should take some action looking toward the remedying of the present
condition of our daily meals."
The motion was passed and the chairman announced that he was ready
to hear suggestions as to the nature of the act, as contemplated. A
painful silence succeeded.
Macnooder rose and asked permission to offer a suggestion. The demand
was repulsed. Wash Simmons moved that at the next appearance of the
abhorrent "sinkers," they should rise and leave the room _en masse_.
It was decided that the plan entailed too many sacrifices, and it was
rejected.
Crazy Opdyke from the Woodhull developed the following scheme, full of
novelty and imagination:
"I say, fellows, I've got an idea, you know. What we want is an object
lesson, you know, something striking. Now, fellows, this is what I
propose: We're eighty-five of us in these dining-rooms; now, at two
'sinkers' each, that makes one hundred and seventy 'sinkers' every
time; at six times that makes one thousand 'sinkers' a week. What we
want to do is to carry off the 'sinkers' from table, save them up, and
at the end of the week make a circle of them around the campus as an
object lesson!"
Macnooder, again, was refused permission to speak in support of
this measure, which had an instant appeal to the imagination of the
audience. In the end, however, the judgment of the more serious
prevailed, and the motion was lost by a close vote. After more
discussion the meeting finally decided to appoint an embassy of three,
who should instantly proceed to the head master's, and firmly lay
before him the Woodhull's and the Dickinson's demand for unconditional
and immediate suppression of that indigestible and totally ornamental
article known as "the sinker." Hickey, Wash Simmons and Crazy Opdyke,
by virtue of their expressed defiance, were chosen to carry the
ultimatum. Some one proposed that Macnooder should go as a fourth, and
the motion passed without opposition. Macnooder rose and declined the
honour, but asked leave to state his reasons. Whereupon the meeting
adjourned.
The Messrs. Crazy Opdyke, Hickey, and Wash Simmons held a conference
and decided to shave and assume creased trousers in order to render
the aspect of their mission properly impressive. After a short delay
they united on the steps, where they received the exhortations of their
comrades--to speak out boldly, to mince no words, and to insist on
their demands.
The distance to Foundation House, where the head master resided, was
short--thirty seconds in the darkness; and almost before they knew
it the three were at the door. There, under the muffled lamp, they
stopped, with spontaneous accord, and looked at one another.
"I say," said Hickey, "hadn't we better agree on what we'll say to the
old man? We want to be firm, you know."
"That's a good idea," Opdyke assented, and Wash added, "We'll take a
turn down the road."
"Now, what's your idea?" said Simmons to Hickey, when they had put a
safe distance between them and the residence of the Doctor.
"We'd better keep away from discussion," replied Hickey. "The Doctor'll
beat us out there, and I don't think we'd better be too radical either,
because we want to be firm."
"What do you call radical?" said Opdyke, with a little defiance.
"Well, now, we don't want to be too aggressive; we don't want to go in
with a chip on our shoulder."
"Hickey, you're beginning to hedge!"
Hickey indignantly denied the accusation, and a little quarrel arose
between them, terminated by Wash, who broke in:
"Shut up, Crazy--Hickey is dead right. We want to go in friendly-like,
just as though we knew the Doctor would side with us at once--sort of
take him into our confidence."
"That's it," said Hickey; "we want to be good-natured at first, lay the
matter before him calmly, then afterward we can be firm."
"Rats!" said Crazy; "are we going to tell him, or not, that we
represent the Dickinson and the Woodhull and that they have voted the
extinction of 'sinkers'?"
"Sure we are!" exclaimed Wash. "You don't think we are afraid, do you?"
"Well, then, let's tell him," said Crazy. "Come on, if you're going to."
They returned resolutely and again entered the dominion of the dreary
lamp.
"Say, fellows," Wash suddenly interjected, "are we going to say
anything about 'scrag-birds'?"
"Sure," said Crazy.
"The deuce we are!" said Hickey.
"Why not?" said Crazy, militantly.
"Because we don't want to make fools of ourselves."
The three withdrew again and threshed out the point. It was decided to
concentrate on the "sinker." Crazy gave in because he said he was cold.
"Well, now, it's all settled," said Hickey. "We make a direct demand
for knocking out the 'sinker,' and we stand firm on that. Nothing else.
Come on."
"Come on."
A third time they came to the terrible door.
"I say," said Wash, suddenly, "we forgot. Who's to do the talking?"
"Crazy, of course," said Hickey, looking hard at Simmons, "since that
clapper episode, I'm not dropping in for the dessert!"
"Sure, Crazy, you're just the one," Simmons agreed.
"Hold up," said Crazy, whose fury suddenly cooled. "Let's talk that
over."
Again they retired for deliberation.
"Now, see here, fellows," said Crazy, "let's be reasonable. We want
this thing to go through, don't we?"
"Who's hedging now?" said Hickey, with a laugh.
"No one," retorted Crazy. "I'll talk up if you say. I'm not afraid,
only I don't stand one, two, three with the Doctor and you know it.
I've flunked every recitation in Bible this month. What we want is the
strongest pull--and Wash is the one. Why, the old man would feed out of
Wash's hand."
Wash indignantly repelled the insinuation. Finally it was agreed that
Crazy should state the facts, that Hickey should say, "Doctor, we feel
strongly, very strongly, about this," and that Wash should then make
the direct demand for the suspension for one month of the "sinker," and
its future regulation to two appearances a week.
"And now, no more backing and filling," said Hickey.
"I'll lay the facts before him, all right," added Crazy, clenching his
fists.
"We'll stick together, and we stand firm," said Wash. "Now for it!"
They had reached a point about thirty feet from the threshold, when
suddenly the door was flung violently open and a luckless boy bolted
out, under the lamp, so that the three could distinguish the vehement
gestures. The Doctor appeared in a passion of rage, calling after the
retreating offender:
"Don't you dare, young man, to come to me again with such a complaint.
You get your work up to where it ought to be, or down you go, and there
isn't a power in this country that can prevent it."
The door slammed violently and silence returned.
"He's not in a very receptive mood," said Wash, after a long pause.
"Not precisely," said Hickey, thoughtfully.
"I'm catching cold," said Crazy.
"Suppose we put it over?" continued Wash. "What do you say, Hickey?"
"I shall not oppose the will of the majority."
"And you, Crazy?"
"I think so, too."
They returned to the Dickinson, where they were surrounded and assailed
with questions: How had the Doctor taken it?--What had he said?
"We took no talk from him," said Crazy, with a determined shake of
his head, and then Wash added brusquely, "Just keep your eyes on the
'sinkers.'"
"You took long enough," put in the suspicious Macnooder.
"We were firm," replied Hickey, bristling at the recollection--"very
firm!"
[Illustration: chapter title decoration--BEAUTY'S SISTER]
BEAUTY'S SISTER
His hair it is a faded white,
His eye a watery blue;
He has no buttons on his coat,
No shoe-strings in his shoe.
"Beauty" Sawtelle, or Chesterton V. Sawtelle, as it was pronounced when
each Monday the master of the form read the bi-weekly absences from
bath, sat adjusting his skate on the edge of the pond, with a look of
ponderous responsibility on the freckled face, crowned by a sheaf of
tow hair, like the wisp of a Japanese doll. Presently he drew from
his pocket a dance-card, glanced over it for the twentieth time, and
replaced it with a sigh.
"Cracky!" he said, in despair. "Sixteen regulars and eight extras;
sixteen and eight, twenty-four. Gee!"
Beauty's heart was heavy, and his hope faint, for the sinister finger
of the Prom had cast its shadow over the lighthearted democracy of
boyhood. Into this free republic, where no thoughts of the outside
society should penetrate, the demoralising swish of coming petticoats
had suddenly intruded its ominous significance of a world without,
where such tyrannies as money and birth stand ready to divide the
unsuspecting hosts.
Now Beauty's woes were manifold: he was only a second former, and
the Prom was the property of the lords of the school, the majestic
fourth formers, who lived in the Upper House, and governed themselves
according to the catalogue and a benevolent tempering of the exact
theory of independence.
A few rash under-formers with pretty sisters were admitted on
sufferance, and robbed of their partners if the chance arose. Beauty,
scrubby boy of fourteen, with a like aversion to girls and stiff
collars in his ugly little body, had been horrified to learn that his
sister, at the invitation of Rogers, the housemaster, was coming to
the Prom. On his shoulders devolved the herculean task of filling a
card from the upper class, only a handful of whom he knew, at a moment
when the cards had been circulated for weeks. So he stood dejectedly,
calculating how to fill the twenty-four spaces that were so blank and
interminable. Twenty-four dances to fill, and the Prom only two weeks
off!
In the middle of the pond boys were darting and swaying in a furious
game of hockey. Beauty lingered, biding his opportunity, searching the
crowd for a familiar face, until presently Wash Simmons, emerging from
the mêlée, darted to his side, grinding his skates and coming to a halt
for breath, with a swift: "Hello, Venus! How's the Dickinson these
days?"
Beauty, murmuring an inaudible reply, stood turning and twisting,
desperately seeking to frame a demand.
"What's the secret sorrow, Beauty?" continued Wash, with a glance of
surprise.
"I say, Wash," said Beauty, plunging--"I say, have you got any dances
left?"
"I? Oh, Lord, no!" said the pitcher of the school nine, with a quick
glance. "Gone long ago."
He drew the strap tight, dug his hands into his gloves again, and with
a nod flashed back into the crowd. Beauty, gulping down something that
rose in his throat, started aimlessly to skirt the edge of the pond. He
had understood the look that Wash had given him in that swift moment.
In this abstracted mood, he suddenly came against something angular and
small that accompanied him to the ice with a resounding whack.
"Clumsy beast!" said a sharp voice.
From his embarrassed position, Beauty recognised the Red Dog.
"Excuse me, Red Dog," he said hastily; "I didn't see you."
"Why, it's Beauty," said the Red Dog, rubbing himself. "Blast you! all
the same."
"I say, Red Dog," said Beauty, "have you any dances left?"
"All gone, Beauty," answered Red Dog, stooping suddenly to recover his
skate.
"Nothing left?"
"Nope--filled the last extra to-day," said Red Dog, with the shining
face of prevarication. Then he added, "Why, Venus, are you going to
the Prom?"
"No," said Sawtelle; "it's my sister."
"Oh, I'm sorry. I'd like to oblige you, but you see how it is," said
Red Dog, lamely.
"I see."
"Ta, ta, Beauty! So long!"
Sawtelle shut his lips, struck a valiant blow at an imaginary puck, and
began to whistle.
'Tis a jolly life we lead
Care and sorrow we defy--
After piping forth this inspiring chorus with vigorous notes, the will
gave way. He began another:
To Lawrenceville my father sent me,
Where for college I should prepare;
And so I settled down,
In this queer, forsaken town,
About five miles away from anywhere.
The bellows gave out. Overcome by the mournfulness of the last verse,
he dropped wearily on the bank, continuing doggedly:
About five miles from anywhere, my boys,
Where old Lawrenceville evermore shall stand;
For has she not stood,
Since the time of the flood--
Whether the accuracy of the last statement or the forced rhyme
displeased him, he broke off, heaved a sigh, and said viciously: "They
lied, both of 'em."
"Well, how's the boy?" said a familiar voice.
Beauty came out of the vale of bitterness to perceive at his side the
great form of Turkey Reiter, preparing to adjust his skates.
"Oh, Turkey," said Beauty, clutching at the straw, "I've been looking
everywhere----"
"What's the matter?"
"Turkey, I'm in an awful hole."
"Out with it."
"I say, Turkey," said Sawtelle, stumbling and blushing--"I say, you
know, my sister's coming to the Prom, and I thought if you'd like--that
is, I wanted to know if--if you wouldn't take her dance-card and get it
filled for me." Then he added abjectly: "I'm awfully sorry."
Turkey looked thoughtful. This was a commission he did not relish.
Beauty looked particularly unattractive that afternoon, in a red
tobogganing toque that swore at his faded white hair, and the orange
freckles that stared out from every point of vantage.
"Why, Beauty," he began hesitatingly, "the way it is, you see, my
card's already filled, and I'm afraid, honestly, that's about the case
with all the others."
"She's an awfully nice girl," said Sawtelle, looking down in a
desperate endeavour to control his voice.
"Nice girl," thought Turkey, "ahem! Yes; must be a good-looker, too,
something on Venus's particular line of beauty."
He glanced at his companion, and mentally pictured a lanky girl, with
sandy hair, a little upstart nose, and a mass of orange freckles. But
between Turkey and Sawtelle relations had been peculiar. There had
been many moments in the last year at the Dickinson when the ordinary
luxuries of life would have been difficult had it not been for the
superior financial standing of Chesterton V. Sawtelle. The account had
been a long one, and there was a slight haziness in Turkey's mind as to
the exact status of the balance. Also, Turkey was genuinely grateful,
with that sense of gratitude which is described as a lively looking
forward to favours to come.
"Oh, well, young un," he said with rough good humour, "give us the
card. I'll do what I can. But, mind you, I can't take any myself. My
card's full, and it wouldn't do for me to cut dances."
Jumping up, he started to escape the effusive thanks of the overjoyed
Sawtelle, but suddenly wheeled and came skating back.
"Hello, Beauty!" he called out, "I say, what's your sister's name?"
"Sally--that is, Sarah," came the timid answer.
"Heavens!" said Turkey to himself as he flashed over the ice. "That
settles it. Sally--Sally! A nice pickle I'm in! Wonder if she sports
spectacles and old-fashioned frocks. A nice pickle--I'll be the
laughing stock of the whole school. Guess I won't have much trouble
recognising Beauty's sister. Whew! That comes from having a kind heart!"
With these and similar pleasant reflections he threaded his way among
the crowd of skaters until at length he perceived Hickey skimming over
the ice, stealing the puck from a bunch of scrambling players, until
his progress checked, and the puck vanishing into a distant mêlée, he
came to a stop for breath. Turkey, profiting by the occasion, descended
on his victim.
"Whoa there, Hickey!"
"Whoa it is!"
"How's your dance-card?"
"A dazzling galaxy of beauty, a symposium of grace, a feast of----"
"Got anything left? I have a wonder for you if you have."
"Sure; twelfth regular and sixth extra--but the duchess will be awfully
cut up."
"Twelfth and sixth," said Turkey, with a nod; "that's a go."
"Who's the heart-smasher?" asked Hickey, with an eye on the approaching
puck.
"A wonder, Hickey; a screamer. There'll be nothing to it. Ta, ta! Much
obliged."
"What's her name?"
"Sawtelle--some distant relative of the Beauty's, I believe. I'm
filling out her card. Obliged for the dance. Ta, ta!"
"Hold up!" said Hickey, quickly. "Hold up! Jiminy! I almost
forgot--why, I do believe I went and promised those two to Hasbrouck.
Isn't that a shame! Sorry. To think of my forgetting that! Try to give
you some other. Confound it! I have no luck." With the most mournful
look in the world he waved his hand and sped ostentatiously toward the
bunch of players.
"Hickey's on to me," thought Turkey as he watched him disengage himself
from the crowd and skate off with Sawtelle; "no hope in that quarter."
Finally, after an hour's persistent work, during which he pleaded and
argued, commanded and threatened, he succeeded in filling exactly six
of the necessary twenty-four dances. Indeed, he would have had no
difficulty in completing the card if he could have passed over that
fatal name. But each time, just as he was congratulating himself on
another conquest, his victim would ask, "By the way, what name shall I
put down?"
"Oh--er--Miss Sawtelle," he would answer nonchalantly; "a distant
relative of the Beauty--though nothing like him--ha! ha!"
Then each would suddenly remember that the dances in question were
already half-promised,--a sort of an understanding; but of course he
would have to look it up,--but of course, if he found they were free,
why, then of course, he wanted, above all things in the world, to dance
with Miss Sawtelle.
"Well, anyhow," said Turkey to himself, recapitulating, "I've got six,
provided they don't all back out. Let me see. I can make the Kid take
three,--that's nine,--and Snookers will have to take three,--that's
twelve,--and, hang it! Butcher and Egghead have got to take two
each--that would make sixteen. The other eight I can fill up with some
harmless freaks: some will snap at anything."
That night at the supper-table Turkey had to face the music.
"You're a nice one, you are," said Hickey, starting in immediately,
"you arch deceiver. You are a fine friend; I have my opinion of you.
'Handsome girl,' 'a wonder,' 'fine talker,' 'a screamer'--that's the
sort of game you try on your friends, is it? Who is she? Oh--ah, yes, a
_distant_ relative of the Beauty."
"What's up now?" said the Kid, editor of the "Lawrence," and partner of
Turkey's secrets, joys, and debts.
"Hasn't he tried to deceive you yet?" continued Hickey, with an
accusing look at Turkey. "No? That's a wonder! What do you think of a
fellow who tries to pass off on his friends such a girl as the Beauty's
sister?"
"No!" said Butcher Stevens.
"What!" exclaimed Macnooder, laying down his knife with a thud.
"Beauty's sister," said the Egghead, gaping with astonishment.
"Well, why not?" said Turkey, defiantly.
"Listen to that!" continued Hickey. "The brazenness of it!"
The four graduates of the Dickinson, after a moment of stupefied
examination of Hickey and Reiter, suddenly burst into roars of laughter
that produced a craning of necks and a storm of inquiries from the
adjoining tables.
When the hilarity had been somewhat checked, Hickey returned to the
persecution of the blushing Turkey.
"Bet you three to one she's a mass of freckles," he said. "Bet you even
she wears glasses; bet you one to three she's cross-eyed; bet you four
to one she won't open her mouth."
"Hang you, Hickey!" said Turkey, flushing, "I won't have her talked
about so."
"Did you take any dances?" said the Kid to Hickey.
"Me?" exclaimed the latter, in great dudgeon. "Me! Well, I guess not!
I wouldn't touch any of that tribe with a ten-foot pole."
"Look here, you fellows have got to shut up," said Turkey, forced at
last into a virtuous attitude by the exigency of the situation. "I
promised the Beauty I'd fill his sister's card for him, and I'm going
to do it. The girl can't help her looks. You talk like a lot of cads.
What you fellows ought to do is to join in and give her a treat. The
girl is probably from the backwoods, and this ought to be made the time
of her life."
"Turkey," said the malicious Hickey, "how many dances have you eagerly
appropriated?"
Turkey stopped point-blank, greeted by derisive jeers.
"Oho!"
"That's it, is it?"
"Fake!"
"Humbug!"
"Not at all," said Turkey, indignantly. "What do you think I am?"
"Pass over your list and let's see the company you're going to
introduce her to," said Hickey, stretching out his hand for the
dance-card. "Ah, I must congratulate you, my boy; your selection is
magnificent; the young lady will be charmed." He flipped the card
disdainfully to the Egghead, saying, "A bunch of freaks!"
"Hang it all!" said the Egghead, "that's too hard on any girl. A fine
opinion she'll have of Lawrenceville fellows! We can't stand for that."
"Look here," said the Kid, suddenly. "Turkey is at fault, and has got
to be punished. Here's what we'll do, though: let's each take a dance
on condition that Turkey takes her out to supper."
"Oh, I say!" protested Turkey, who had other plans.
The others acclaimed the plan gleefully, rejoicing in his discomfiture,
until Turkey, driven to a corner, was forced to capitulate.
That evening on the esplanade he called Snookers to him, and resting
his hand affectionately on the little fellow's shoulder, said: "Old
man, do you want to do me a favour?"
"Sure."
"I'm filling up a girl's card for the Prom, and I want you to help me
out."
"Certainly; give me a couple, if the girl's the real thing."
"Much obliged. I'll put your name down."
"Second and fifth. Say, who is she?"
"Oh, some relative of Sawtelle's--you remember you used to go with him
a good deal in the Dickinson. It's his sister."
"Whew!" said Snookers, with a long-drawn whistle. "Say, give me three
more, will you?"
"Hardly," answered Turkey, with a laugh; "but I'll spare you another."
"I didn't think it quite fair to the girl," he explained later, "to
give her too big a dose of Snookers. Queer, though, how eager the
little brute was!"
* * * * *
The last week dragged interminably in multiplied preparations for
the great event. In the evenings the war of strings resounded across
the campus from the "gym," where the Banjo and Mandolin clubs strove
desperately to perfect themselves for the concert. The Dramatic Club,
in sudden fear, crowded the day with rehearsals, while from the window
of Room 65, Upper, the voice of Biddy Hampton, soloist of the Glee
Club, was heard chanting "The Pride of the House is Papa's Baby" behind
doors stout enough to resist the assaults of his neighbours.
Oil-stoves and flatirons immediately came into demand, cushions
were rolled back from window-seats, and trousers that were limp and
discouraged, grew smooth and well-creased under the pressure of the hot
iron. Turkey and Doc Macnooder, who from their long experience in the
Dickinson had become expert tailors, advertised on the bulletin board:
REITER AND MACNOODER
BON TON TAILORS
Trousers neatly pressed, at fifteen cents per pair; all
payments strictly cash--_in advance_.
Each night the dining-room of the Upper was cleared, and the
extraordinary spectacle was seen of boys of all sizes in sweaters and
jerseys, clasping each other desperately around the waist, spinning and
bumping their way about the reeling room to the chorus of:
"Get off my feet!"
"Reverse, you lubber!"
"Now, _one_, two, three----"
"A fine lady you are!"
"Do you expect me to carry you around the room?"
"Darn you, fatty!"
[Illustration: "Trousers that were limp and discouraged, grew smooth"]
"Hold tight!"
"Let 'er rip now!"
From the end of the room the cynics and misogynists, roosting on the
piled-up tables and chairs, croaked forth their contempt:
"Oh, you fussers!"
"You lady-killers!"
"Dance, my darling, dance!"
"Squeeze her tight, Bill!"
"That's the way!"
"Look at Skinny!"
"Keep a-hoppin', Skinny!"
"Look at him spin!"
"For heaven's sake, someone stop Skinny!"
Of evenings certain of the boys would wander in pairs to the edge of
the woods and confide to each other the secret attachments and dark,
forlorn hopes that were wasting them away. Turkey and the Kid, who were
going as stags, opened their hearts to each other and spoke of the
girl, the one distant girl, whose image not all the fair faces that
would come could for a moment dim.
"Kid," said Turkey, in solemn conclusion, speaking from the experience
of eighteen years, "I am going to make that little girl--my wife."