REX SEES A HORRIBLE SPECTACLE
Three new fellows followed the knock into the room. They were noisily
greeted by Stout and Harrington. In the confusion it was some time
before Rex was introduced.
Tom Cheever was a tall youth, continually feeling of his upper lip as
if to see if his mustache had arrived; Dan Tilford had a narrow face,
pallid from much cigarette smoking, and an eye that never seemed fixed
on any object he gazed at; Harry Atkins was a handsome fellow of
eighteen, who seemed of quieter temperament than the others.
Stout gave an order to the boy who had shown the last callers up, and
the lad presently appeared staggering under a big bowl of what Stout
declared was the “rummest punch” New York could brew.
“Help yourselves, fellows!” he cried. “Remember that the last night of
vacation only comes once a year.”
The room was already filled with cigarette smoke. Two or three of these
cigarettes had been offered to Rex, but he had declined with a
vacillating “Not now, thank you.”
When the punch was passed around he took the glass that was handed to
him, but only pretended to drink. He did not care for liquor; he knew
that it would give him a headache. He was having a terribly stupid time
as it was. It was not worth while to aggravate it by the addition of
physical suffering.
He was appalled at the swiftness with which the others tossed off the
drink. It seemed scarcely five minutes before Stout was calling out:
“Fill ’em up again, men! Here’s to the coming year. May none of us be
plucked and ponies be plentiful.”
He took up glass after glass and refilled it. Rex saw what was coming
and tried to be prepared for it.
“Why, Pell!” exclaimed the hospitable host, “you haven’t drunk a drop.
What does this mean?”
“I don’t drink, thank you,” stammered Rex, conscious that he ought to
look the other straight in the eye as he made this response, but
dropping his handkerchief so that he might have an excuse to stoop down
and pick it up instead.
“Oh, yes you do, when you are among gentlemen like us, Reggie.”
Harrington came forward hastily to say this.
The others held their glasses half way to their lips and watched for
the outcome with interest.
If Rex were the hero of this tale it would doubtless be my pleasant
duty to record the fact that he lifted the glass from the table, poured
the contents into the bowl, and said that he could not go back on his
principles.
But Rex unfortunately is not of the stuff of which heroes are made. He
felt that he would rather endure a headache than the jeers of those
five fellows.
“Of course,” he said feebly, and drank off the glassful at one draft.
“And now for another,” said Stout, promptly filling it up again.
Rex had never signed the pledge, but he knew that his mother did not
want him to touch liquor. And it had been no deprivation for him to
refrain, as he did not like it. What he had just drunk burnt his throat
like fire. It seemed as if he could not possibly swallow any more.
His misery showed itself in his face. Atkins, who was standing just
opposite on the other side of the table on which the punch bowl had
been placed, saw it.
“I say, Pell,” he called out softly, “come here a minute.”
He stepped over to the open window, which looked out on an airshaft.
Wondering what he wanted, Rex followed him.
The others were busy with the punch.
“You don’t want that, I know,” whispered Atkins. “I don’t want any more
either. Look here.”
As he spoke, he dexterously emptied his glass out of the window. Rex
was quick to follow his example.
“Those fellows don’t know when they’ve had enough,” he said, “and
somebody ought to keep a level head on his shoulders to look out for
them.”
Rex’s heart sank within him. And it was for this that he had spent the
money he had been saving for his mother’s birthday gift! for this he
had deceived this mother! for this told those falsehoods to Roy!
“Are you fellows ready for another round?” called out Stout, looking
over at them. “Slip up to the captain’s office and get a settler.”
His voice already began to sound thick.
“We must go and pretend to join them,” Atkins whispered.
So glasses were filled for the third time, and on this occasion Atkins
retired with Rex to the other side of the room, and watching his
opportunity, poured his punch into the water pitcher. Rex, in trying to
do likewise, let slip the glass, and it fell with a crash into the
basin.
A roar of laughter greeted the incident.
“Good for you, Pell,” cried Tom Cheever. “Trying to infuse a little
life into the party. That’s right, my boy, that’s right.”
The fellow came over toward Rex, walking a little unsteadily, and with
such a leer in his eye that Rex shrank back against the wall.
At that moment Harrington came up and put his arm around Rex’s neck.
“I always said that Reggie Pell was a gentleman,” he mumbled. “Now you
can see it for yourselves.”
“And his clothes fit him,” added Dan Tilford, as a special mark of
approval.
“Oh, they imagine they’re having no end of sport,” whispered Atkins.
“Look at Harrington. He’s half seas over, too.”
He was so far over, indeed, that he was very ill for a time. It was a
fearful scene.
“Here, Pell,” Atkins called to him from the bed where he had gone to
look after Cheever. “See what you can do for your friend.”
And Rex went over to Harrington and tried to pilot him to a seat. Then
he held the other’s head and shut his eyes, while he wondered if there
was ever such a donkey on the face of the earth as he, Reginald Pell,
to do all that he had done for this.
If it hadn’t been close on to midnight he would have gone home there
and then. But now Harrington was well nigh helpless, and Rex knew
nothing about New York. Where was he going to sleep that night?
Harrington was in no condition to have questions put to him now.
A fixed look came over Rex’s face.
“I must go now,” he said, looking around for his hat and valise.
“What, you’re not going off and leave Harrington, are you?” asked
Atkins.
“I can’t do anything more for him and I must get out of this place.
Perhaps I’ll call in the morning to see how he is. Good night. I’m much
obliged to you.”
“Well, I suppose you are better off out of here, but aren’t you going
to hire a room in the hotel?”
“No, I want to get as far away from the place as possible.”
Rex noticed that Stout was looking around at him. He shut the door
quickly and hurried off. He breathed a great sigh of relief when he
reached the open air.
He turned down a side street to collect his thoughts before deciding
what to do. He wandered till he reached the middle of the block, then,
finding his valise heavy, he set it down on the sidewalk to rest a
minute.
It was after midnight and very quiet. Suddenly he felt something hit
him in the face, and then for a minute or two all was a blank to him.