WATTLES INTERVENES
Returning from Cotterville, Tom alone of the four occupants of the car
was downcast. Loring had discounted the defeat, Mr. Cooper accepted it
with cheerful philosophy and Wattles maintained a thoughtful silence
that, unnoted by the others, was at moments slightly perturbed, even
anxious. He listened to the discussion, which lasted most of the way to
Freeburg, but volunteered speech only once. Then he inquired of Loring:
“If Mr. Tom had taken part, sir, we might have won, do you think?”
Loring said “Yes,” and Tom grunted. “I might have been worse than any
of them,” he said. “You can’t tell. One fellow slips up and then the
whole infield goes on the blink. It’s catching!”
“Just the same,” replied Loring, “I wish you were going to be in there
to-morrow!”
After the school had been reached, Wattles attended to Loring’s comfort
and then with a cough said: “If you’ll not be needing me for a short
time, sir, there’s a small matter I’d like to attend to.”
Loring, studying the score he had kept of the afternoon’s game, nodded
absently. “I’m all right. Don’t hurry back, Wattles.”
“Thank you, sir.” Wattles set his black derby very carefully in place
and departed.
Mr. Connover lived in Number 21 West Hall, and thither Wattles made
his way. His knock on the door brought a faint invitation to enter,
and when he had done so a voice proceeding from the bathroom called,
“Make yourself at home. I’ll be out in a minute.” Wattles sat down in
a chair, placed his derby crosswise on his knees and placed a hand on
each end of the brim, quite as though he feared a strong gust of wind
might whisk the precious hat away. The minute became several minutes,
and then the baseball coach emerged from the bedroom, tying the cords
of his bath-robe and looking very clean and cheerful.
“Ah, it’s Wattles,” he said.
“Yes, sir.” Wattles arose to make the admission.
“Well, sit down. What can I do for you? Or, I suppose, Mr. Deane.”
“I took the liberty of coming on my own account, sir,” replied Wattles
a trifle nervously.
“Oh! Well, glad to see you. Just what――ah――”
“Mr. Connover, I witnessed the game this afternoon, and I saw how
things are going. Our infield, sir, is not――” Wattles hesitated and
shook his head gently――“is not what it should be.”
Steve looked distinctly surprised. “I didn’t know you were a fan,
Wattles. However, what you say is absolutely true. Our infield leaves
much to be desired. Or it did this afternoon.”
“Yes, sir, and that’s why I took the liberty of coming. I’d like to
speak to you about Mr. Tom, sir.”
“Who’s Mr. Tom, Wattles?”
“Mr. Kemble, sir, I should say.”
“Oh, I see. Well, frankly, Wattles, I wouldn’t bother. That incident is
closed. I don’t think there is anything you could say that would help
Kemble to get his position back, and that, I imagine, is what you are
here for. I appreciate your interest, Wattles, but really it’s no good.”
“Very well, sir. Then may I tell you what I learned about the young
gentleman simply as a――simply as a matter of interest? That is, sir, if
I’m not taking your time from more important affairs.”
“That part’s all right. I’ve nothing to do until supper time, but―― Oh,
all right, Wattles, shoot!”
So Wattles shot. He made rather a long story of it, choosing his words
very carefully as was proper when conversing with a member of the
faculty. And when he had finally finished Mr. Connover asked: “Wattles,
are you quite sure you’ve got that right?”
“Oh, absolutely, sir. I was in Mr. Loring’s room when Mr. Tom told
about it. The facts are just as I’ve stated them, sir.”
“Hm.” Mr. Connover shook his head in smiling exasperation. “It would
have been a lot simpler if you hadn’t told me this, Wattles. Of course,
I didn’t know that Kemble had taken up arms on my account, and I’ll
not deny that it makes a difference in my personal feelings toward the
boy. But, Wattles, it doesn’t affect the fact that Kemble disobeyed the
regulations flagrantly. I was obliged to discipline him, and even so I
let him off a good deal easier than I might have――possibly should have!
The deuce of it is that, having learned this, I’m bound to feel rather
a blighter for having punished him!”
“Well, sir, you didn’t know,” reminded Wattles.
“No, and now that I do know I’m afraid it can’t alter things any. You
understand that, Wattles?”
“Well, sir, asking your pardon,” replied Wattles, “I’d like to say
that, as I understand it, the law recognizes mitigating circumstances.
I’ve been reading a bit of law, sir, this winter,” he added
apologetically.
“Granted, but the judge should also be unswayed by personal――er――feelings.
The fact that Kemble disobeyed the rules out of――well, let us say
loyalty to me, Wattles, ought not to affect my decision.”
“Oh, absolutely not, sir!”
“Well, then, there we are.” Mr. Connover smiled gently.
“Quite so, sir. When I suggested mitigating circumstances I had in
mind the fact that Mr. Tom had the――the quarrel forced on him, Mr.
Connover. He refused to engage with the other gentleman at that time
and place, sir. It was not until the other young gentleman insisted and
struck him, sir, that Mr. Tom――er――consented.”
“Oh,” said Mr. Connover, and then: “Oh, I see,” he added thoughtfully.
“Hm. Yes, there’s that, isn’t there?” And, after another pause: “Look
here, Wattles, if I were you I’d keep on reading law,” he said. “I
honestly would!”
“Thank you, sir. I’ve been considering the study of it.”
“Fine! Now suppose you go on with the case. Suppose you were in my
place, Wattles, eh?”
“It’s very kind of you, sir, to give――to receive my――”
“Not at all. What is your idea of the situation that exists at present?
Frankly, after what you’ve told me I’d be mighty glad to reverse my
decision if I could see an honest way to do it.”
“Well, Mr. Connover, as I look at it, it’s the other young gentleman
who should bear the――the brunt of the punishment.”
“Well, yes, it does look that way. In other words, I should have
excused Kemble for the day and dropped Coles from the squad. I’m
afraid I didn’t give either of them a fair chance to explain what
had occurred. Not, however, that Coles appeared anxious to do any
explaining. Of course, if I did drop Coles now it would look a
bit――well, odd. Belated justice, eh?”
“Yes, sir. And to-morrow being the last day of school, sir――”
“True.” Mr. Connover’s eyes twinkled, and he seemed to be enjoying
himself hugely. “On the other hand, Wattles, there’s no reason why
I shouldn’t, considering the mitigating circumstances, reduce the
sentence inflicted on Kemble, which I now see was excessive, to――well,
to forty-eight hours――or thereabouts. Does that sound correct?”
“Oh, absolutely, sir,” replied Wattles gravely.
“Then,” went on the coach, pursuing his thoughts, “with both Kemble and
Coles in good standing on the team it only remains to determine which
of the two in my humble opinion is likely to best fill the position
of second baseman. Wattles, you have cleared up a difficult position
beautifully, and if we should be fortunate enough to win to-morrow you
may take a large share of the credit to yourself. In fact, Wattles, to
use an expression current about the campus, I’ve got to hand it to you!”
Mr. Connover arose and held out his hand. Wattles, seriously
embarrassed, took it.
After supper the Triumvirate met as usual, and, as usual, Mr. Cooper
joined the gathering before long. Clif arrived still depressed,
although a hearty supper had somewhat leavened his woe. Before long he
was taking a far less tragic view of his guilt, for Tom and Loring
went to some pains to prove that, even if he had erred, he was not
chargeable with the loss of the game.
“Suppose you’d caught the ball,” said Loring. “That would have made
only the second out, and one of those runs would have crossed in any
case; probably both of them, for those guys reached the plate only
about four yards apart. But even if your throw-in had nabbed the
second, Wolcott would still have beaten us by one run.”
“As far as that goes,” declared Tom, “if the infield hadn’t gone flooey
those runners would never have been on bases! You should worry over
dropping a fly after three infield errors had been chalked up!”
“Still, it was an awful thing to do,” said Clif rather more cheerfully.
“I――I don’t know yet how it happened. I _caught_ the ball all right,
but, gee, somehow――”
“You were too anxious to make the throw,” said Tom. “I’ve seen the same
thing happen lots of times. Forget it, old son, and make up for it
to-morrow.”
“I will if I get the chance,” sighed Clif, “but I guess Steve isn’t
likely to let me play to-morrow.”
“Oh, I don’t know. He needs hitters, Clif, and you’re certainly hitting
better than Al Greene.”
“I didn’t do much yesterday except for that one single.”
“Say, how do you get that way?” demanded Tom. “My Sainted Aunt Jerusha,
didn’t that hit send in two runs? You’re cuckoo!”
Wattles, who was already sorting out Loring’s wardrobe for packing on
the morrow, said no word when, later, Tom remarked dolefully: “Heck, I
wish I were going to be in that rumpus to-morrow. I’ll just bet I could
knock the tar out of that Osterman guy! I’ll bet I’ve got his number
all right now!”
There was no study hour these evenings, and the conclave in Loring’s
room continued almost to bedtime, and as often as the talk wandered
away from the final game with Wolcott just so often it switched back
again before many minutes. That game was the principal subject of
debate that evening all through the school, and even the enthralling
occupation of packing up for departure Thursday morning was everywhere
interrupted while the question of whether Steve would pitch Ogden or
Frost or whether Cobham would be back of the plate was thrashed out.
While Wattles was massaging Loring that night the latter emerged from a
period of silent abstraction to say: “Wattles, you said once you were
pretty sure you had seen Mr. Cooper before. Remember?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, did you ever happen to remember about it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You did! Well, why the dickens didn’t you tell me?”
“Possibly the opportunity didn’t occur, Mr. Loring.”
“Opportunity my eye! You’ve had heaps of opportunities. I say, don’t
bear down so plaguy hard! Where was it you saw him, Wattles, and how’d
you happen to remember?”
“It came to me one evening, sir, when I was cleaning some of your
cravats. Mr. Cooper said he wasn’t an American, if you’ll remember, but
an Englishman.”
“Sure, I remember that, and how surprised I was.”
“Yes, sir, so was I, for if I may say so the gentleman wouldn’t strike
one as a Britisher, doubtless owning to his having been away from
England so much, sir. It was when he said that that I remembered the
occasion of our former――that is to say, the occasion when I had seen
him before.”
“Really?” asked Loring interestedly. “Go on, Wattles. Shoot the works.”
“I beg pardon, sir?” said Wattles startledly.
“Meaning tell the whole story,” laughed Loring.
“Very good, sir, though there’s not much to tell. I may not have
mentioned it to you before, Mr. Loring, but the reason I came to this
country was the War.”
“The War! No, you never told me that, Wattles.”
“Yes, sir. You see, they wouldn’t have me on account of my eyes. Myopia
they called it. I tried to get in twice, Mr. Loring, but I couldn’t
wangle it. I don’t think folks were so unreasonable on this side,
sir, but over there in England they made it frightfully uncomfortable
for chaps like me. Slackers they called us, and worse than that, Mr.
Loring. I couldn’t stand it after a bit, and I came over here. But
that’s got nothing to do with what I started to tell you. After I’d
been here about three years I happened down the avenue in New York,
sir, and there was a gentleman, a British officer in uniform, making a
speech from a platform. In Madison Square it was, I believe. Well, sir,
I listened to him for quite a while. He spoke well. Told about what
the Tommies and the others had to go through in the trenches, and put
it fairly strong, sir. You understand, Mr. Loring, he was speaking for
one of the Liberty Bond drives, as they called them. Well, sir, he put
it over nicely, and there was a lot that heard him that dug right down
on the spot. I remember there was a placard behind him that said ‘Give
Till It Hurts!’ and he turned to it and said, ‘That’s the idea, men!
Give till it hurts! Not you, mind! It’s not you it will hurt! It’s the
enemy! Every dollar you loan to your Government hurts him! And you’ve
got to go on hurting him until he can’t stand it any longer! Give till
it hurts!’ Well, sir, maybe those weren’t his exact words, but they’re
like what he said, and they hit hard, Mr. Loring. I’d bought two bonds,
but I stepped up and I took another one, sir!”
“And that was Mr. Cooper!” exclaimed Loring.
“Yes, sir, that was him. A fine looking soldier he looked, too, Mr.
Loring, and not till he’d finished his speech did I see that he had to
use a crutch to walk back to the chair, sir.”
“He’d been wounded, eh? Gee, that’s interesting! And I’m sort of
relieved, Wattles, because I rather gathered from the way you spoke
that when you saw him before he wasn’t――well, that there was something
a bit off-color about him.”
“Yes, Mr. Loring, I felt that way about it myself; rather as if the
gentleman was connected with some unpleasant incident. Memory’s a very
odd thing, sir. You see, I didn’t want to buy that bond; leastways,
I did and I didn’t, Mr. Loring, if you understand me. I thought I
couldn’t afford it, sir, but then, talking like he did, I couldn’t help
buying it. Maybe I had that in my mind, do you see? Not wanting to buy
that bond and him just making me! Likely, Mr. Loring, that was where
the unpleasantness――er――came into it!”
“Wattles,” chuckled Loring, “you’re a scream.”
“Yes, sir,” replied Wattles. “The other leg, please, sir.”