felt of more importance in the School +world when a letter from Lawrence was the +first announcement that the Freshman eleven +would come to play St. Timothy’s. He asked +Collingwood if he had had any word, and when +Collingwood said no, he told him his brother’s +message.</p> + +<p>“I don’t believe there can be any mistake,” +said Irving. “He writes that it was decided +only the night before. You’ll probably receive +the official communication in a day or +two.”</p> + +<p>Collingwood was tremendously elated. “I +knew we were better than Lakeview—but I +was afraid they wouldn’t realize it,” he said. +“Now we’ll have to get ready and beat them. +Anyway, if we can’t do that, it will be the<a name="Page_176" id="Page_176"></a><span class="pagenum" title="176"></span> +best kind of preparation for the St. John’s +game.”</p> + +<p>The official communication arrived; Collingwood +rushed with it to the bulletin board in +the Study building and posted it for all eyes +to see. The same day he posted the School +eleven, as it would line up in that game.</p> + +<p>Westby was to be first substitute for Dennison +at right half back. Westby had been +playing a streaky game on the First Corinthians; +on some days he was as brilliant a runner +and tackler as there was in the School, +and on other days he would lose interest and +miss everything.</p> + +<p>If he was disappointed at the preference +given to Dennison, he did not show it; in fact, +that he appeared on the list as substitute +seemed to fill him with elation. He had never +taken football quite so seriously as some of the +others—as Collingwood and Dennison, for example; +and therefore only a moderate success +in it was for him a matter of gratification.</p> + +<p>The training table was organized at once, +but Westby was not admitted to it. There was<a name="Page_177" id="Page_177"></a><span class="pagenum" title="177"></span> +not room for the substitutes; they were expected +to do their own training. Westby was +notoriously lax in that matter and had to be +nagged constantly by Collingwood, whom he +found some pleasure in teasing.</p> + +<p>He would secure some forbidden article of +food and ostentatiously appear to be eating it +with the greatest enjoyment until he caught +Collingwood’s eye; a large circular doughnut +or a chocolate éclair delicately poised between +his thumb and finger were his favorite instruments +for torturing his captain’s peace of mind. +He would contrive to be seen just as he was +on the point of taking the first bite; then he +would reluctantly lay the tidbit down.</p> + +<p>“It’s a hard life, this being a near athlete,” +he grumbled. “Sitting at a table with a lot of +uncongenial pups like you fellows.—Mr. Upton, +Blake’s kicking me; make him quit, sir.—Not +allowed to eat half the things the rest of you +do, and not allowed either to get any of the +training-table grub. Well, I never did think +of self, so I can endure it better than most.”</p> + +<p>The others jeered. But Westby, however he<a name="Page_178" id="Page_178"></a><span class="pagenum" title="178"></span> +might complain, was faithful at practice and +accepted good-naturedly his position upon +the second eleven, and the hard battering to +which every one on the second eleven was subjected.</p> + +<p>The day when he got round Morrill, the +first eleven’s left end, and scored a touchdown—the +only one which in that week of practice +the second eleven scored—brought him so +much applause that he began really to think +there might be a chance of his ousting Dennison +from the regular position. When that notion +entered his head he ceased to be facetious +about the training; he became suddenly as +serious as Collingwood himself. But in spite +of that, he remained Dennison’s substitute.</p> + +<p>The Saturday set for the game with the +Harvard Freshmen was an Indian Summer day. +In the early morning mist wreathed the low +meadows and the edges of the pond; it seemed +later to dissipate itself through all the windless +air in haze. The distant hills were blue and +faint, the elms in the soft sunlight that filtered +down had a more golden glow.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179"></a><span class="pagenum" title="179"></span>“Great day,” was the salutation that one +heard everywhere; “great day for the game.”</p> + +<p>Now and then in his morning classes Irving’s +thoughts would wander, there would be a +gentle rush of excitement in his veins. He would +turn his mind firmly back to his work; he did +not do any less well that day because his heart +was singing happily.</p> + +<p>In three hours more—in two—in one—he +was going to see Lawrence again; he wondered +if he would find his brother much changed. +Only two months had passed since they had +parted; yet in that time how remote Lawrence +had grown in Irving’s eyes from the Lawrence +of the Ohio farm!</p> + +<p>The bell announcing the noon recess rang; +Irving dismissed his last class. He hurried +down the stairs almost as madly as the Fourth +Formers themselves; the train on which the +Harvard Freshmen were coming was due ten +minutes before; already Lawrence and the +others must have started on the two-mile drive +out to the School.</p> + +<p>In front of the Study building most of the<a name="Page_180" id="Page_180"></a><span class="pagenum" title="180"></span> +older boys and many of the younger were congregated, +awaiting the arrival of the visitors. +Irving walked about among the groups impatiently, +now and then looking at his watch. +He passed Westby and Collingwood, who were +standing together by the gate.</p> + +<p>“Pretty nearly time for them, Mr. Upton,” +said Westby. “Feeling nervous, sir?”</p> + +<p>There was more good nature in his smile +than he had displayed towards Irving since +the day of the track games.</p> + +<p>“A little,” Irving admitted, and at that moment +some one shouted, “Here they come!”</p> + +<p>Over the crest of the hill galloped four +horses, drawing a long red barge crowded +with boys. Collingwood climbed up on the +gate-post.</p> + +<p>“Now, fellows,” he said, “when they get +here, give three times three for the Freshmen.”</p> + +<p>The boys waited in silence. Irving strained +his eyes, trying to distinguish the figures +huddled together in the barge. The horses +came down at a run, with a rattle of hoofs and<a name="Page_181" id="Page_181"></a><span class="pagenum" title="181"></span> +harness; the driver flourished his whip over +them spectacularly.</p> + +<p>“Now then, fellows!” cried Collingwood. +“Three times three for the Freshmen!”</p> + +<p>And amidst the waving of caps as the +cheers were given, Irving could see no one in +the barge. Then when that cheer had subsided, +one of the visitors stood up and took +off his hat and shouted,—</p> + +<p>“Three times three for St. Timothy’s! One—two—three!” +The fellows in the barge +sent up a vigorous, snappy cheer, and then +overflowed at back and sides. In the confusion +and the crowd, Irving was still straining +his short-sighted eyes in a vain attempt to +discover Lawrence.</p> + +<p>Suddenly he heard a shout,—“Hello, Irv!”—and +there, a little way off, was Lawrence, +laughing at him and struggling towards him +through the throng. The boys understood +and drew apart and let the two brothers +meet.</p> + +<p>“It’s great to see you again, Irv,” said +Lawrence, when he could reach and grasp his<a name="Page_182" id="Page_182"></a><span class="pagenum" title="182"></span> +brother’s hand; he looked at Irving with the +same old loving humor in his eyes.</p> + +<p>“It’s great to see you again, Lawrence,” +said Irving. He could not help being a little +conscious and constrained, with so many eyes +upon him.</p> + +<p>He tucked one hand in his brother’s arm +and with the other reached for Lawrence’s +bag. Lawrence laughed, and with hardly an +effort detached it from Irving’s grasp.</p> + +<p>“<em>You</em> carry that, you little fellow! I guess +not,” he said.</p> + +<p>Some of the boys heard and smiled, and +Lawrence threw back at them a humorous +smile; Irving blushed. He led Lawrence away, +towards the Upper School. The other Freshmen +were being conducted in the same direction +by Collingwood and his team.</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Westby to Carroll in an outpouring +of slang from the heart, “Kiddy’s +brother is certainly a peach of a good looker. +I hope he’ll bring him to lunch.”</p> + + + +<hr /> +<div><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a><span class="toclnk"><a href="#CONTENTS">TOC</a></span></div> +<h2><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183"></a><span class="pagenum" title="183"></span>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<h3>WESTBY IN THE GAME</h3> + + +<p>It was with satisfaction that Westby and +Carroll saw Lawrence entering the dining-room +with Irving. They had observed the +long table spread in the common room of the +Upper School, where the visiting team were +to be entertained at luncheon, and had supposed +therefore that they would have no +chance of satisfying their curiosity about the +master’s brother.</p> + +<p>When Irving introduced Lawrence to them, +Westby said,—</p> + +<p>“We hoped we were going to see you here, +but we were afraid you might have to eat +outside with your team.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I got special permission from the +captain for this occasion,” said Lawrence. +“I’m afraid I’m depriving somebody of his +seat,” he added to Irving.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184"></a><span class="pagenum" title="184"></span>“It’s Caldwell—I arranged with him about +it. He’s gone to Mr. Randolph’s table.”</p> + +<p>“Besides, he’s only a Fourth Former,” said +Westby.</p> + +<p>Lawrence laughed. “You’re Sixth, I suppose?” +Westby nodded. “Going to Harvard +next year?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“Good for you. I’ll tell you one thing; +you couldn’t have a better man to get you in +than this brother of mine—if I do say it. +He tutored me for Harvard—and I guess +you’ve never had a worse blockhead, have +you, Irv?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, you were all right in some things, +Lawrence.”</p> + +<p>“I’d like to know what. How I used to try +your patience, though!” Lawrence chuckled, +then turned and addressed the boys, especially +Westby and Carroll, as they were the oldest. +“Did any of you ever see him mad?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, surely never that,” said Westby urbanely. +“Irritated perhaps, but not mad—never +lacking in self-control.”</p> + +<p><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185"></a><span class="pagenum" title="185"></span>Westby, thinking himself safe, ventured +upon his humorous wink to Blake and the +others who were grinning; Lawrence intercepted +it and at once fixed Westby with a +penetrating gaze.</p> + +<p>Westby colored and looked down; Lawrence +held his eyes on him until Westby looked up +and then, in even greater embarrassment under +this prolonged scrutiny, down again. Then +Lawrence turned to his brother.</p> + +<p>“Tell me, Irv,” he said in a tone that simply +brushed aside as non-existent everybody +else at the table—just as if he and his brother +were talking together alone, “what sort of +kids do you have to look after in your dormitory, +anyhow?”</p> + +<p>Irving’s lip twitched with amusement; +Westby, still scarlet, was looking at his plate. +“Oh, a pretty good sort—but they’re Sixth +Formers, you know—not kids.”</p> + +<p>“Pretty fresh, are they—trying to show +off a good deal and be funny?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, one or two only; still, even they +aren’t bad.”</p> + +<p><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186"></a><span class="pagenum" title="186"></span>Lawrence paid no further attention to +Westby. Now and then he spoke to Carroll +and to Blake, but most of his conversation—and +it dealt with the sort of college life about +which boys liked to hear, and about which +Irving had never been able to enlighten them—he +addressed directly to his brother.</p> + +<p>Westby listened to it gloomily; there were +many questions that he wanted to ask, but +now he did not dare. Evidently Mr. Upton had +warned his brother against him, had imparted +to his brother his own dislike; that was why +Lawrence had nipped so brutally his harmless, +humorous allusion to the master’s temper.</p> + +<p>As a matter of fact, Lawrence had had +no previous knowledge whatever of Westby; +Irving had always withstood his impulse to +confide his troubles. He made now an effort +to draw Westby forward and reinstate him in +the conversation; he said,—</p> + +<p>“Lawrence, you and Westby here may come +against each other this afternoon; Westby’s +first substitute for one of the half-backs on +the School eleven.”</p> + +<p><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187"></a><span class="pagenum" title="187"></span>Lawrence said, “That’s good,” and gave +Westby hardly a glance.</p> + +<p>After luncheon, walking down to the athletic +field with Westby, Carroll said jeeringly,—</p> + +<p>“Well, Kiddy Upton’s brother is no myth, +is he, Wes?”</p> + +<p>At that Westby began to splutter. “Conceited +chump! He makes me tired. Of all the +fresh things—to sit up there and talk about +the ‘kids’ in Kiddy’s dormitory!”</p> + +<p>Carroll laughed in his silent, irritating way. +“He certainly put you down and out—a good +hard one. Why, even Kiddy was sorry for you.”</p> + +<p>Westby went on fuming. “Sorry for me! +I guess Kiddy had been whining to him about +how I’d worried him. That’s why the chump +had it in for me.”</p> + +<p>“Chump, Wes! Such a peach of a good +looker?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, shut up. I don’t care if he is good +looking; he’s fresher than paint.”</p> + +<p>“He would think that was a queer criticism +for you to make.”</p> + +<p><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188"></a><span class="pagenum" title="188"></span>Westby stalked on in angry silence. He +was more wounded than he could let Carroll +know. There was a side to him which he shrank +from displaying,—the gentle, affectionate side +of which Irving had had a glimpse when the +boy was anxiously watching his young cousin +Price in the mile run; and to this quality +Lawrence’s greeting of his brother had unconsciously +appealed. Westby had stood by and +heard his words, “<em>You</em> carry that, you little +fellow!” had seen the humor in his eyes +and the gentleness on his lips, and had felt +something in his own throat.</p> + +<p>For all his affectation of worldliness and cynicism, +the boy was a hero-worshiper at heart, +and could never resist being attracted by a fine +face and a handsome pair of eyes and a pleasant +voice; Lawrence had in the first glance awakened +an enthusiasm which was eager for near +acquaintance. And now, although he talked +so venomously against him, it was not Lawrence +whom he reproached in his heart; it was himself.</p> + +<p>Why had he been unable to resist the im<a name="Page_189" id="Page_189"></a><span class="pagenum" title="189"></span>pulse +to be smart, to be funny, to be cheap? +He might have known that a fellow like Lawrence +would see through his remark and would +resent it; he might have known that his silly, +clownish wink could not escape Lawrence’s +keen eyes.</p> + +<p>So Westby walked on, gloomily reproaching +himself, unconscious that at that very +moment, walking a hundred yards behind, +Irving was defending him.</p> + +<p>“A month ago, Lawrence, I’d have been +glad to have you light on Westby as you did,” +he said. “But now I’m rather sorry.”</p> + +<p>“Why so?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, he’s had some hard luck lately, and—well, +I don’t know. Those encounters with +a boy don’t seem to me worth while.”</p> + +<p>“You’ve got to suppress them when they’re +fresh like that,” insisted Lawrence. “For a +fellow to talk to you in that fresh way before +a guest—and that guest your brother—I +don’t stand for it; that’s all.”</p> + +<p>“No, I don’t either. Well, it doesn’t matter +much; reproof slides off Westby like water +off a duck’s back.”<a name="Page_190" id="Page_190"></a><span class="pagenum" title="190"></span></p> + +<p>They talked of other things then until Lawrence +had to join his team and enter the +athletic house with them to dress.</p> + +<p>Out on the field Irving mingled with the +crowd, walked to and fro nervously, stopped +to say only a word now to a boy, now to a +master, and then passed on. It was foolish for +him to be so excited, so tremulous, he told +himself. Lawrence had parted from him with +the same calmness with which he might have +gone to prepare for bed. It was all the more +foolish to be so excited, because the accessories +to promote a preliminary excitement were lacking,—rivalry, +partisanship; the visiting team +had no supporters.</p> + +<p>The School had turned out to see the game, +but there was no cheering, no thrill of expectation; +the boys stood about and waited quietly, +as they would before ordinary practice. It +would be different in another week, when the +St. John’s team were sharing the athletic house +with St. Timothy’s, and the adherents of the +two schools were ranged opposite each other, +waving flags and hurling back and forth chal<a name="Page_191" id="Page_191"></a><span class="pagenum" title="191"></span>lenging +cheers—cheers meant to inspirit the +players while they dressed. But now Irving +was aware that he in all the crowd was the +only one whose nerves and muscles were quivering, +whose voice might not be quite natural +or quite under his control, whose heart was +beating hard.</p> + +<p>If Lawrence should not play well this time—the +first time he had ever seen him play! +Or if anything should happen to him! Irving +tramped back and forth, digging cold hands +into his pockets.</p> + +<p>The Harvard team was the first to leave the +athletic house; they broke through the line of +spectators near where Irving stood and trotted +out on the field. As they passed, he caught +his brother’s eye and waved to him. In the preliminary +practice Irving watched him eagerly; +with his light curly hair he was conspicuous, +and as he was on the end of the line his movements +were easy to follow. It seemed to Irving +that he was the quickest and the readiest and +the handsomest of them all.</p> + +<p>Out came St. Timothy’s, and then there was<a name="Page_192" id="Page_192"></a><span class="pagenum" title="192"></span> +a cheer. The two teams went rollicking and +tumbling up and down the field for a few moments; +then Collingwood and the Harvard +captain met in the centre, Mr. Barclay tossed +a coin, and the players went to their positions. +Mr. Barclay blew a whistle; the game +began.</p> + +<p>From that time on Irving trotted up and +down the side lines, his heart twittering with +pride and anxiety. After every scrimmage, +after every tackle, he looked apprehensively +for a curly light head; he was always glad +when he saw it bob up safely out of a pile. +Through all the press and conflict, he watched +for it, followed it—just as, he thought in one +whimsical moment, the French troopers of Macaulay’s +poem watched for the white plume of +Navarre.</p> + +<p>If he had known even less about the game +than he did, he must still have seen that for +Harvard his brother and Ballard, the fullback, +were playing especially well. Ballard, with his +hard plunges through the centre and his long +punts, was the chief factor in Harvard’s offen<a name="Page_193" id="Page_193"></a><span class="pagenum" title="193"></span>sive +game; Lawrence was their ablest player +on the defense.</p> + +<p>After the first ten minutes St. Timothy’s +made hardly an attempt to go round his end, +but devoted their assaults to the centre and +other wing of the line.</p> + +<p>If there was one thing for which Collingwood, +the best football player in the School, +had achieved a special reputation, it was the +fleetness and dexterity with which he could +run the ball back after punts. He was known +as the best man in the back field that St. +Timothy’s had had in years. So when Ballard +prepared for his first kick, the spectators looked +on with composure.</p> + +<p>It was a fine kick; the ball went spiraling +high and far, but Collingwood was under it as +it fell, and Dennison was in front of him to +protect him.</p> + +<p>Yet Lawrence, rushing down upon them, +was too quick, too clever; Dennison’s attempt +to block him off was only a glancing one that +staggered him for the fraction of an instant; +and the ball had no sooner struck in Colling<a name="Page_194" id="Page_194"></a><span class="pagenum" title="194"></span>wood’s +arms than Lawrence launched himself +and hurled the runner backwards.</p> + +<p>“Whew! What a fierce tackle!” ejaculated +a boy near Irving admiringly.</p> + +<p>“I think Lou did well to hang on the ball,” +responded his friend.</p> + +<p>Irving heard; he went about greedily drinking +in comments which that tackle had evoked. +He found himself standing behind Westby +and the other substitutes, who, wrapped in +blankets, trailed up and down the field keeping +pace with the progress of their team.</p> + +<p>“No!” Briggs, one of the substitutes, was +saying. “Was that Kiddy Upton’s brother? +He’s a whirlwind, isn’t he?”</p> + +<p>“Looked to me as if he was trying to +lay Lou Collingwood out,” returned Westby +sourly.</p> + +<p>At once Irving’s cheeks flamed hot. He put +out his hand and touched Westby’s shoulder; +the boy turned, and then the blood rushed +into his cheeks too.</p> + +<p>“Was there anything wrong about that +tackle, Westby?” Irving asked.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195"></a><span class="pagenum" title="195"></span>“It just seemed to me he threw him pretty +hard.”</p> + +<p>Irving spoke to the three or four other substitutes +standing by.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know much about football; was +there anything wrong with that tackle—that +it should be criticised?”</p> + +<p>“It looked all right to me,” said Briggs.</p> + +<p>“If there is any question about it, I shall +want to talk to my brother—”</p> + +<p>“Oh, it was all right,” Windom spoke up. +“It was a good, clean, hard tackle—the right +kind. Wes is always down on the enemy, +aren’t you, Wes?”</p> + +<p>Westby stood in sullen silence. The next +play was started; St. Timothy’s gained five +yards, and in the movement of the crowd Irving +and Westby were separated.</p> + +<p>For a few moments Irving’s thoughts were +diverted from his brother, and his joyous +excitement was overshadowed by regret. He +felt less indignant with Westby than sorry +for him; he knew that the boy had repented +of his hasty and intemperate words. If he<a name="Page_196" id="Page_196"></a><span class="pagenum" title="196"></span> +would only come up and acknowledge it—so +that he might be forgiven!</p> + +<p>Then Irving put Westby out of his mind. +St. Timothy’s had kicked; Ballard had recovered +the ball for Harvard on St. Timothy’s +forty-yard line, and then Warren, the quarterback, +had made a long pass straight into Lawrence’s +hands; Lawrence started to run; then, +just as Chase and Baldersnaith were bearing +down for the tackle, he stopped and hurled the +ball forward and across to Newell, the other +Harvard end.</p> + +<p>It sailed clear over the heads of the intervening +players; Newell had been signaled to, +had got down the field and was ready for it; +three St. Timothy’s players ran to get under +the ball, but instead of blocking Newell off +and merely trying to spoil his catch, they all +tried to make the catch themselves; they all +leaped for it. Newell was the quickest; he +grabbed the ball out of the air and went down +instantly, with the three others on him—but +he was on St. Timothy’s ten-yard line.</p> + +<p>It was a brilliant pass and a brilliant catch;<a name="Page_197" id="Page_197"></a><span class="pagenum" title="197"></span> +St. Timothy’s stood looking on disconsolate, +while the Harvard players gathered exultantly +for the line-up. Three rushes through tackle +and centre and one run round Lawrence’s end +carried the ball across St. Timothy’s line for a +touchdown. Ballard kicked the goal.</p> + +<p>There was no more scoring that half. In +the second half St. Timothy’s kicked off; Harvard +got the ball and set about rushing it +back up the field. They had gained ten yards +and had carried the ball forty yards from their +own goal, when they lost possession of it on a +fumble. The spectators cheered, and began +shouting,—</p> + +<p>“Touchdown, St. Timothy’s, touchdown!”</p> + +<p>There was more shouting when, with Collingwood +interfering for him, Dennison broke +through the Harvard left tackle and made +fifteen yards. Then Collingwood made a quarter-back +kick which Morrill captured on the +Harvard five-yard line.</p> + +<p>The St. Timothy’s cheering broke out afresh, +Scarborough leading it. Irving joined in the +cheer; he was glad to see Collingwood and the<a name="Page_198" id="Page_198"></a><span class="pagenum" title="198"></span> +others making gains—provided they did not +make them round Lawrence’s end.</p> + +<p>On the five-yard line the Harvard defense +stiffened. On the third down the ball was two +yards from the goal line.</p> + +<p>“Everybody get into this next play—everybody!” +cried Collingwood appealingly; he +went about slapping his men on the back. +“Now then—twelve, thirty-seven, eighteen.”</p> + +<p>There was a surge forward, a quivering, +toppling mass that finally fell indecisively. +No one knew whether the ball had been pushed +across or not. No one wanted to get up for +fear it might be pushed one way or the other +in the shifting.</p> + +<p>Barclay and Randolph, who was umpire, +began summarily dragging the players from +the pile, hauling at an arm or a leg; at last +Dennison was revealed at the bottom hugging +the ball—and it was just across the line.</p> + +<p>Then all the St. Timothy’s players capered +about for joy, and the spectators shouted as +triumphantly as if it had been the St. John’s +game; the Harvard team ranged themselves<a name="Page_199" id="Page_199"></a><span class="pagenum" title="199"></span> +quietly under the goal. Dennison kicked the +goal, and the score was tied.</p> + +<p>For the next ten minutes neither team succeeded +in making much progress. St. Timothy’s +were playing more aggressively than in the +first half; twice Kenyon, the Harvard halfback, +started to skirt round Lawrence’s end, +but both times Baldersnaith, the St. Timothy’s +tackle, broke through and dragged him down. +Baldersnaith, Dennison, Morrill, and Collingwood +were especially distinguishing themselves +for the School.</p> + +<p>At last, after one of the scrimmages, Dennison +got up, hobbled a moment, and then sat +down again. Collingwood hurried over to him +anxiously.</p> + +<p>“Wrenched my ankle,” said Dennison. “I +guess I’ll be all right in a moment.”</p> + +<p>Waring, the Fifth Former, who acted as +water-carrier, ran out on the field with his pail +and sponge. Mr. Barclay examined the ankle, +then turned to Collingwood.</p> + +<p>“I think he could go on playing,” he said. +“But if I were you I’d take him out now and<a name="Page_200" id="Page_200"></a><span class="pagenum" title="200"></span> +save him for the St. John’s game. You don’t +want to risk his being laid up for that.”</p> + +<p>Dennison protested, but Collingwood agreed +with Mr. Barclay. He turned and called, +“Westby”; and as Westby ran out, Dennison +picked himself up and limped to the side-line.</p> + +<p>It was Harvard’s ball in the middle of the +field. Though it was only the first down, Ballard +dropped back to kick.</p> + +<p>“Now then, Wes, hang on to it,” Collingwood +cried as he and Westby turned and ran +to their places in the back field.</p> + +<p>Westby had a faint hope that the kick +might go to Collingwood; he didn’t feel +quite ready yet to catch the ball; he wanted to +be given a chance to steady down first. But +he knew that was exactly what the Harvard +quarterback intended to prevent.</p> + +<p>The ball came sailing, high and twisting; +he had to run back to get under it. Then he +planted himself, but the ball as it came down +was slanted off by the wind, so that he had +at the last to make a sudden dash for it; it +struck and stuck, hugged to his breast, and<a name="Page_201" id="Page_201"></a><span class="pagenum" title="201"></span> +then over he went with a terrific shock, which +jarred the ball from his grasp.</p> + +<p>Irving had seen the play with mingled joy +and sorrow. It was his brother who had made +the tackle; it was Newell, the other Harvard +end, who had dropped on the fumbled ball.</p> + +<p>Westby and Lawrence got to their feet together; +Lawrence’s eyes were dancing with +triumphant expectation; the ball was Harvard’s +now on St. Timothy’s twenty-yard line. And +Westby went dully to his position, aware of +the accusing silence of the crowd.</p> + +<p>“All right, Wes; we’ll stop them,” Collingwood +said to him cheerfully.</p> + +<p>Westby did his best and flung himself desperately +into the thick of every scrimmage. +The whole team did its best, but Harvard +would not be denied. By short rushes they +fought their way down, down, and at last +across the goal line—and the game was won. +There were only three minutes left to play, +and in that time neither side scored.</p> + +<p>When Mr. Barclay blew his whistle, the +Harvard team assembled and cheered St.<a name="Page_202" id="Page_202"></a><span class="pagenum" title="202"></span> +Timothy’s, and then St. Timothy’s assembled +and cheered Harvard. After that the players +walked to the athletic house, beset on the way +by the curious or by friends.</p> + +<p>Westby was the victim of condolences, well +meant but ill-timed; he responded curtly when +Blake, pushing near, said to him, “It was +awfully hard luck, Wes—but after that you +played a mighty good game.” He wished +nothing but to be let alone, he wished no +sympathy. He knew that he had lost the game; +that was enough for him.</p> + +<p>In the dressing-room he sat on a bench next +to Lawrence Upton and began putting on his +clothes in silence. The other boys were talking +all round him, commenting cheerfully on +the plays and on the future prospects of the +teams.</p> + +<p>Lawrence refrained from discussing the +game at all; he asked Westby what St. +Timothy’s boys he knew at Harvard, and +where he expected to room when he went +there; he tried to be friendly. But Westby +repelled his efforts, answering in a sullen<a name="Page_203" id="Page_203"></a><span class="pagenum" title="203"></span> +voice. At last Lawrence finished dressing; he +picked up his bag and turned to Westby.</p> + +<p>“Look here,” he said, and there was a +twinkle in his eyes. “I’m going to be at +Harvard the next three years; we’re likely +to meet. Must a little hard luck make hard +feeling?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, there’s no hard feeling,” Westby +assured him.</p> + +<p>“Glad to hear it. Good-by.” Lawrence +held out his hand.</p> + +<p>“You’re not going to stay for supper?”</p> + +<p>“No. I’m going back with the team on the +six o’clock train—hour exam on Monday. +My brother’s waiting for me outside; I want +to see him for a while before we start. I hope +to come up here some time again—hope I’ll +see you.”</p> + +<p>“Thanks. I hope so. Good-by.”</p> + +<p>The words were all right, but Westby spoke +them mechanically. It had flashed upon him +that Lawrence would now learn from his +brother the charge that he had so unjustly and +hotly made. And of a sudden he wished he<a name="Page_204" id="Page_204"></a><span class="pagenum" title="204"></span> +could prevent that. He would have been glad +to go to Irving and retract it all and apologize; +anything to keep Lawrence from hearing +of it.</p> + +<p>Why had he been so slow in dressing—why +hadn’t he hurried on his clothes and +gone out ahead of Lawrence and made it all +right with Irving!</p> + +<p>With a wild thought that it might not yet +be too late, he flung on his coat and rushed +from the building—only to see Irving and +Lawrence walking together across the football +field.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<div><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a><span class="toclnk"><a href="#CONTENTS">TOC</a></span></div> +<h2><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205"></a><span class="pagenum" title="205"></span>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<h3>MASTER AND BOY</h3> + + +<p>For several days Westby’s unnatural quiet +was attributed to his sensitiveness over +the error which had given the Harvard Freshmen +their victory. It was most noticeable at +Irving’s table; there his bubbling spirits seemed +permanently to have subsided; he wrapped himself +in silence and gloom. His manner towards +Irving was that of haughty displeasure. Carroll +was at a loss to understand it and questioned +him about it one day.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I’m just tired of him—tired of hearing +his everlasting brag about his brother,” +Westby said sharply.</p> + +<p>“He bragged so little about him once you +wouldn’t believe he had a brother,” replied +Carroll. “I don’t see that he brags much more +about him now.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I see it, and it annoys me,” retorted<a name="Page_206" id="Page_206"></a><span class="pagenum" title="206"></span> +Westby rudely. “I think I’ll see if I can have +my seat changed. I’d rather sit at Scabby’s +table.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Randolph, however, the head of the +Upper School, refused to grant Westby’s petition.</p> + +<p>“You don’t give any special reason,” he +said. “You have friends at Mr. Upton’s table; +you ought to be contented to stay there. +What’s the matter? Are you having friction +with some one?”</p> + +<p>“I should be better satisfied if I were at +Scarborough’s table,” said Westby.</p> + +<p>“We can’t gratify every individual preference +or whim,” replied Mr. Randolph.</p> + +<p>He asked Irving if he knew of any reason +why Westby should be transferred and told +him that the boy had asked for the change.</p> + +<p>“Oh, it’s just between him and me,” said +Irving wearily. “We don’t get on.”</p> + +<p>“Then you’d like to have him go, too?”</p> + +<p>“No, I wouldn’t. When he’s his natural +self, I like him. And I haven’t yet given up +the hope that some time we’ll get together.”</p> + +<p><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207"></a><span class="pagenum" title="207"></span>He met Westby’s coldness with coolness. +But on the morning of the St. John’s game, +after breakfast, he drew Westby aside. He +held a letter in his hand.</p> + +<p>“Westby,” he said, “I don’t know that you +will care to hear it, but I have a message for +you from my brother.”</p> + +<p>Westby cast down his eyes and reddened. +“I don’t suppose I shall care to hear it,” he +said with a humility that amazed Irving. “But +go ahead—give it to me, Mr. Upton.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t quite understand—he just asked +me to say to you that he hopes you’ll get your +chance in the game to-day. He felt you were +rather cut up by your hard luck in the Freshman +game.”</p> + +<p>“Didn’t he—isn’t he—” Westby hesitated +for an uncomfortable moment, then +blurted out, “Isn’t he sore at me, Mr. Upton?”</p> + +<p>“What for?”</p> + +<p>“For saying about him what I did—about +his trying to lay Collingwood out when he +tackled.”</p> + +<p><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208"></a><span class="pagenum" title="208"></span>“He doesn’t know you said it.”</p> + +<p>“Oh! Didn’t you tell him?”</p> + +<p>“No. The criticism was unjust—there was +no use in repeating it.”</p> + +<p>“It was unjust.” Westby had lowered his +voice. “I am very much ashamed, Mr. Upton.”</p> + +<p>“That’s all right,” said Irving. He took +Westby’s hand. “I hope too you’ll get your +chance in the game.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you.” Westby spoke humbly. “I +hope if I do, I won’t make a mess of it again.”</p> + +<p>That game was far different in color and feeling +from the one with the Freshmen on the +Saturday before. Long before it began the +boys of St. John’s with their blue banners and +flags and the boys of St. Timothy’s with their +red were ranged on opposite sides of the field, +hurling defiant, challenging cheers across at one +another; for St. Timothy’s a band, in which +Scarborough beat the drum and was director, +paraded back and forth; the little boys were +already hopping up and down and trembling +and squealing with excitement; already their +little voices were almost gone.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209"></a><span class="pagenum" title="209"></span>Irving knew that to himself alone was this +occasion one of less moving interest than that +of the preceding Saturday; as he stood and +looked on at the waving red and the waving +blue and later at the struggle that was being +waged in the middle of the field, he wondered +how on this afternoon that other game between +the red and the blue was going, and +how Lawrence was acquitting himself.</p> + +<p>Certainly it could not, he thought, be any +more close, more hotly contested, than this of +the two rival schools. All through the first +half they fought each other without scoring.</p> + +<p>Once St. Timothy’s had got down to St. +John’s fifteen-yard line, but then had been +unable to go farther, and Dennison had missed +by only a few feet his try for a goal from the +field.</p> + +<p>Early in the second half St. Timothy’s met +with misfortune. Dennison was laid out by a +hard tackle; when at last he got to his feet, +he limped badly. Louis Collingwood took +him by the arm and walked round with him;<a name="Page_210" id="Page_210"></a><span class="pagenum" title="210"></span> +Dennison was arguing, protesting. But Collingwood +led him towards the side-line, patting +him on the back, and called “Westby!”</p> + +<p>The spectators cheered the injured player +who came off so reluctantly; then they cheered +Westby as he ran out upon the field. Irving +was near the group of substitutes when Dennison +hobbled in.</p> + +<p>“Hurt much, Denny?” asked Briggs.</p> + +<p>“No—just that same old ankle—hang it +all!” Dennison slipped into a blanket and +lowered himself painfully to the ground.</p> + +<p>Irving’s eyes were upon Westby; he hoped +that this time the boy would not fail. Westby +had an opportunity now to steady his nerves; +it was St. Timothy’s ball and only the first +down. Collingwood gave the signal; Irving +watched closely, saw Westby take the ball on +the pass and dive into the line. In a moment +all the St. Timothy’s eleven seemed to be behind +him, hurling him through, and St. Timothy’s +on the side-lines waved and shouted, for +Westby had gained five yards.</p> + +<p>Collingwood called on him again; he gained<a name="Page_211" id="Page_211"></a><span class="pagenum" title="211"></span> +three yards more. Irving shouted with the rest; +he turned to Mr. Randolph and said,—</p> + +<p>“That ought to give Westby confidence.”</p> + +<p>“I hope it does; he’s so erratic,” Mr. Randolph +answered. “If only he’s starting in now +on one of his brilliant streaks!”</p> + +<p>Lane, the Fifth Form halfback, tried to go +round the end on the next play, but made no +gain. Then Westby was driven again at left +tackle, but he got only two yards.</p> + +<p>Collingwood gave the signal for a criss-cross; +Lane took the ball, and passed it to Westby, +who was already on the run. Westby got clear +of the St. John’s end, and seemed well started +for a brilliant run; but their halfback chased +him across the field and finally, by a tremendous +diving tackle, pulled him down. As it was, +Westby had made so much of a gain that the +distance had to be measured; he had failed by +only a few inches to make the required amount, +and the ball went to St. John’s on their thirty-five-yard +line.</p> + +<p>St. John’s made two ineffectual rushes; +then their fullback, Warner, prepared to kick.<a name="Page_212" id="Page_212"></a><span class="pagenum" title="212"></span> +Westby and Collingwood raced to their places +in the back field.</p> + +<p>There was a tense moment on both sides; +then Warner sent the ball flying high and far. +It was Westby’s ball; the St. John’s ends and +one of their tackles came down fast under the +kick.</p> + +<p>Irving, with his heart in his throat, watched +Westby; the boy, with both hands raised, was +wabbling about, stepping to the right, to the left, +backward, forward; the ends were there in +front of him, crouched and waiting; Collingwood +tried to fend them off, but the big tackle +rushed in and upset him, and at the same instant +the ball fell into Westby’s arms—and +slipped through them.</p> + +<p>One of the ends dropped on the ball, rolled +over with it a couple of times, rolled up on his +feet again and was off with it for the St. Timothy’s +goal; he had carried it to the twenty-yard +line when Collingwood pulled him down. +St. John’s were streaming down their side line, +shrieking and waving their blue flags; St. Timothy’s +stood dazed and silent.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213"></a><span class="pagenum" title="213"></span>“Oh, butterfingers!” cried Briggs, stamping +his foot.</p> + +<p>“Just like Wes—he wouldn’t make a football +player in a thousand years!” exclaimed +Windom.</p> + +<p>Irving heard the comments; he heard other +comments. If St. John’s should score now! +He hoped they wouldn’t; he was sorry enough +for Westby. But St. John’s did score, by a +series of furious centre rushes, and their fullback +kicked the goal. And when, fifteen +minutes later, the referee blew his whistle, the +game was St. John’s, by that score of six to +nothing.</p> + +<p>Irving could understand why some of the St. +Timothy’s boys had tears in their eyes. It was +pretty trying even for him to see the triumphant +visitors rush upon the field, toss the members +of their team upon their shoulders, and +bear them away exultantly to the athletic +house, yelling and flaunting their flags, while +the St. Timothy’s players walked disconsolately +and silently behind them.</p> + +<p>It was trying afterwards to stand by and see<a name="Page_214" id="Page_214"></a><span class="pagenum" title="214"></span> +those blue-bedecked invaders form into long-linked +lines and dance their serpentine of victory +on St. Timothy’s ground. It was trying +to stand by and watch barge after barge bedecked +with blue roll away while the occupants +shouted and waved their hats—and left the +field to silence and despair.</p> + +<p>But still St. Timothy’s did not abandon the +scene of their defeat. They waited loyally in +front of the athletic house to welcome and console +their team when it should emerge. Collingwood +led the players out, and the crowd +gave them a good one.</p> + +<p>Collingwood said, with a smile, though in an +unsteady voice, “Much obliged, fellows,” and +waved his hand.</p> + +<p>Then the crowd dispersed; slowly they all +walked away.</p> + +<p>That evening, as Irving was about to leave +his room to go down to supper, a boy brought +him a telegram. It was from his brother; it +said,—</p> + +<p>“We licked them, twelve to six. Feeling +fine. Lawrence.”<a name="Page_215" id="Page_215"></a><span class="pagenum" title="215"></span></p> + +<p>At the table Irving tried not to appear too +happy. He apologized for his state of mind +and told the boys the cause; those who, like +Carroll, were Harvard sympathizers derived a +little cheer from the news, and the others +seemed indifferent to it. Westby was not there. +The training table was vacant, and at the other +tables were empty chairs where substitutes on +the team had sat. Mrs. Barclay was entertaining +the football players.</p> + +<p>“I wish I was breaking training there,” said +Carroll to Irving; “she has the most wonderful +food.”</p> + +<p>In the discussion of the game there seemed +to be little disposition to blame Westby.</p> + +<p>“After all,” said Blake, “he was only a sub, +and he never got so very much practice in +handling punts. I don’t think fellows ought +to be sore on him.”</p> + +<p>“No, he’s just sore on himself,” said Carroll.</p> + +<p>“It’s hard luck, anyhow; except for that +one thing he played mighty well.”</p> + +<p>The mail boy passed, leaving a letter for<a name="Page_216" id="Page_216"></a><span class="pagenum" title="216"></span> +Irving. It was in his uncle’s handwriting; and +his uncle never wrote to him; it was his aunt +who kept him posted on all the news of home. +Did this mean that she was ill—or that some +disaster had befallen?</p> + +<p>Irving determined that if it was bad news, +he would reserve it until he should be alone; +he put the letter in his pocket and waited +anxiously for the meal to end.</p> + +<p>When he was again in his room, he tore +open the envelope and read this letter:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Dear Irving</span>,—I have not helped you and +Lawrence much financially. I thought it would +do you and him no harm to try out your own +resources. But I always meant to give you a +lift whenever it should seem wise, and whenever +a lift could be most advantageously arranged.</p> + +<p>Your father was never able to lay up any +money; his work was of a kind that did not +permit that. But he would always have shared +with me whatever he had. I have had it in +mind to do the same by his children. I have<a name="Page_217" id="Page_217"></a><span class="pagenum" title="217"></span> +sold half the farm—the western half—your +half and Lawrence’s. There is four thousand +dollars in cash for each of you, and four +thousand on a mortgage for each of you at six +per cent. You had better draw out of school-teaching +as soon as possible and study law—if +that is still what you most want to do.</p> + +<p>Your aunt is well and sends her love. We +are both looking forward to seeing you and +Lawrence at Christmas.</p> + +<p>Your affectionate uncle,</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Robert Upton.</span></p></div> + +<p>A flood of warm emotion poured through +Irving; his eyes filled. He had sometimes +thought his uncle selfish and narrow—and +all the time he had been working towards +this!</p> + +<p>Irving wrote his reply; he wrote also to +Lawrence. Then he took his letters down to the +Study building, to post them so that they might +go out with the night mail. On his way he +passed the Barclay house; it was all brightly +lighted, the sound of laughter and of gay boy<a name="Page_218" id="Page_218"></a><span class="pagenum" title="218"></span> +voices rang out through the open windows; +the notes of a piano then subdued them, and +there burst out a chorus in the sonorous measured +sweep of “Wacht am Rhein.”</p> + +<p>Irving stood for a few moments and listened; +his exultant heart was responsive to that shouted +song. Fellows who could sing like that, he +thought, must have trodden disappointment +under heel.</p> + +<p>An hour later, when Irving sat in his room, +the boys who had been entertained at the +Barclays’ came tramping up the stairs. They +were still singing, but they stopped their song +before they entered the dormitory. Irving met +them to say good-night—first Dennison and +then Morrill and then Louis Collingwood.</p> + +<p>“Have you heard the new song Wes has +got off, Mr. Upton?” asked Dennison.</p> + +<p>“No, what’s that?”</p> + +<p>“Hit it up, Wes.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, choke it off.” Collingwood grinned +uneasily.</p> + +<p>“Go on, Wes,—strike up. We’ll all join +in.”</p> + +<p><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219"></a><span class="pagenum" title="219"></span>“Wait till I get my banjo—you don’t +mind, do you, Mr. Upton?”</p> + +<p>“No. I’d like to hear it.”</p> + +<p>So Westby hastened to his room and returned, +bearing the instrument; and all the +other boys gathered round, except Collingwood, +who stood sheepishly off at one side. +Westby twanged the strings and then to the +accompaniment began,—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Across the broad prairies he came from the west,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With fire in his eye and with brawn on his chest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His arms they were strong and his legs they were fleet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There was none could outstrip his vanishing feet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We made him our captain—what else could we do?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You ask who he is? Do I hear you say, ‘Who?’”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Then they all came in on the chorus:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“He is our Lou, he is our honey-Lou,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He is our pride and joy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He is our Loo-loo, he is our Loo-loo,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He is our Lou-Lou boy.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>“Silly song!” exclaimed Collingwood with +disgust.</p> + +<p>“Wes made it up just this evening, at Mrs. +Barclay’s,” said Dennison. “We were all sing<a name="Page_220" id="Page_220"></a><span class="pagenum" title="220"></span>ing, +and after a while Wes edged in to the +piano and sprung this on us. Don’t you think +it’s a good song?”</p> + +<p>“So good that I wish I could furnish inspiration +for another,” said Irving.</p> + +<p>Westby joined in the laugh and looked +pleased.</p> + +<p>“Good-night, everybody,” said Collingwood; +he walked away to his room. The others followed, +all except Westby, to whom Irving +said,—</p> + +<p>“Will you wait a moment? I should like to +have a little talk with you.” He led the boy +into his room and pushed forward his armchair.</p> + +<p>Westby seated himself with his banjo across +his knees and looked at Irving wonderingly.</p> + +<p>“The fellows seem pretty cheerful after their +defeat, don’t they?” said Irving.</p> + +<p>A shadow crossed Westby’s face. “They’ve +been very decent about it,” he answered.</p> + +<p>Irving put his hand on Westby’s arm.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 423px;"><a name="Page_220f" id="Page_220f"></a><span class="pagenum" title="Facing 220"></span> +<img src="images/220.jpg" width="423" height="645" alt="[Illustration: A SHADOW CROSSED WESTBY’S FACE]" title="A SHADOW CROSSED WESTBY'S FACE" /> +<span>A SHADOW CROSSED WESTBY’S FACE</span> +</div> + +<p>“Do you know why they’re so decent? +It’s because you’ve cheered them up yourself. +<a name="Page_221" id="Page_221"></a><span class="pagenum" title="221"></span>Who was the fellow, Westby, that said he +didn’t care who might make his country’s +laws if only he might write its songs?”</p> + +<p>“Oh—no—that’s got nothing to do with +me.”</p> + +<p>“You needn’t care who makes the touchdowns. +Your job is to do something else. It’s +no discredit to you if because of lack of training +or adaptability, you can’t hang on to a +ball at a critical moment. There are plenty of +fellows who can do that.—I suppose you don’t +see it yet yourself—but you know the message +my brother sent you? I shall tell him +that you got your chance to-day—and took +it.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t see how.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I don’t know how you managed it +exactly. But I could see when those fellows +came upstairs just now that you stood better +with them than you ever had done before. It +must have been because you showed the right +spirit—and I know by experience, Westby, +that it’s awfully hard to show the right spirit +when you’re down.”</p> + +<p><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222"></a><span class="pagenum" title="222"></span>There was silence for a few moments.</p> + +<p>“I guess I’ve made it hard for you,” said +Westby at last, in a low voice. “You’re different +from what I thought you were.”</p> + +<p>Irving’s low laugh of exultation sprang +from the heart. “Maybe I am—and maybe +you were right about me, too. A fellow changes. +A month ago, I was wondering what use there +could ever be in my studying law—trying to +practise, mixing with men—when I couldn’t +hold my own with a handful of boys. For +some reason, I don’t feel that way any longer.—Well, +that’s about all I wanted to say to +you, Westby.” He stood up. “Good-night.”</p> + +<p>Westby rose and shook hands. “Good-night, +sir.”</p> + +<p>He passed out and quietly closed the door. +Irving stood at the window, gazing beyond +the shadowy trees to the dim silver line of the +pond, touched now by the moonlight. There +was a knock on the door.</p> + +<p>“Come in,” Irving called.</p> + +<p>It was Westby again.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Mr. Upton,” he said, “I meant to tell<a name="Page_223" id="Page_223"></a><span class="pagenum" title="223"></span> +you—I heard at Mr. Barclay’s how the Freshman +game came out; I wish, if you would, +you’d send your brother my congratulations.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, I will.”</p> + +<p>“Good-night, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Good-night.”</p> + +<p>The door closed softly. Irving turned again +and pressed his forehead against the window-pane +with a smile. It was a smile not merely +of satisfaction because he had won his way at +last, though he was not indifferent to that; +he was happy too because this night he felt he +had come close to Westby.</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Jester of St. Timothy's, by +Arthur Stanwood Pier + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE JESTER OF ST. 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