A CHANGE IN WALTER
Dan had not taken any part in the bantering of the boys, but he none
the less enjoyed their light and easy way of looking at life. It was
all very different from his own early experiences. Since the death of
his father life had been a hard struggle. Every penny had to be counted
with care and the work on the farm was exacting. Early and late he had
toiled, though he never had thought of complaining. Tom and his mother
were laboring as hard as he. Indeed, most of his neighbors knew no more
than he did of the lighter side of life.
As the new boy listened to the conversation, he had enjoyed it all,
though it was difficult for him to understand how it was possible for
his friends to throw aside apparently all feeling of responsibility.
Someone must be working, and working hard too, to provide the means by
which all the advantages which were given them were to be had. And yet
no one seemed to be thinking of that nor of any responsibility that
came with such privileges. Although Dan was happy in his quiet way,
he was still at a loss to understand his friends. Their home training
had been different from his, their lives had been easy, plenty of
money had been given them, even their very clothing had an air which
Dan now realized made his own appear in a light of which he had never
once thought. As far as Rodman was concerned, he had always felt that
he appeared as well as any of the country boys――that is, if he ever
thought of such things at all.
At the Tait School, however, all was changed, and though Dan did not
quite understand as yet in just what the difference consisted, he still
was conscious that in his life some of the elements that appealed
strongly to him were lacking. Perhaps he was equally unaware that he
himself was possessed of certain very desirable qualities that were
lacking in the well-dressed, self-possessed boys who made up the new
world into which he had entered.
As the days passed, Dan found himself compelled to work hard in order
to maintain a place in the classes to which he had been assigned. He
had been out of school several years, and the work which he had tried
to do alone and even that in which Moulton had directed him had left
him poorly prepared. But there was in the country boy a spirit of
determination that counted for much. Mr. Hale, one of the teachers,
had apparently taken a special interest in the new boy. “Remember,
Richards,” he said to Dan one day, “ninety per cent of success means
work. Indeed, that is about all there is of it anyway. Genius is said
to be a capacity for work, and not much else. The great man is the man
who can do more than others. If you work you’ll win. Of course it must
be the right kind of work and it must be in the right way, for there is
a deal of difference between mere activity and true work.”
“I don’t think I quite understand,” Dan had said.
Mr. Hale laughed as he continued, “Did you see that house that was
being moved down the street yesterday?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Did you notice that the men had a horse to wind the rope around the
windlass and so pull the building?”
“Yes, sir; I saw that.”
“Well, yesterday afternoon I stopped to watch them a few minutes. The
poor old horse was freed from his task a minute, the rope was being
adjusted, I fancy, or there were some boards to be moved or something
to be done. But the poor old horse didn’t know. Without a word being
spoken to him he started in on his task again. Around and around he
traveled, keeping it up until the men took pity on him and stopped him.
He――I mean the horse, of course――didn’t know the difference, although
he wasn’t accomplishing a thing. The rope was not adjusted and in spite
of his steady trot around the windlass he wasn’t moving the house an
inch. He was ‘active’ enough, but he wasn’t doing any real work. Do you
see what I mean?”
“Yes, sir; I think I do,” said Dan thoughtfully.
“Don’t you know you do?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then you’ll come out all right in the end. You come to school to get
your brains in working order, but don’t forget that you must use your
brains in your work as well as learn how to work your brains.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Some of the boys here, even when they are studying with a teacher,
think they are studying just because they are holding books in their
hands. They’re like poor old Dobbin, who kept up his weary round when
there wasn’t any rope to be wound by the windlass.”
Dan’s eagerness to learn now increased with the passing days. He was
determined to profit by the friendly advice of Mr. Hale. His own
eagerness to learn was an additional incentive, born as it was of a
daily increasing consciousness of his own deficiencies. His work in
the classroom as yet was not sufficiently high to permit him to do
his studying in his own room, but in his heart he was glad that the
rule was enforced, for he thought that he could gain more in this way
than if he had been left to himself. Dan’s mind did not work rapidly,
but his steady and persistent efforts were already beginning to count
and every passing week found him a little farther advanced. The work
was hard and at times so discouraging to the new boy that he thought
of giving it all up and returning to the farm. However, he did not
refer to his feeling in the presence of his friends and fought so hard
against it that the temptation to give up became less with the rapidly
passing days.
Most of his friends in his own form or class were also among those who
were denied the privilege of studying in their rooms, Ned being the
only one to have a standing sufficiently high to obtain the privilege.
Hodge, Smith, Gus Kiggins, and Walter were loud in their complaints at
being compelled to do their work under the eye of Mr. Hale. Indeed,
Walter asserted repeatedly that he was denied the privilege because of
a prejudice against him, instead of his being judged on the merits of
his work.
As for Gus, Dan soon found that the boy was so deeply interested
in the work of the football team that apparently he had ignored or
forgotten his anger at the new boy. The league between the four schools
had been successfully arranged and the football games of the fall
were to be included. The four officers of the league were made up of
representatives of the different schools, Ned being the vice-president,
while the Military Academy obtained the presidency by virtue of its
success in the contests of the preceding year.
Carlton Hall too had gathered courage to meet at least a part of
his problems. Though it was difficult for him to learn to rely upon
himself, he had followed Dan’s advice and had no longer railed at the
boys who made his life one of discomfort and his room difficult to
live in. Even the threats of Gus Kiggins had, in a measure, ceased,
for the school bully, in his deep interest in the work of the football
team, had little time left for his petty tormenting of the homesick and
innocent little lad who had been placed in the school by his mother in
the fond hope that there he would acquire what she could not conceal
from herself he was not having under her weak and selfish indulgence.
Occasionally Dan had been out on the diamond with Samson, the gym
instructor and trainer, but the work had been only occasional. The
trainer was also the coach of the eleven and his duties did not leave
much spare time. On the other hand, Dan’s eagerness to work on his
studies had caused him to make use of the occasional half-holidays in
consulting with Mr. Hale or in studying in his own room. His success in
striking out the three heavy hitters as he had on his first appearance
on the diamond had established a certain reputation for him, which
steadily grew. He was awkward in his manner and very quiet-spoken in
his intercourse with his fellow students, although he was invariably
pleasant in his dealings. As a consequence he had come to occupy a
unique position in the life of the school.
Great things were expected of him, as he very well knew, and yet, at
the same time, though he was respected, he was not the intimate friend
of any. Ned had been with him, perhaps, more than any other boy, and
the two classmates were in the way of becoming fast friends. As for
Walter, his enthusiasm had apparently reached its highest point at the
beginning of the term and had been running down ever since. There were
times when, to Dan, his presence in Walter’s room seemed to be a source
of irritation which the latter was at no pains to conceal. Dan, after
his usual quiet manner, did not refer to what he saw nor to his own
feelings. He was still the same quiet earnest boy that he was when he
had first entered the Tait School.
He was troubled far more than he would acknowledge by the growing
intimacy of Walter and Gus. The latter had been a frequent visitor in
their rooms, where he either ignored Dan or made some slighting remark
which was intended to hurt. But as Dan seldom retorted, the pleasure
of the attempt was soon lost and of late it had been Walter who had
made the visits, seeking out Gus’s room several times daily. Twice Dan
ventured to remonstrate with his roommate, but each time Walter was
angry, and as Dan discovered that his protests apparently did more harm
than good he soon ceased his endeavors, although he still was deeply
troubled by the growing intimacy.
In this manner the fall days passed and the settled routine of the
life in the Tait School became less irksome to Dan. He was steadily
improving in his work, a fact which was noted by Walter as well as by
others.
“Dan, you’re just making a grind of yourself,” said Walter irritably
one day when the two boys were by themselves in their room.
“Am I?” asked Dan good-naturedly.
“Yes, you are. There are some things for a fellow to learn in school
besides Latin and math.”
“Yes, I have noticed that,” said Dan quietly.
“Then, why don’t you pay some attention to them?” asked Walter sharply,
his growing irritation becoming still more manifest. “I didn’t want to
room with a ‘chump.’”
Dan’s face flushed, as in a low voice he said, “What do you want me to
do, Walter?”
“Oh, stir around and do something. You’re never down to see the eleven
at work. You didn’t even come out to yell when we played the Atlas High
School off its feet. You just mope around over your books the whole
time. I don’t believe you’ve been out enough to keep your arm in shape,
now have you?”
“Not very often,” admitted Dan.
“Why don’t you do it? You know what the fellows expect. If you don’t
make the nine I’ll be the laughing-stock of the whole school. Brace up,
Dan! Gus Kiggins says――――”
“What does he say?” inquired Dan as his roommate hesitated.
“Oh, nothing much,” said Walter, laughing a little uneasily. “I guess
that Gus thinks about what all the fellows do.”
“What’s that?”
“Look here, Dan. You’ve just got to get into the school life, and
that’s all there is about it. You’re nothing but a grind.”
“If I were paying my own way I might feel differently.”
“Don’t bother your head about that. I guess my father won’t complain if
I don’t. What he wants is to――――”
“To what?”
“Oh, he’ll be satisfied if I am,” declared Walter lightly. “Why don’t
you come out to-morrow and get a look at the team? We play the Military
Academy next week, you know, and we want every fellow on deck. It’s our
hardest game. If you don’t show any school spirit how do you think the
fellows will feel when it’s your turn? You’ll want backing when you’re
pitching against the Military Academy nine.”
“I’ll come if you want me to,” said Dan quietly. “But――――” Dan stopped
abruptly as Gus Kiggins entered the room.