MYRON COMES BACK
"Afraid I've spoiled your beauty sleep, Myron," said the visitor.
"Sorry, but I've been up so long I forgot how early it was."
"What--what are you doing over here?" gasped Myron.
"Looking for you, of course," replied Andrew easily as he seated himself
on the bed. "Nice quarters you've got. Next time, though, I wish you'd
locate further up on the alphabet. It's a long way to the M's!"
"Are you crazy or--or am I?" asked Myron helplessly.
"Neither, I hope," answered the visitor calmly. "You see, I set out to
find you on the telephone and had to call up about twenty hotels before
I got the right one. I started with the A's and you, as it happened,
were among the M's."
"What did you want to find me for? Who sent you?"
"Well, I suppose you might say that Joe sent me. At least, he had the
idea first. After that, I sort of sent myself."
"You might have spared yourself the trouble," said Myron defiantly. "I'm
not going back!"
Apparently Andrew didn't hear that. "Joe was all fussed up, like a
hen who's hatched out a duck. He came around about half-past eight
and loaded me with money and handed me my hat, so to speak. Got in
here around five-thirty. You didn't show up at the station for the
seven-twelve, so I changed my money into nickels and proceeded to make
the telephone company enormously wealthy. You've cost me--or, rather,
Joe--a lot of money, Myron." Andrew shook his head sadly. "And I'm not
sure you're worth it, either."
"I didn't ask him to spend money on me," said Myron sulkily. "He hadn't
any business butting in, anyway. It's my own affair. If I want to leave
school I've got a right to, and----"
"Back up! Who told you that?"
"Told me what?" asked Myron blankly.
"That you had a right to leave school."
"Why, no one told me! But it's so!"
"No, sir, it isn't," said Andrew emphatically. "You haven't any more
right to leave school than a soldier has to leave his post, or a
policeman his beat. Not a bit more, Myron."
"That isn't so," answered the other excitedly. "It isn't the same at
all. Duty is one thing and--and staying where you don't get a square
deal's another. My folks have a right to take me away from Parkinson
whenever they want to!"
"Have they taken you out?"
"No, they don't know yet. But they will when I ask them to."
"That's all right, then. What your folks do is another matter, old man.
It's what you do that I'm talking about. Why do you say you haven't had
a square deal?"
"Because I haven't! Look at what Jud did to me! First of all, they made
me take too many courses, courses I didn't want to take at all, some
of them. Then when I couldn't keep them up just as--just as they think
I ought to, they came down on me! Jud says I can't play football. Just
because Addicks has it in for me. Addicks calls on me twice as often as
any other fellow in class. I hate Latin, anyway. I didn't want to take
it this year. Next year would be time enough. Driscoll made me work like
a slave, and I didn't have time enough for all the things I'm supposed
to study, and Jud socked it to me. I'd been trying for a month to get on
the team, and now, just when I was sure of a place, Jud springs this!
Call that a square deal? I don't!"
"Well, it's sort of tough luck, old man. How long are you off for?"
"He wouldn't tell me. Said we'd wait and see, or something. He can wait.
I'm through."
"Still, I don't see how you're helping things much by running away,"
said Andrew mildly. "If you want to play on the team you'll have to do
it by mail, won't you?"
"Oh, I'm done wanting to," answered Myron roughly. "I'm done with the
whole rotten place."
"And Joe and me? I see."
"I didn't say I had anything against you and Joe," retorted Myron
indignantly. "Or--or some other fellows. The fellows are all right.
It--it's the school. The way they do things. They don't give you a
chance. They aren't fair."
"So you even up by not being fair, too?"
"What do you mean by that?" asked Myron, glowering.
"Why, you get mad because you think faculty has treated you badly, and
then you turn around and treat other folks badly."
"What other folks?" asked Myron.
"Your friends, the football team and, through that, the whole school."
"How do you make that out?" Myron demanded, frowning.
"Well, take Joe and me, for instance. We're in the picture. You let us
take a liking to you, which we wouldn't have done if we hadn't thought
you a good, square sort, the sort that does his duty even if it looks
hard. Then when duty gets a bit tiresome you kick us in the shins and
run away. Same way with the team. You went out for it and the coach and
the rest spent time and effort on you. They thought you were a square
sort, too. They wouldn't knowingly make a poor investment any more than
Joe and I would. Then, when you hit a snag, you repudiate your debt to
them and beat it. You had a chance to make a good player of yourself
and win a position on the team and help bring about a victory for the
school. Because you get mad with Jud, you tell the school to go to the
dickens. In other words, Myron, old man, you're a quitter."
"I'm not!" cried the other desperately. "You're making it out all wrong!
Besides, it wouldn't make any difference to the school if I stayed. I'm
out of football."
"I don't see it. You're out of football until you get back your class
standing. The right thing to do is to get it back as soon as you can.
It's your fault that you lost it. There's no use kidding yourself,
Myron. You got in trouble with Addicks because you didn't play fair
with him. You got in trouble with Jud for the same reason. Now you won't
play fair with the rest of us. Think it over."
"It's not so, Andy! I tell you I didn't have time to study that beastly
Latin! Joe knows I didn't. I was too tired at night. I couldn't!"
"If that's really so you should have told Driscoll to let up on you. But
I think the trouble was that you didn't make the best use of the time
you had. You have two hours every morning, to my certain knowledge, when
you've no classes, and I've never heard of you making use of them for
study."
"It's all well enough for you to preach," retorted Myron bitterly. "You
_like_ the wretched stuff! You don't have any trouble with it. I do.
I--even if I went back I'd never catch up in class."
"Oh, yes, you would. I'll guarantee that. I'll promise you that you'll
be in good standing with Addicks by next Saturday."
Myron stared, surprised, doubtful. "How?" he asked at length.
"I'll look after the 'how,' old man."
"You mean you'll tutor me again?"
Andrew nodded. Myron dropped his gaze to the counterpane. A minute
of silence followed during which the ticking of Myron's watch on the
bedside table sounded loudly in the room. Then said Andrew briskly:
"There's a New York train at ten, I think. That'll give you time for
breakfast and let us catch the one-something back. You get your bath and
dress and I'll go down and buy a paper. Don't know but what I'll have a
bite more myself. My breakfast was a trifle sketchy. How long will you
be?"
Myron continued to study the counterpane. Another silence ensued.
Finally, though, it was broken by Myron. "Twenty minutes," he said in a
low voice.
It was dark when they stepped off the train at Warne. As they did so a
form detached itself from the lamp-lit gloom of the platform and a voice
asked cautiously: "That you, Andy?" Then Myron felt a hand tugging at
his suit-case, and: "Let me have it, kiddo," said Joe. "We'll go over to
Andy's and leave it there until tomorrow. Better not take any risks."
They skirted the end of the train, avoiding publicity as much as was
possible, and made their way toward Mill Street. Only when they were
a block from the track was the silence broken again. Then Andy asked:
"Everything all right, Joe?"
"I think so. But I'm sure glad you didn't leave it until the next train.
I'd have had nervous prostration long before that! I had the dogs out
three times and fed them. There wasn't anything else to do. Maybe
they've bust themselves eating, but it can't be helped. That kid over in
Williams--Wynant or something--has a grouch a mile long, Andy. You'll
have to kiss him, I guess, before he will ever smile again! How are you,
kiddo?"
"All right, thanks," answered Myron rather constrainedly.
"That's good. By the way, I had to give the impression that you were
having dinner out somewhere. So if any one mentions it you'd better play
up."
"Who did you tell?" asked Myron.
"I don't think I exactly _told_ any one, but I let Jud Mellen go away
with the idea."
"Was he looking for me?"
"Yeah, wanted you to hurry up and get back to work," replied Joe
carelessly. "I told him that if you weren't back inside a week I'd bust
every bone in your body."
"He will be," said Andrew grimly. "If he isn't you may bust mine!"
Just before supper time Joe beat a tattoo on the portal of Number 16
Goss. Chas Cummins' voice bade him enter. Joe, however, only stuck his
head into the room, and, nodding to Brown, said in a deep, mysterious
whisper: "_Yes-s-s!_" Then he closed the door and went off down the
corridor, chuckling. In Number 16, Brown raised his brows and looked
inquiringly at his chum.
"Batty?" he asked.
A day passed before Joe and Myron breathed freely. By Monday evening it
seemed quite safe to assume that Myron's absence had passed undetected.
They went across town and brought the suit-case home then, Joe, however,
transferring certain articles, such as Myron's pyjamas, to his pockets
in case some inquisitive member of the faculty should insist on looking
inside the bag. But none challenged and the suit-case went back to the
closet and Myron's toilet articles to their places, and the episode was
closed. The two spoke of it but briefly. That was Sunday night, as they
were preparing for bed. Then Joe remarked conversationally: "You're a
crazy loon, kiddo, aren't you?" After a moment of reflection Myron said
"Yes," quite humbly.
"Sure are," agreed Joe, tossing his trousers in the general direction of
a chair. "Any time any guy accuses you of having sense, you knock him
down. I'll stand by you. Still, you have your uses, and I'm glad to see
you in our midst again. How about being here, now that you are!"
"Tickled to death," owned Myron a bit shamefacedly.
Joe chuckled. "Knew you would be," he said. "We ain't--aren't such a bad
lot when you take us, right. Good night, kiddo."
"Good night, Joe. I--you--I mean, thanks!"