THE DECISION
“Looks as if something was up,” whispered Bob to Ned, as the three
chums slid into the house.
“That’s what it does,” agreed Ned. “I guess Mrs. Hopkins thought we
were making too much of a racket on her front stoop.”
“We did raise a sort of row,” commented Jerry, tossing his hat on a peg
of the rack. “But mother doesn’t care an awful lot about that. She’s
heard noise before. There’s something else in the wind, believe me!”
Mrs. Hopkins, with the fathers of Bob and Ned, had withdrawn from
the hall into the library, where they could be heard in low-voiced
conversation.
“I wonder what the game is,” came from Ned. “Another family conference!
Did you know they were going to have it, Jerry?”
The tall lad shook his head.
“Unless it’s about us I can’t imagine what it’s for,” he said. “But I
reckon it does concern us. Well, we’ll have to take our medicine, I
suppose.”
“Come in, boys,” called Mrs. Hopkins. “What we have to say concerns you
as much as it does us.”
Rather sheepishly Ned, Bob and Jerry filed into the library, and took
seats. Mrs. Hopkins was seated at a table with her two guests, and on
this there appeared to be a pile of books, over which a newspaper was
thrown, as though to conceal them from view, temporarily at least.
“Seems to me you young men might be a little more quiet in approaching
a lady’s house,” remarked Mr. Slade, looking at his son; and his voice
was not as good-natured as usual.
“Oh, well, Dad,” came the response, “you see we just had a little race,
to decide who’d buy the ice cream sodas, and we did make rather a
strenuous finish of it, I guess.”
“I should say so!” exclaimed Mr. Baker, looking at his son. “I thought
it was a mad-dog chase at least, banging up on the steps that way. But
it only goes to show that it’s high time we took some action in your
cases.”
“That’s right,” put in Mr. Slade, with a vigorous nod.
The three chums looked wonderingly at one another.
“Surely they can’t be going to punish us just for a little prank like
that,” thought Jerry. His mother looked at him and smiled.
“Well, I don’t mind a little noise,” she said. “But I really think
it is time something was done to subdue the lads a little. They are
getting a bit too much out of hand.”
“We haven’t acted a bit too soon,” murmured Mr. Slade.
“I only hope it isn’t too late,” added the banker.
Once more the chums looked wonderingly at one another, and then Ned,
addressing his father, burst out with:
“Say, Dad, what’s it all about, anyhow? What’s up? Are we on trial just
because we made a racket over a foot race?”
“We’ll apologize to Mrs. Hopkins, if you want us to,” Bob said.
“Oh, no, my dear boy, no apology is required!” Jerry’s mother made
haste to say. “While you did make considerable noise, that isn’t the
reason we called you in to hear our decision about a certain matter.
Of course the way you all acted just now bears out what we have
been fearful of for some time back, and that is--perhaps one of you
gentlemen can explain better than I,” she finished with a nod toward
Mr. Baker and Mr. Slade.
There was a momentary hesitation on the part of each of them, while the
looks of wonder, not unmixed with apprehension, deepened on the faces
of the chums. Then Mr. Slade said:
“Well, boys, it amounts to this. For some time we have been noticing
your conduct. Not that you have done anything wrong or improper, but
you haven’t done exactly what is right, either. You are getting on in
years, in fact you are young men now, and boys no longer, so it is time
you acted like young men.”
“If that race just now----” broke in Ned.
“Oh, it isn’t altogether that!” his father made haste to say. “That
is only one straw that shows which way the wind is blowing. You are
entirely too frivolous, and when I say that I include you, Jerry, and
you, Bob, with the permission of your parents.”
“Yes, I agreed with Mr. Slade,” murmured Mrs. Hopkins.
“And I,” added the banker.
“So we have called you in to acquaint you with our decision,” the
department store proprietor went on. “And I want to say that we did not
arrive at it hastily. We have had several conferences on the matter, as
we wanted to be fair and just to all of you, and we wanted to do our
duty. Now perhaps you have something to say, Mr. Baker, before we tell
the boys what is in store for them.”
“Looks serious,” Jerry formed the words with his lips to Ned, but did
not emit a whisper.
Ned nodded gloomily.
“Well, Aaron, you’ve said about all there is to say on the subject,”
began the banker slowly. “I might add that I think our boys have
had plenty of good times and strenuous adventures. There can be no
complaint on their part about that. And, boys, I want to say that you
must now settle down and prepare to make real men of yourselves. You
are boys no longer--you must prepare to accept the responsibilities of
life. Have you anything to add, Mrs. Hopkins?”
“Nothing except that I fully agree with you gentlemen. And I think
what we are about to do will be for the best interests of all of us,
especially of our boys. We are proud of them in spite of the fact that
they are sometimes a little too careless, and we want to continue to be
proud of you, boys. Tell them what we have decided to do, Mr. Slade.”
“It is this,” said the department store keeper, as he removed the
newspaper from the pile of books, or rather, pamphlets. “We are going
to send you boys to some college or military academy, where, under
stricter discipline than any to which you have hitherto been subjected,
you will be able to develop your characters.”
“Sent away to college!” exclaimed Jerry.
“Military academy!” echoed Bob.
“Strict discipline!” murmured Ned.
There was silence for a moment, and then Mr. Baker went on:
“That is the conclusion we have arrived at after giving the matter
serious thought. It will be the best thing in the world for you young
men--boys no longer--to go away to some college. You will have regular
hours and regular studies, which you have not had in the past two
years. Not that you are backward, for you have kept yourselves well
informed, and your travels have been helpful, in a measure. But you
need regularity, and you are going to get it.
“Now we have here,” he went on, “catalogues from several institutions
of learning. They are all good, as far as we can tell, and any one of
them would suit me as a place for my boy. We have not quite made up our
minds which one to choose. We want you all to go to the same one.”
“I should say, yes!” cried Jerry.
“We don’t want to be impertinent,” added Ned, “but we couldn’t think of
going to separate colleges. We must be together.”
“Sure!” echoed Bob.
“Well, we are very glad we can give in to you on that point,” said Mr.
Slade, smiling.
“Now we will proceed to the further discussion, which you interrupted
with your strenuous foot race,” said Mr. Baker, “and we will let you
help us decide which college you will attend. Now here is a catalogue
that interests me,” and he held up one of a well-known college.
There was quite a lengthy discussion, in which the boys joined, telling
what they knew, or had heard, of certain institutions. Some they flatly
refused to consider at all. Toward others they were more favorably
inclined.
“Now here is one I should like to see you attend,” said Mr. Slade,
holding up another prospectus. “It is----”
He was interrupted by an exclamation from Jerry, who rushed from the
room.
“Why! what in the world is the matter with him?” asked Mrs. Hopkins in
surprise.
No one answered, and before they could indulge in any speculation Jerry
was back again, waving over his head a catalogue similar to those on
the table.
“If we have to go to college,” he said, “and I guess we do, this is
the one we’d like you to pick out--Boxwood Hall! Let us go there! It’s
a dandy place, according to the catalogue, and it has a good standing
from a scholastic and athletic standpoint. Let us go to Boxwood Hall,
where our old friend, Professor Snodgrass, is a teacher.”
“Boxwood Hall?” murmured Mr. Slade, questioningly.
“Professor Snodgrass,” said Mr. Baker, reflectively.
“He sent me this catalogue,” Jerry went on, “though when I got it I
hadn’t the least notion in the world that I would go there. Let me
read you the professor’s letter”; and this he did.
Mr. Slade picked up the Boxwood Hall catalogue and glanced at the
illustrations of the various buildings.
“It looks like a nice place,” he said.
“It sure does!” exclaimed his son, looking over his father’s shoulder.
“We would like it there.”
“And there are some well known names on the faculty, aside from that of
Professor Snodgrass,” went on Mr. Slade.
“Professor Snodgrass,” murmured Mr. Baker. “He’s the scientist who so
often went with you boys on your trips, gathering queer bugs and so on.”
“He’s the one!” Jerry remarked. “Say, fellows, will you ever forget
the time he saw a bug on the railroad track, and almost got under the
locomotive to capture the insect.”
“That’s right,” chorused Ned and Bob.
“That’s the one objection to Boxwood Hall,” resumed Mr. Baker. “I’m
afraid instead of studying, you boys will be going off on bug-hunting
trips with Professor Snodgrass. I guess we’d better decide on some
other college.”