GERALD VISITS YARDLEY
The next afternoon Dan got into the scrimmage for a few minutes at
left end on the Second and put up such a snappy game that many of the
fellows opened their eyes, while Norton, whose place he had taken
watched him anxiously from the side-line. The Second was using the
forward pass and onside kick for all they were worth, and Ridge, the
captain, had taught it two or three rather clever variations of these.
The First was learning to hold its own, but now and then the forward
pass was pulled off successfully. In the second half of the twenty
minute scrimmage which followed practice Dan got by Dickenson twice and
in each case captured the ball on a forward pass for a good gain, the
second time getting away from the First Team players and landing the
pigskin on the twelve yards before being downed by Capes. It was a run
of forty yards and it brought the handful of watchers in the grandstand
to their feet. King, the Second Team quarter, hugged him ecstatically.
The First held and got the ball away and kicked out of danger, but it
had been a near thing for them and after the whistle had blown and the
players were back in the gymnasium Dan was viewed very respectfully by
the First Team fellows.
“That was a nice little romp of yours,” said Loring. “Someone told me,
though, that you weren’t playing any more.”
“That’s what I thought myself,” panted Dan as he struggled out of his
togs. “Payson forgot to put my name on the list and so I didn’t show
up yesterday or the day before. And yesterday afternoon Payson came up
to the room and began to give me fits for not reporting. I told him he
hadn’t put my name down.”
“That was one on him,” chuckled Loring. “He ought to give you a show on
the First before long. Hope he does.”
“I guess he won’t though. He told me yesterday that I didn’t have any
show for the First.”
“Candid, anyway, wasn’t he?” Loring laughed. “But don’t you care,
Vinton. I’ll tell you something about Payson. He’s a good coach and a
dandy fellow when you get to know him, but he never could size up his
men. He’s been fooled time and again. Last year he kept Mitchell on the
Second all season until just before the Broadwood game. Then Hughes
got hurt and Mitchell was moved over to substitute Littleton. In two
days he had Littleton looking like a base imitation, got his place at
tackle and played the dandiest sort of game against Broadwood. And he’s
one of our best men this year.”
“Oh, well, I’m willing to wait until next year,” answered Dan. “All I
want is the fun of playing. Of course I’d like mighty well to get on
your team, but Dickenson and Williams and Sayer are all better than I
am.”
Loring pursed his lips and looked doubtful.
“Well, Dickenson is a dandy, all right,” he said, “and Norton is
good, but--Still, it isn’t my place to criticise. It’s early yet, and
there’ll be plenty of changes before the twenty-third of November. Now
it’s me for the merry shower.” And with a blood-curdling yell Loring
disappeared behind the rubber curtains.
Dan had telephoned Gerald Pennimore at noon that he would not be
able to make his promised visit that day. Gerald had been very much
disappointed, and a little bit sulky. Eventually, however, Dan had made
his peace and Gerald had agreed to come to Yardley the next afternoon.
He arrived at a little before two o’clock. There were no recitations
Saturday afternoons and as the game with St. John’s Academy was not
called until three Dan had a full hour in which to show Gerald about.
The automobile was sent home and Dan conducted Gerald from building
to building. They did Oxford from top to bottom, saw the commons and
peeked into the kitchens, visited Merle and Dudley and then went up to
Dan’s room. Tubby was in and so he and Gerald were introduced. Tubby
was not at his best, and that’s saying a good deal. Gerald had found
everything very interesting and fascinating, but when he told Dan and
Tubby so the latter at once began to compare Yardley and Broadwood, the
result being decidedly unflattering to Yardley. That, thought Dan would
never do, and so he suddenly recollected that it was time for him to
get dressed for the game, and he hurried Gerald off before Tubby could
do any more damage.
“You mustn’t mind Tubby Jones,” said Dan as they cut across the yard.
“He’s a chronic kicker. If he was at Broadwood he’d want to be here.
Nothing ever quite suits Tubby.”
“Do you like him much?” asked Gerald.
“Oh, we get on well enough,” answered Dan. “But Tubby isn’t exactly
what you’d call a lovable character, although he really isn’t quite as
bad as he makes you think.”
“I don’t like him,” said Gerald decisively.
Gerald was vastly interested in the gymnasium and tried all the
apparatus in turn. Then they visited the trophy room, where Dan showed
him the football and baseballs which, inscribed with names and dates,
commemorated various victories on gridiron and diamond. There were
cups, too, and one or two banners dating back nearly thirty years, and
numerous framed photographs of Yardley teams. Gerald had a stream of
questions to ask, many of them quite beyond Dan’s ability to answer.
They looked into the boxing room and Gerald wanted Dan to show him
how to box, but Dan assured him that he hadn’t taken it up yet and
hurried him off downstairs. Gerald was allowed only a peep into the
locker room, for the football fellows were in possession. Then he was
sent back to the gymnasium to amuse himself until Dan had changed his
clothes. Later they went down to the field together and Dan bought
a ticket and placed Gerald in a lower seat on the stand. After the
substitutes had been sent to the side-line, Dan took his place beside
him and explained everything to the best of his ability. Gerald didn’t
know football very well and there was plenty of work for Dan.
St. John’s Academy had sent a pretty green team to Wissining and after
the first few minutes of play it was evident that Yardley would not
have to work very hard. Mr. Payson had taught his team no new plays
as yet and so only the simplest of old-fashioned football was used
by the home team. St. John’s was light and fairly fast and had been
coached to play an open game. There were numerous tries of the forward
pass but Yardley had little trouble in frustrating them. For the most
part Yardley kept the ball and used plays through the line, especially
outside of tackle, for good gains. The first half ended with the score
18 to 0 in favor of the Blue.
Gerald became much excited as the game went on and yelled himself red
in the face. By the time the struggle was over he had become a zealous
Yardley partisan and Dan secretly congratulated himself on his success.
In the second half most of the first string men were laid off and
substitutes took their places. But even so, Yardley managed to pile
up eleven more points, so that the contest terminated with the very
satisfactory score of 29 to 0 in Yardley’s favor. Gerald climbed into
the automobile at half-past five, declaring that he had had a dandy
time and that he was going to make his father let him come to all the
remaining football games. Dan promised to go down to Sound View the
next day, Sunday, for luncheon at one o’clock and Gerald went off
supremely contented.
“Getting pretty swell, aren’t we?” asked Tubby as Dan entered the room
after seeing his guest off. “Riding around in automobiles and leaving
cards on John T.”
“Don’t be nasty, Tubby,” answered Dan good-naturedly. “What did you
think of Gerald?”
“Got so you call him that, have you? I suppose you call his father
Uncle John, don’t you? Is he going to make you a present of a steamship
line or two to play with?”
“Tubby, your sarcasm isn’t delicate enough to amuse me. Cut it out!”
“Oh, I dare say! Getting kind of particular these days, aren’t you?
Sort of finicky and--and fastidious. I’ll bet you’ll be wearing
lemon-colored gloves to church to-morrow!”
“Now, look here, Tubby,” said Dan warmly. “That’s as much of your
ill-temper as I’m going to stand. If you can’t talk decently keep still
until you can. If you don’t you and I’ll get into trouble.”
As physical combat was something that Tubby had no love for, he
subsided promptly. He kept up an angry muttering for some minutes,
but he maintained all the time a careful eye on Dan who was getting
ready for dinner. After awhile he summoned sufficient courage to say
defiantly:
“You might as well keep that little Pennimore chump out of this room
while I’m in it, for I tell you right now, Dan Vinton, that he makes me
sick and I don’t intend to be sweet to him and lick his shoes even if
he is as rich as all get-out!”
“Tubby,” replied Dan very politely, “I never thought for a moment that
you could be sweet to anyone.”
“Is that so?” Tubby growled. “You think you’re smart, don’t you? That
little chump isn’t any better than I am, even if his father has money.
So has mine, for that matter. How did old John T. make his money,
anyhow? By grinding it out of the poor, that’s how! He’s just a great
big trust; owns all the steamships and puts the prices up, and--”
“Well, don’t let you and I worry about it,” said Dan. “We haven’t got
to buy any of his steamships. So the price doesn’t matter to us, Tubby.”
“Oh, I suppose you think he’s going to give you passes on them,” Tubby
jeered. “Why, he’s one of the meanest men in the country; everyone
knows that! I’ll bet you didn’t get anything but a bunch of thanks for
pulling his kid out of the fire!”
“Tubby!” said Dan warningly. “Cut it out now. I told you once!”
“Huh!” said Tubby.
The next day Dan walked over to Sound View from church and found
Gerald impatiently awaiting him at the lodge.
“I thought you weren’t coming,” exclaimed Gerald. “I’ve been waiting
half an hour. Say, I told father about the football game and he’s
promised to let me go again some time. Isn’t that great?”
Dan agreed that it was, and all the way along the winding road to the
house Gerald talked football with the enthusiasm of a new convert. Dan
had to promise to show him how to drop-kick and how to tackle.
“You’d soon get the hang of it, though,” said Dan, “if you’d go over in
the afternoons and see the fellows practice. Then you could get your
ball and try it yourself.”
“But father won’t let me go over there, I guess; at any rate, not
unless my tutor goes along. And that wouldn’t be any fun, would it?
I’d like to learn something about football now because I mean to go to
school next year.”
“Will your father let you?”
“I’m going to keep after him until he does,” answered Gerald. “I wish I
had some brothers and sisters,” he added gloomily.
“Yes, it wouldn’t be nearly so lonesome,” said Dan sympathetically.
“Oh, it isn’t that! But if father had some more children he wouldn’t
be so blamed careful of me!”
“What school are you thinking about?” Dan asked carelessly.
“Oh, I don’t know,” was the vague reply. “Father used to talk about
Broadwood a year or so ago. But I don’t want to go there. Then there is
a school in New York City he fancies. I guess he likes that because I
could live at home. But that wouldn’t be the same thing at all, would
it? Say, are you going to be at Yardley next year?”
“Hope to,” answered Dan. Gerald was silent a moment. There was
evidently something he wanted to say. Finally,
“I’d like to go to Yardley if you were going to be there,” he said
rather shyly.
“I’d like to have you,” replied Dan heartily. “Why don’t you ask your
father to let you come next Fall?”
“Do you think I could pass the examinations?”
“Yes, I’m pretty sure you could. You ought to make the Third Class.”
“Would you be in that?”
“No, Second Class next year, unless I failed at my finals. You’d have
to study fairly hard if you came to Yardley, but it would be lots
easier than what you’re doing now, I guess. When you are going along
with a lot of other fellows it doesn’t seem so bad.”
“No, that’s just it,” said Gerald aggrievedly. “There’s no fun in being
the only fellow in class.”
“Has your father found a new tutor yet?”
“No.” Gerald’s face brightened. “And he can’t get one before Tuesday or
Wednesday, anyhow. That gives me three days more vacation, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, if he doesn’t come until Wednesday,” answered Dan with a smile at
the younger boy’s delight.
“Say,” said Gerald presently, “are you going to room with that Jones
fellow next year?”
“Not if I--no, I don’t think so.” Dan was silent an instant, thinking
hard. Then, “I tell you what,” he said. “You get your father to let you
come to Yardley and then, if you like, you and I’ll arrange to room
together. That is, if your father wanted you to.”
“Will you do that?” cried Gerald eagerly. “That would be fine! I’ll ask
him to-day! He thinks you’re great, Vinton; he said so the other night.
If I tell him I can room with you, maybe he will let me go! Come on,
there he is on the terrace!”