THE IMPROVEMENT SOCIETY HAS A SETBACK
“You tell him,” said Roy, subsiding on to an inverted bucket with a
sigh.
“No, sir,” answered Chub; “you’re chairman and you’ve got to make the
report to the--er--meeting.”
“Well, you don’t have to tell me anything,” said Harry, who had just
entered and was unbuttoning the cape which she had worn across from the
Cottage. “Papa told mama about it at supper. He--he thinks it’s a joke!”
“That’s right,” said Roy ruefully, “that’s just what he does think.”
“But you told him it wasn’t, didn’t you?” Dick demanded impatiently.
“Yes, several times, but he only smiled and said he guessed it wasn’t
quite practical--”
“Practicable,” corrected Chub.
“Practical!”
“Practicable; I noticed especially and thought what a nice word it was.”
“Look here, I’m chairman, and if I say practical--”
“Practical it is,” said Chub. “I’ll lick the first fellow that says
anything else. I remember perfectly--”
“Cut it out, you two, and talk sense!” said Dick. “Do you mean that he
has forbidden us to go ahead with it?”
Roy looked at Chub and Chub looked at Roy, and presently each shook his
head.
“No, he didn’t forbid anything,” answered Roy finally. “He just laughed
and--and--”
“Acted as though he was humoring a couple of mild lunatics,” added Chub
resentfully.
“But what objections did he make?” Dick asked.
“Objections? Oh, he wasn’t very--what do you call it?--specific. He
thought at first we were fooling and then when we both told him we
weren’t, that we’d started the scheme and that we’d made him honorary
president, he--”
“Laughed as though he had a fit,” finished Chub, smiling broadly
himself in recollection.
“But what did he _say_?”
“Oh, he said he guessed we wanted a dormitory, but that we’d better not
force events--or something like that; said thirty thousand was a big
sum to raise and that maybe we’d better wait awhile and see--see how
things shaped themselves.”
“Whatever that means,” added Chub.
“Did he accept the honorary presidency?” Dick asked.
“I don’t know; he said something polite, but I don’t believe he was
much impressed.”
“But he didn’t decline it?”
“No; did he, Chub?”
“Nary a decline,” Chub chuckled. “He said something about you, Dick.”
“What was it?”
“Said he liked your enterprise, but maybe you’d better apply some of it
to your studies.”
“I’m disappointed in papa,” said Harry sorrowfully.
“Oh, well, don’t you care,” Chub replied cheerfully. “We’ve had a lot
of fun out of the scheme. I guess none of us really expected to make
a go of it, anyhow, so there’s no sense in being disappointed. I move
that the treasurer be instructed to return the subscriptions and that
the Ferry Hill School Improvement Society be declared disbanded.”
There was silence. Harry and Roy looked questioningly at Dick, who, in
turn, was gazing thoughtfully at the lantern.
“Any one second that?” continued Chub.
Again silence fell. Finally Dick looked up.
“There’s no use in you folks trying to bust up the society,” he said;
“because if you do I’ll organize it again.”
“What?” exclaimed Chub. “But what’s the use, Dick? We can’t do anything
without the Doctor’s help, and he’s as good as told us to forget it!”
“He hasn’t forbidden us to raise the money for a new dormitory,”
said Dick doggedly, “and I, for one, am going to go ahead. If any of
the rest of you want to stay in and help, all right; if not, you can
withdraw and I’ll go it alone.”
“I want to stay!” cried Harry promptly.
“Well--” began Roy.
“Oh, you can’t scare me,” said Chub. “If you want to go ahead, I’m
right with you. I don’t see what we can do, but I’ll stick as long as
any one. We’ll nail the flag to the mast, by jingo! ‘Shoot, if you
will, this old grey head, but spare your country’s flag! she said!’”
And Chub danced a jig on the barn-floor, his shadow leaping about huge
and grotesque against the wall.
“I don’t want to drop out,” declared Roy. “I’m as much in earnest about
this as any of you. But what’s your scheme, Dick?”
“Haven’t any,” answered Dick promptly. “But I’ll find one pretty quick.
Ferry Hill’s going to have that dormitory! You wait and see! It may
take longer than I thought, but it’s coming. I’ll think up a way, all
right; just you give me time.”
“Good for you!” said Chub soberly. “I believe you will, Dickums. And
I’m with you. I never believed much in that dormitory before, but
hanged if I can’t pretty near see it to-night!”
“You could make a fellow believe in any old thing, Dick,” laughed Roy.
“You ought to be a general or something in the army and lead forlorn
hopes.”
“What’s a forlorn hope?” demanded Chub. But no one paid any attention
to him.
“Then I’m still secretary and treasurer!” cried Harry. “I was _so_
afraid you were going to break up the Society!”
“No, we’re not going to do anything of the sort,” said Dick stoutly.
“We’re going right ahead, only we’re going to keep it quiet until we
get things started. We can’t look for help from the honorary president,
and so--”
“From who?” asked Roy.
“The honorary president, Doctor Emery. He hasn’t declined the office,
so he’s still it, whether he knows anything about it or not.”
“That’s lovely!” cried Harry, clapping her hands and beating her heels
against the grain chest on which she was seated. “It’s such a dandy
joke on papa!”
“Well, he won’t help us,” Dick went on, “and so we’ll have to make
a new start in a new direction. And I’ll have to find what that new
direction is. But you folks want to think about it, too; four heads are
better than one. And now, as it seems to be about a thousand degrees
below zero in here, I move we adjourn.”
“When’s the next meeting?” asked Harry.
“I don’t know. We won’t have another until somebody has thought up
something. We’ll adjourn subject to the call of the president.”
“That’s great!” said Chub. “I never did that before. It makes me feel
real chesty. The secretary and treasurer will kindly carry the lantern
so she won’t break her neck. I hope the next time we hold a meeting
the janitor will manage to have the rooms of the society a little more
comfortable as regards heat. I think I have chilblains.”
“Let’s discharge that janitor,” laughed Roy as they went out.
“All right,” agreed Dick. “Who is he?”
“Methuselah,” answered Chub promptly.
* * * * *
Two days later Chub and Roy encountered each other in the campus. As
though at a prearranged signal each exclaimed:
“Where’s Dick?”
Then again, speaking together like members of a chorus:
“That’s what I was going to ask,” they added.
“What’s become of him?” added Roy. “I haven’t seen him more than twice
since Monday night.”
“Nor I, I guess. I thought maybe he was at the Cottage, but Harry says
she hasn’t seen him.”
“Was he at dinner?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Well, I wonder where--I tell you! Maybe he’s in the library. Did you
look there?” Roy shook his head.
“No, that seemed an unlikely place to find him. What would he be doing
there?”
“Search me,” said Chub. “Maybe he’s grinding. He’s been having a hard
old time lately, I guess, with Cobb; Cobb asked him in class the other
day if he had ‘an inherent antipathy’ for French.”
“What did Dick say?” asked Roy with a smile.
“Said no, he guessed it was ‘a constitutional repugnance!’”
“Lovely!” laughed Roy. “Was Cobb peeved?”
“No, he just sort of grinned and told Dick he’d better amend his
constitution. Let’s go over and see if he’s there.”
So they got into sweaters and gloves again and battled their way across
to School Hall. At first glance their search looked to be fruitless,
for none of the half-dozen boys about the big table in the library
proved to be Dick. But Roy stepped inside the door and spied their
quarry down in a corner of the room by the magazine shelves. He was
seated on the top of the little step-ladder with a magazine spread open
on his knees and his head bent closely above it. Roy and Chub tiptoed
softly toward him, but he heard them coming, and smiled placidly as
they drew near. Roy thought he turned the pages of the magazine, but
was not sure; at all events when Roy snatched it out of his hands it
was opened at an article entitled “The Art of Fly-Casting.”
“What are you reading that silly rot for?” he whispered. “Come on over
to the study-room and talk to us.”
But Dick shook his head calmly.
“I’m very comfortable here,” he answered. “I’m improving my mind.”
“Well, I don’t say that isn’t possible,” whispered Chub scathingly;
“but you’d better be studying other things than fly-casting. Come on,
Dick.”
But Dick was obdurate and as the rules forbade noise or scuffling in
the library they were forced to let him have his way. But they had the
satisfaction of telling him softly but earnestly what they thought of
him, and Chub even managed dexterously to get a grip on his neck and
force him to rub his nose against the magazine before leaving him.
When they reached the door and looked back Dick was once more intently
reading.
“Silly chump!” growled Chub as they reached the hall. “What’s he want
to study fly-casting for, especially at this time of year?”
“I don’t believe he was reading that at all,” answered Roy. “I think he
turned the pages before we got to him.”
“He did? Let’s go over after supper and look through that magazine. Did
you notice what it was?”
“Yes, but not what number; and as there’s a whole row of them I guess
we’d have a long hunt. We’ll make him tell us the truth when we get
hold of him.”
“All right. I’ll bet he’s up to something, though.”
But when supper was over and they looked around for Dick that person
had again disappeared. They searched the two dormitories and then
traveled across to the library again. There sat the missing one,
perched once more on the top of the step-ladder with a magazine before
him. This time they didn’t enter, for Mr. Buckman was on the other side
of the room and they knew he would not allow any conversation. For a
while they huddled about the radiator in the corridor and waited for
Dick to appear. But he didn’t come, and as each had studying to do,
presently they were forced to depart without him. But Dick couldn’t
hope to elude vengeance forever, and when bedtime came he found himself
in the hands of his enemies.
“How’s your mind coming on?” asked Chub very sweetly, as he pulled Dick
over backward on his bed and sat on him. “Improving, is it?”
“Know all about fly-casting by this time, I suppose,” remarked Roy, as
he rubbed the captive’s nose the wrong way. “It’s a fine thing to know
about, fly-casting, Dick.”
“Oh, great!” Chub agreed, jumping himself up and down to an accompaniment
of groans from Dick. “When I consider, Roy, how little I know about
fly-casting I’m utterly appalled at my ignorance. And think of the time
we’re wasting, too! Why, we might be out on the river all day long, Roy,
casting the merry little fly across the ice. Think of that, will you?”
“Let me up!” groaned Dick.
“What? Let you up? Why, Chub, I think you’re sitting on the gentleman!
How careless of you! Kindly remove yourself from the Champion
Fly-Caster of Ferry Hill School. Let him up, Chub, and he will cast a
few flies for us. Kindly look around, Chub, and catch a fly or two.”
“Don’t tell me,” begged Chub almost tearfully, “that this gentleman
here is Mr. Somes, the World-Famed Fly-Caster! Don’t tell me that I
have offered such an indignity to one so--so honored! I beg of you not
to tell me, Roy!”
“You get--off of me--or I’ll tell--you something--you won’t want
to--hear!” gasped Dick, kicking wildly.
“The gentleman seems uneasy, Roy,” said Chub. “Supposing you place your
thumb on his nose and bear down gently but firmly. There, that’s it! I
beg your pardon, sir? You will do what? You will kick-- Roy, did you
ever hear such language in all your life? Isn’t it disgraceful? Why,
he absolutely threatens us with bodily harm! My dear Mr. Fly-Caster,
let me beg of you to calm yourself! There, I feared you would hurt
yourself! That iron is quite hard, isn’t it! Broken your shin? Oh, I
trust not, Mr. Fly-Caster.”
“Let him up,” laughed Roy. “We’ll be late for bed, the whole bunch of
us.”
“Then let us _fly_,” said Chub. With a bound he cleared the bed just
ahead of the blow Dick aimed and went racing down-stairs to the Junior
Dormitory. Roy made for the washroom and as Dick was encumbered with
some of the bedclothes which had wrapped themselves about his legs
during the struggle, he reached it in safety and was able to stand off
the enemy with a tooth-mug filled with water until terms of peace were
agreed upon.
Strange to say, on the following day Dick was again mysteriously
missing, and this time he was not to be discovered anywhere. The
corner of the library was deserted, he was not in the dormitory or
the gymnasium, Harry had not seen him and, in short, he seemed to
have taken wings and flown. Roy and Chub were on their mettle and were
resolved to find him and bring him to book. But at four o’clock in the
afternoon, after a whole hour’s search, they were forced to own defeat.
“I don’t see where he _can_ be,” said Chub. “We’ve looked everywhere.
Look here! I’ll just bet that Harry knows where he is! Let’s go over
and make her own up.”
But Harry vowed that she knew nothing of Dick’s whereabouts and the
others were again stumped.
“It’s mighty funny,” growled Chub. “And he’s up to something too; you
mark my words! He’s up to mischief!”
“And we’re not in it,” grieved Roy.
“Oh!” cried Harry suddenly. “Have you tried the barn?”
“No!” answered the others in a breath. “Come on!”
They raced together along the curving drive and reached the barn quite
out of breath. Chub held up a warning finger.
“He must be in here,” he whispered. “We’ve looked everywhere else. So
let’s surprise him. Go easy and I’ll try the door.”
They tiptoed up and Chub lifted the wooden latch. The door yielded.
With a frightful yell Chub threw the door open and they darted in.
There was no one in sight.