I must acknowledge that it took a good deal of resolution on Kid’s
part to drop those two nickels in and seal them up. They looked very
large and desirable just then. And after he had sealed the letter he
was strongly tempted to recover his money and postpone embarking in
business until after the receipt of his next remittance from home. But
to his credit be it said that he nobly resisted the temptation and,
lest his resolution might not hold out, hurried downstairs and dropped
the letter irrevocably in the post box outside the front door. Then,
somewhat excited by the prospect of so much wealth, he returned to
the window-seat and with pencil and paper carried on his business in
imagination to a point where he had disposed of some ten dozen boxes
of Tinkham’s Throat-Ease and was rich beyond the dreams of avarice. He
would have been still richer if the dinner bell had not sounded just
then.
After that there was nothing to do but wait for the tablets to arrive.
Kid tried to bear himself modestly, but the thought of so much riches
couldn’t fail to reflect itself on his countenance and in his bearing.
Stanley Pierce asked him what the trouble was and Kid, smiling
knowingly, said “Nothing, thank you.”
“You look like the cat that swallowed the canary,” growled Stanley.
“You’ve been up to some mischief, that’s what, Kid. What you been
doing?”
“Nothing,” replied Kid virtuously.
Stanley viewed him suspiciously. “Well, don’t try anything on me, Kid,
or I’ll tan your hide for you. No more mutinies, either. Run over and
tell Sam I want to borrow his lexicon; left mine in hall.”
The next day Small appeared with his design for the trophy. As the
school at large was to know nothing about it until the presentation was
made, Small had to be very careful with his design, and it was only
exhibited when none of the older fellows were about. That is why Small
hung around Kid’s room until Stanley took offense and put him out.
Later, though, Small, having watched through the crack of his door for
Stanley’s departure, returned stealthily and Kid was accorded a look at
the drawing.
“If anyone comes,” whispered Small, “shove it out of sight quick. Here,
you’ve got it upside down!”
“Oh, have I?” Kid viewed it earnestly. “I thought it was going to be a
mug,” he ventured at last.
“We――ell, mugs are so common, I thought I’d make it a vase. Don’t you
think that’s a very graceful shape? Nan’s tickled to death with it.”
“What’s all this?” Kid pointed to the embellishment. “What’s that
thing?”
“That’s a wreath of laurel leaves,” replied Small a trifle exasperatedly.
“And those are crossed bats, and that’s a ball. The inscription will be
underneath there; see? I didn’t put that on because I don’t letter very
well. Do you like it?”
“I guess it will do,” replied Kid, “but I don’t know that I just like
the shape of it. It looks too much like a water pitcher, doesn’t it?”
“No, it doesn’t! If you knew anything about art you’d know that that is
a very beautiful shape. It――it’s Etruscan.”
“Is it? Well, just the same it looks like a pitcher and I may decide to
have it changed.”
“_You_ may decide to have it changed!” Small laughed hoarsely. “What
have you got to say about it? I’m the one that’s doing this, Kid.”
“Well, I’m the one that’s paying for it, ain’t I?”
“Why――why, you’re paying some, maybe,” faltered Small. “But you haven’t
any more say about it than the rest of us.”
“I guess if that mug’s ever made it’ll be my money that pays for it,”
replied Kid calmly. “The rest of you fellows haven’t any more idea of
earning money than――than――than nothing at all! I’m the only one that
will have any when the time comes and I guess I’ll have to pretty much
foot the whole bill.”
Small laughed again, quite insultingly this time. “Gee, you hate
yourself, don’t you, Kid? To hear you talk anybody’d think you were a
John D. Rockefeller――until he thought again! I’ll bet I’ll have more
money than you, Kid!”
Kid smiled patiently. “Piffle! A couple of piffles! You wait and see,
Small; that’s all I ask you to do; just wait and see! I may not be any
John D. Rockefeller, son, but I’ve got more business head than you ever
thought of having.”
“Huh! You! Give me my drawing! You make me tired, you do!” Small was
plainly incensed and Kid suddenly recalled the fact that it wouldn’t
do to have Small angry if he was to be asked to purchase a box of the
celebrated Tinkham’s Throat-Ease.
“Well, you needn’t get huffy,” said Kid. “I didn’t say anything, did I?”
“Yes, you did! You said this looked like a water pitcher!”
“Well, aren’t water pitchers all right, Small? Can’t there be――be
beauty in a water pitcher? I didn’t say I didn’t like your drawing, did
I?”
“You said maybe you’d have it changed, didn’t you?”
“Can’t you take a joke? Gee, you’re getting touchy! I guess it’s the
artistic temper in you, Small. Artists are always touchy. I didn’t say
I didn’t like it. I couldn’t say that, because I do like it――awfully.”
“Yes, you do!” growled Small, mollified nevertheless.
“I do, honest! Cross my heart, Small! I think it’s a dandy drawing.
Wish I could draw like that.”
Small viewed him suspiciously, but Kid’s cherubic countenance seemed
without guile. Small, much flattered and highly pleased, stammered that
it wasn’t much and that he could show Kid how to do it if he, Kid,
wanted him to. Kid thanked him and promised to give the matter thought.
Then,
“Say, you’ve got a cough, haven’t you?” he said.
Small looked surprised. “Who? Me? No, I haven’t any cough.”
“Then what are you coughing for?” demanded Kid.
“I’m not! I haven’t coughed all winter.”
“Oh! Then I suppose I imagined it. You want to be careful of a cough
this time of year. First thing you know you’ll have tonsilitis or――or
pneumonia or something.”
Small looked concerned and promptly coughed. The cough surprised him
and when Kid kindly thumped him on the back and asked where it hurt
him, Small went into a regular paroxysm of coughing that left him
crimson-faced and alarmed.
“Gee,” he exclaimed, when he could get his breath, “I didn’t know I had
any cough! Funny how things kind of――kind of creep up on you, ain’t it?”
“Insidious, that’s the word for it,” replied Kid sympathetically.
“Insidious. They say a cough’s the worst sort of a symptom. It leads
to other things, you see, things like quinsy and diphtheria and
bronchitis, Small. If I was you I’d take good care of myself for a
while. Don’t ever get your feet wet, Small.”
“I guess they’re wet now,” muttered Small, feeling of his shoes. “They
are! I guess I’ll get ’em off.” He coughed again, a truly alarming,
hollow cough that produced a sad shake of the head from Kid.
“Haven’t anything you can take, have you?” he asked solicitously.
Small, unhappy, shook his head.
“What――what’s good for it?” he asked huskily.
Kid reflected. “Well, if it was me, I’d most certainly take some
Tinkham’s Throat-Ease. They’re the very best things I know of, Small,
and they’re only a quarter a box.”
“Have you got any, Kid?”
“No, I always mean to have some on hand, but I’m all out of them just
now. Maybe you might get some in the village, but I don’t know. They
don’t have many up-to-date things there, and Tinkham’s Throat-Ease is
a――a new remedy, a modern discovery.”
“I suppose something else would do,” reflected Small. “Sam Perkins has
some licorice pastilles that are dandy――――”
“Keep away from them!” advised Kid, with a shake of his head. “They’re
good to taste, Small, but they have no――no healing virtues. I tell you.
I’ve sent for some Tinkham’s and they ought to be here in a day or so,
and then I’ll let you have some.”
“Thanks,” said Small gratefully.
“Twenty-five cents a box is all they are,” continued Kid.
“Oh!” Small swallowed. Then he coughed. “Much obliged,” he murmured.
“That’s all right. I’d do it for you any day, Small. And they are large
boxes, too. A quarter’s worth will last you a long time and cure the
most stubborn cough. Meanwhile, though, you want to be awfully careful
of yourself. If I was you I wouldn’t go out much, and I’d eat as little
as I could――especially sweets.”
“I guess it ain’t that bad yet,” murmured Small.
“You can’t tell,” said Kid darkly. “Lots and lots of folks have
neglected a cough or a cold and been terribly ill. And over-eating is
one of the worst things you can do. If I was you――”
“If you were me,” interrupted Small querulously, “I suppose you’d eat
nothing but milk toast and give your puddings and preserves and things
to the other fellows! Well, you don’t get ’em!”
Kid looked virtuously indignant. “I don’t want your pudding, Small;
and if you think I do, why you go right on and eat it and see how sick
you’ll be. Then don’t say I didn’t warn you; that’s all; don’t say I
didn’t warn you, Small!”
“What’s the use of making so much fuss? I haven’t coughed but once
since I came in here.”
“Three times, Small!”
“Well, all right; but I’m not coughing now, am I?”
“You’re going to,” responded Kid with uncanny certainty.
“Bet you I don’t!”
“Bet you you do! You’re trying not to, but you can’t keep it in for
long, Small.”
“I’m not trying not to! I don’t want to cough; I couldn’t cough if I
tried!”
“Then stop holding your breath. I don’t care if you want to be ill,
Small; you don’t need to get waxy with me about it. Besides, a cough’s
nothing to be ashamed of. If I wanted to cough I’d cough!”
“I don’t _want_ to cough, I tell you!” cried Small exasperatedly.
“And, anyhow,” went on Kid imperturbably, “I’ve heard it’s injurious to
try to――to restrain coughter――I mean coughing.”
“I tell you――oh, you make me tired!”
“Go on, Small; let it out.”
“Let what out?”
“That cough. You’re only hurting your lungs.”
“There isn’t any cough!” Small shrieked. “If you say cough to me
again――――”
He stopped there, not for lack of words, but because he was suddenly
seized with a paroxysm of coughing that rendered speech impossible. Kid
turned away, apparently with a delicate consideration for the other’s
embarrassment, but in reality to grin triumphantly and wink wickedly at
the doorknob. Small, with one hand clutching convulsively at his chest
and the other accusingly outstretched toward Kid, rushed from the room,
coughing and sputtering.
“Don’t forget!” admonished Kid. “Tinkham’s Throat-Ease! Twenty-five
cents a box! _Accept――no――substitutes!_”
Kid had to yell the latter part of the injunction since Small’s
footsteps were dying away down the corridor. Then came the sound
of a slammed door――and silence. Silence, do I say? No, for, faint
yet unmistakable above the silence of a Sunday afternoon, came the
evidences of Small’s awful malady!