Kid’s home was in New York City――worse luck!――and if the Doctor had
written, as he had intimated, on Saturday, why, then by Tuesday at
the latest the cat would be out of the bag and Kid would be trying to
explain to the principal how the rumor had got around that his father
had met with financial reverses. And Kid didn’t know, couldn’t think
for the life of him how he was going to explain. It meant that Mr.
James Fairchild was destined to punishment. Kid wondered just what
form the punishment would take. Probably he would be put “in bounds,”
for one thing, and that meant that he wouldn’t be allowed to go to the
village. Kid didn’t like that, for the village had attractions for him.
There was a quite remarkable shop in Mt. Pleasant where they sold all
sorts of enticing things in the stationery, bakery and confectionery
line. Kid thought sadly of the chocolate éclairs which, when consumed
with the aid of a glass of root beer, were quite the best things life
afforded. He also recalled the cocoanut bars. Pink and white they
were and exceedingly toothsome. He had only to close his eyes and see
them reposing in the little flat glass tray just crying, “Eat me!
Eat me, Kid!” No more of those for a while after Tuesday, he thought
regretfully. Life looked pretty dark just then, and the wealth reposing
in the collar-box was as dust in his mouth.
Kid mooned through Sunday, miserable and dejected. He could face
trouble when it arrived with an admirable equanimity, but trouble in
anticipation was too much for him. He found the name of a firm who
manufactured silver mugs and other trophies and wrote to them on Sunday
afternoon, enclosing Small’s design. But his heart was not in it. To
add to his depression he realized that he had allowed “Toots” Morgan
to fool him, for “Toots” had agreed to pay him that quarter for the
tablets “to-morrow.” And “to-morrow” was to-day, and to-day was Sunday;
and of course “Toots” didn’t come near the school on Sunday! (I may as
well state here that “Toots” never did pay that quarter. Not only did
he decline firmly and emphatically to do so, but he unreasonably laid
the blame for losing that second game on Kid! Was anything ever so
unjust and unfair? Kid said as much, but “Toots” would not reconsider.
The only thing he would do was to indicate as nearly as possible the
place where he had thrown the remaining forty-nine tablets.) But to-day
Kid was spared the knowledge of this defection, which was just as well,
since he was low enough in spirits without it.
I fancy that it must have been some time during Sunday evening――I trust
it wasn’t during prayers――that the idea came to Kid to have one final
fling before the sword fell; in short, to meet Nemesis satiated with
pleasure. All day Monday there was a reckless gleam in Kid’s eyes,
and just as soon as school was over in the afternoon, he ascended to
his room, emptied the contents of the collar-box in his trouser’s
pocket――weighting them evenly――and departed for the village.
To trace Kid’s career that afternoon between four and six would be
monotonous. Suffice it to say that at ten minutes to six he drove up to
the door in Mr. Higgins’s sleigh surrounded by packages and palpably
weary. His advent occasioned both surprise and indignation. House in
general gathered on the porch while Kid paid his quarter to the Pirate,
emerged from the sleigh with an effort and then deliberately and with
criminal extravagance tipped that worthy ten cents!
“Well!” ejaculated Ben Holden. “You’re a nice help to your folks, you
are! Driving around in sleighs and throwing tips at the Pirate! What
have you got in those bags?”
Kid walked nonchalantly, almost disdainfully, to the foot of the
stairs. There he turned and faced the outraged House and, protruding
his tongue for an instant, remarked succinctly:
“Find out!”
Kid didn’t eat any supper that evening and displayed no interest in the
evident fact that he was in disgrace with his fellows. He was cheeky
and altogether insufferable and would answer no questions. He merely
sat and stared sleepily at his food, eating not nor talking.
When Stanley Pierce came in from tobogganing at a little before nine he
found Kid in bed, very pale in the face and moaning feebly. The doctor
reached the scene twenty minutes later and took command. Unfortunately
he was accompanied to the room by Mr. Folsom, and it was Mr. Folsom who
discovered six cream-cakes (very oozy), a dozen bananas, four apples
and three pears, two pounds of candy, some chewing gum, two pickled
limes and three cakes of sweet chocolate. All these things Mr. Folsom
heartlessly appropriated. But Kid was much too miserable to care at the
time. Life was at a very low ebb with Kid.
The doctor gave it as his opinion that if Kid abstained from food for
a day and took the medicine prescribed he would pull through. Kid,
listening uninterestedly, assimilated the sense of the verdict and
sincerely hoped the doctor might prove mistaken. He didn’t want to
live. Life held no pleasures for him. He wanted them to leave him alone
to die.
But in the morning he felt quite differently about it. The sun was
shining in at the window and a beam was dancing on Stanley’s nose with
interesting and amusing effect. Kid was surprised to find that he could
smile. But when he moved the smile fled. All was not well with him yet
and it was only by keeping still that he could be comfortable. When,
finally, Stanley stopped snoring, tossed back and forth a few times
and awoke with a start, Kid closed his eyes and simulated slumber.
He wished to avoid conversation. Stanley tiptoed over and looked at
him anxiously, appeared satisfied, dressed and stole out as quietly
as possible. Then Kid, luxuriating in the privilege of staying in
bed through morning prayers in spite of his discomfort, set his mind
at work. By noon, he decided, he would be well enough to get up.
The New York mail would arrive at ten or thereabouts. As long as he
remained ill the Doctor wouldn’t say anything to him. Neither would
the fellows. If he could stave off the evil hour until dinner time all
might be well, for as soon as everyone was in the dining-room he would
unostentatiously depart. He was firmly convinced that as soon as the
fellows found out that his family had not met with financial reverses
they would demand their money back and make it very unpleasant for him.
Of course, he had not absolutely told them that his father had gone
into bankruptcy; they had jumped to that conclusion themselves; but he
felt that they would be incapable of calm reasoning. No, the best place
for him was away.
Just where he would go he had not decided. He had always entertained
a secret desire to be a sailor and it was perhaps possible that the
moment to satisfy that desire was at hand. But the first thing was to
get quietly away from school. At the cost of much uneasiness around
the pit of his stomach and many groans, he managed to reach out and
drag his trousers to him. The subsequent search of the pockets was
disappointing. Only a dollar and twelve cents remained of his fortune.
But a dollar was a lot of money if used carefully, and it would stand
between him and poverty for at least two days. By that time――well, he
might be a cabin boy on a merchantman! Kid’s spirits rose. Life which
last evening had seemed full of gloom and sorrow began to be tinged
with the roseate hues of adventure.
The scraping of chairs in the dining-room below indicated that
breakfast had begun. Kid wondered disgustedly how fellows could be such
slaves to their stomachs. Kid didn’t want to eat a bit! And when, half
an hour later, Mrs. Merton came with a bowl of thin gruel and milk, Kid
viewed it distastefully and turned away his head. But of course he ate
it finally――or some of it; fellows always did as Mother asked sooner
or later. She fussed with his pillow, smoothed his bed clothes, laid
a firm, cool hand on his forehead, gave him his medicine, replenished
the water glass and informed him that he was to remain in bed all day.
Kid said “Yes’m” very meekly and looked as much like an innocent cherub
as he could; and with his round face, china-blue eyes and yellow-brown
hair Kid’s impersonation of a cherub wasn’t at all bad. Mrs. Merton
said very kindly that she would be up to see him again after a while
and went off, bearing the remains of the gruel. Just before school
time Stanley stole noiselessly in, so noiselessly, in fact, that Kid
didn’t have time to make believe he was asleep. But Stanley asked no
embarrassing questions and did not demand the return of his quarter. He
asked in bated breath how Kid was and Kid told him in a weak, enfeebled
voice that he was much better, thanks. Then Stanley produced a book.
“Nan sent this to you,” he explained in his best sick-room manner.
“There’s a note in it somewhere, unless I dropped it out.”
“Thanks.” Kid listlessly satisfied himself that the note was still
there, and dropped the volume from a nerveless hand. Stanley declared
he was awfully sorry and hoped Kid would be better soon. Kid thanked
him again in tones that promised scant hope of recovery and Stanley
embarrassedly backed out of the room. Kid could almost hear his sigh of
relief as the door closed behind him.
Kid turned his attention to Nan’s note. It was folded in the proper
cocked-hat shape and bore the inscription, “James Fairchild, Esq.,
Kindness of Bearer.” Kid unfolded it with difficulty and read the
contents.
Oh, Kid [she had written], how could you be so silly and wrong?
You have disappointed us terribly just when we thought you so
noble and courageous. But I should not admonish you now that
you are in dire tribulation. Please get well and all will be
speedily forgiven and forgotten. I send you a book to read. It
is a dandy one. I have read it three times. I hope you will
enjoy it as much as I have. Perhaps mama will allow me to go up
and see you this afternoon. I am so sorry you are ill, Kid, and
no matter what anyone says I shall continue to believe that you
are more sinned against than sinning.
Always your friend,
NAN MERTON.
P. S. Some of the boys say that you cheated them out of the
money, but I know that it was a mistake and that you will make
restitution.
Kid dropped the note with a scowl and took up the book. The title,
“Sally Lund’s Christmas Party,” didn’t impress him at all favorably,
nor did a hurried perusal of the first page, the twenty-fifth page
and the last page better his first impression. And the pictures were
only mildly interesting. It was palpably a girl’s story, and Kid
never could stand girl’s stories. He wished, as he discarded Nan’s
offering, that he could get hold of “Hairbreadth Harry” without
painful effort. Whereupon the appalling knowledge flashed upon him
that “Hairbreadth Harry” was reposing between the leaves of the fifth
volume of the Encyclopedia Britannica in the hall library! In the
excitement of disposing of Tinkham’s Throat-Ease he had quite forgotten
the story-paper! Well, he was already a criminal and one more crime
would matter but little. Besides, he would be far, far away by the
time “Hairbreadth Harry” came to light. Nevertheless he decided to
ask Stanley to rescue him if possible. Later, when he had an address
Stanley could mail the story-paper to him. He disliked the thought of
going through life without ever knowing just how the hero extricated
himself from the embarrassing situation in which he had left him.
He’d be sorry to leave Stanley, too. Stanley had always been mighty
nice to him. And he’d be sorry to leave old Lanny, as well; and Small
and Bert and Nan. Nan was a real good sort for a girl. She had ought to
have been a boy by rights. And――and, why, yes, strange as it seemed, he
was absolutely affected by the thought of leaving the school! He had
had some pretty good times since September and had grown more fond of
the place than he had ever realized before. Well, life was doubtless
full of partings, and regrets were idle. To-day he was to put aside
childish things and face the World. Therefore he resolutely winked back
the tears that had begun to leak around the corners of his eyes and
told himself sternly to “be a man, Kid!”
He listened for sounds from below. They were having arithmetic now,
Bert and Lanny and Small and Nan. Then came history. Kid was glad he
was where he was, for his lessons were not well prepared to-day. On
Saturday Mr. Folsom had been very lenient with him, having learned
of his trouble, but Kid shuddered to think what it would have
been like to-day down there! The morning passed laggingly but not
uninterestingly. He had much to think of. Of course, the place to
strike for would be the Hudson River, for, although it lay almost forty
miles north and east, it seemed likely that he might find passage on
a steamer to New York. Even a canal boat might do. Once in New York,
being careful to avoid the vicinity of his home, he would make for
the docks. He wondered whether cabin boys received any wages. Or did
they just serve for the experience? At all events, he knew that by
shipping as a cabin-boy he would be starting in the approved manner,
for he vividly recalled a book entitled, “From Cabin Boy to Captain,”
which dealt with the fortunes of a fellow who, like he, had run away
from school. The only thing that caused Kid to hesitate about adopting
the seafaring life was the fact that he was usually seasick on the very
slightest provocation. However, he had heard it said that you get over
that in time, and probably by the time the ship reached Singapore――he
hoped it would go to Singapore, for that place had always fascinated
him――he would be a hardened old salt. He wished that it were possible
for him to sneak into the house in New York long enough to secure “From
Cabin Boy to Captain” and “The Boy’s Book of Sailing,” each of which,
he thought, would be a great aid to him at the start of his nautical
career.
Along toward twelve o’clock he felt considerably better, having
dutifully taken his medicine every half hour――when he had thought of
it. He was able to sit up and even move around without that sinking
feeling in his insides and without his head being dizzy. So he reached
the table and got paper and pencil. He had decided to leave a note of
farewell in which he would forgive everyone and ask them to judge him
as leniently as possible. But after four attempts he gave it up. What
he finally did write was only this:
DEAR STANLEY: Please look in the Encyclopeda Britancus and get
the story I left there Friday about Hairbreadth Harry. I don’t
want the Doc to find it. I am going away forever. Some day I
will send you my address which will likely be Singapore and you
can send me the story. And if you want me to I will send back
that quarter after I have made some money, but don’t expect it
too soon for I will probably have a hard struggle for a while
all by myself. Maybe by that time you won’t want it. Tell the
other fellows the same, only after all a quarter isn’t very
much. Wish you were coming along with me, Stanley. You and I
have always gotten along mighty well, haven’t we? I will stop
now with best wishes for your happiness.