LEONARD GETS PROMOTION
Eldred Chichester Staples appeared to be no more surprised than
Leonard. He closed the door, with the deftness born of long practice,
with his left foot, sailed his cap to his bed and nodded, thrusting
hands into the pockets of his knickers.
“The whole seventeen,” he answered dejectedly. “Couldn’t you tell it by
a glance at my emaciated frame?”
Leonard shook his head. “You look to me just hungry,” he said.
“Slim” Staples chuckled and reposed himself in a chair, thrusting his
long legs forward and clasping lean, brown hands across his equator.
“Your name must be Grant,” he remarked. “Where from, stranger?”
“Loring Point, Delaware.”
“We’re neighbors then. My home’s in New Hampshire. Concord’s the town.”
“Isn’t that where the embattled farmers stood and--and fired--er--”
“The shot that was heard around the world? No, General, you’ve got
the dope all wrong. That was another Concord. There aren’t any farmers
in my town. Come to think of it, wasn’t it Lexington, Massachusetts,
where the farmers took pot-shots at the Britishers? Well, never mind. I
understand that the affair was settled quite amicably some time since.
Glad to be here, General?”
“I think so. Thanks for the promotion, though. I’m usually just ‘Len.’”
“Oh, that’s all right. No trouble to promote you. What does ‘Len’ stand
for?”
“Leonard.”
“Swell name. You’ve got the edge on the other Grant. Ulysses sounds
like something out of the soda fountain. Well, I hope we’ll hit it off
all right. I’m an easy-going sort, General; never much of a scrapper
and hate to argue. Last year, over in Borden, I roomed with a chap
named Endicott. Dick was the original arguer. He could start with
no take-off at all and argue longer, harder and faster than any one
outside a court of law. I was a great trial to him, I suspect. If he
said Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote ‘The Merchant of Venice’ I just said
‘Sure, Mike’ and let it go at that. Arguing was meat and drink to that
fellow.”
“And what became of him? I mean, why aren’t you--”
“Together this year? He didn’t come back. You see, he spent so much
time in what you might call controversy that he didn’t get leisure for
studying. So last June faculty told him that he’d failed to pass and
that if he came back he’d have about a million conditions to work off.
He did his best to argue himself square, but faculty beat him out.
After all, there was only one of him and a dozen or so faculty, and it
wasn’t a fair contest. At that, I understand they won by a very slight
margin!”
“Hard luck,” laughed Leonard. “I dare say he was a star member of the
debating club, if there is one here.”
“There is, but Dick never joined. He said they were amateurs. What do
you say to supper? Oh, by the way, you were out for football, weren’t
you? What’s your line?”
“I’ve played guard mostly.”
“Guard, eh?” Slim looked him over appraisingly. “Sort of light, aren’t
you?”
“I guess so,” allowed Leonard. “Of course, I don’t expect to make the
first; that is, this year.”
Slim grinned wickedly. “No, but you’ll be fit to tie if you don’t. Take
me now. Last year I was on the second. Left end. I’m only a soph, and
sophs on the big team are as scarce as hen’s teeth. So, of course, I
haven’t the ghost of a show and absolutely no hope of making it. But
if I don’t there’s going to be a heap of trouble around here!”
“Well, I suppose I have a sneaking hope,” acknowledged Leonard, smiling.
“Sure. Might as well be honest with yourself. As for playing guard,
well, if you got hold of a suit about three sizes too large for you,
stuffed it out with cotton-batting and put heel-lifts in your shoes you
might stand a show. Or you might if it wasn’t for this fellow Renneker.
I dare say you’ve heard about him? He’s ab-so-lutively sure of one
guard position or the other. And then there’s Smedley and Squibbs and
Raleigh and Stimson and two-three more maybe If I were you, General,
I’d switch to end or quarter.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t want to elbow you out,” laughed Leonard.
“That’s right.” Slim grinned. “Try quarter then. We’ve got only two in
sight so far.”
Leonard shook his head. “Guard’s my job,” he said. “I’ll plug along at
it. I might get on the second, I dare say. And next year-- The trouble
is, I can’t seem to grow much, Staples!”
“Better call me ‘Slim.’ Everybody else does. Well, you know your own
business best. Only, if you tell Johnny that you belong to the Guard’s
Union and that the rules won’t allow you to play anything else, why,
I’m awfully afraid that the only thing you’ll get to guard will be the
bench! Let’s go to chow.”
At the door of the dining hall they parted, for Slim’s table was not
Leonard’s. “But,” said the former, “I guess we can fix that to-morrow.
There are a couple of guys at our table that don’t fit very well. I’ll
arrange with one of them to switch. Care to go over to Mac’s this
evening? Being a newcomer, you’re sort of expected to. They’ll be
mostly freshies, but we don’t have to stay long. I’ll pick you up at
the room about eight.”
Under Slim’s guidance Leonard went across to the Principal’s house at
a little after the appointed hour and took his place in the line that
led through the front portal and past where Doctor McPherson and Mrs.
McPherson were receiving. Slim introduced the stranger and then hustled
him away into the library. “Might as well do it all up brown,” he
observed sotto voce. “Met any of the animals yet?”
“Animals?” repeated Leonard vaguely.
“Faculty,” explained Slim. “All right. We’ll find most of ’em in here.
They can see the dining room from here, you’ll observe, and so they
sort of stand around, ready to rush the minute the flag goes down. Not
so many here yet. Try to look serious and intellectual; they like it.
Mr. Screven, I want you to meet my friend Grant. General, this is Mr.
Screven. And Mr. Metcalf. Mr. Metcalf wrote the French and Spanish
languages, General.”
“If I had, Staples, I’d have written them more simply, so you could
learn them,” replied the instructor with a twinkle.
“_Touche!_” murmured Slim. “Honest, though, I wasn’t so rotten, was I,
sir?”
“You might have been much worse, Staples. Don’t ask me to say more.”
“Well, I’ll make a real hit with you this year, sir. They say Sophomore
French is a cinch.”
“I trust you’ll find it so,” replied Mr. Metcalf genially. “Where is
your home, Mr. Grant?”
Presently Slim’s hand tugged him away to meet Mr. Tarbot and Mr.
Kincaid and Mr. Peghorn, by which time Leonard couldn’t remember which
was which, although Slim’s running comment, en route from one to
another, was designed to aid his friend’s memory. “Peghorn’s physics,”
appraised Slim. “You won’t have him, not this year. He’s a bit deaf.
Left ear’s the best one. Don’t let him nail you or he’ll talk you to
death. Here we are.”
There were others later, but Leonard obtained sustenance before meeting
them, for Slim so skillfully maneuvered that when the dining room
doors were thrown open only a mere half-dozen guests beat him to the
table. To the credit of the faculty be it said that Mr. Kincaid only
lost first place by a nose. The refreshments were satisfactory if not
elaborate and Slim worked swiftly and methodically, and presently,
their plates well piled with sandwiches, cake and ice-cream, the two
retired to a corner. The entering class was large that fall and, since
not a few of the other classes were well represented, the Doctor’s
modest residence was crowded. Slim observed pessimistically that he had
never seen a sorrier looking lot of freshies.
“How about last year?” asked Leonard innocently.
“The entering class last year,” replied Slim with dignity, “was
remarkably intelligent and--um--prepossessing. Every one spoke of it.
Even members of the class themselves noticed it. Want another slice of
cake?”
Leonard rather pitied some of the new boys. They looked so timid and
unhappy, he thought. Most of them had no acquaintances as yet, and
although the faculty members and some of the older fellows worked hard
to put them at their ease they continued looking like lost souls.
Even ice-cream and cake failed to banish their embarrassment. The
Principal’s wife, good soul, haled them from dark corners and talked to
them brightly and cheerfully while she thrust plates of food into their
numbed hands, but so soon as her back was turned they fled nervously
to cover again, frequently losing portions of their refreshments on the
way. Reflecting that even he might do some small part to lighten the
burden of gloom that oppressed them, he broached the subject to Slim
when that youth had returned with another generous wedge of cake. But
Slim shook his head.
“I wouldn’t,” he said. “Honestly, General, they’re a lot happier left
alone. I’m supposed to be on the welcome committee myself, but I’m
not working at it much. Fact is, those poor fish had a lot rather you
didn’t take any notice of them. They just get red in the face and fall
over their feet if you speak to ’em. I know, for I was one myself last
year!”
“Somehow,” mused Leonard, “I can’t imagine it.”
“Can’t you now?” Slim chuckled. “I want you to know that the shrinking
violet hasn’t a thing on me. Chuck your plate somewhere and let’s beat
it. There’s no hope of seconds!”
Back in Number 12 Haylow they changed to pajamas and lolled by the
window, through which a fair imitation of a cooling breeze occasionally
wandered, and proceeded to get acquainted. It wasn’t hard. By ten
o’clock, when the light went out, they were firm friends and tried.
The business of settling down consumed several days, and as the Fall
Term at Alton Academy began on a Thursday it was Monday before Leonard
really found himself. Slim was of great assistance to him in the
operation and saved him many false moves and unnecessary steps. As both
boys were in the same class Leonard had only to copy Slim’s schedule
and, during the first day, follow Slim dutifully from one recitation
room to another, at the end of each trip renewing Wednesday evening’s
acquaintance with one or another of the faculty members, though at
a distance. In various other matters Slim was invaluable. Thursday
evening Leonard took his place at Slim’s table and so enlarged his
circle of speaking acquaintances by eight. Several of the occupants
of the board Leonard recognized as football candidates. There was,
for instance, Wells, universally known as “Billy,” heir apparent to
the position of left tackle, and Joe Greenwood, who might fairly be
called heir presumptive to the fullback position, only one Ray Goodwin
thus far showing a better right. There was, also, Leo Falls, who, like
Leonard, was a candidate for guard. Thus, five out of the ten were
football players, a fact which not only made for camaraderie, but
provided a never-failing subject for conversation. Of the others at the
table, two were freshmen, likeable youngsters, Leonard thought; one
was a sober-faced senior named Barton, and the other two were juniors
who, being the sole representatives of their class there, were banded
together in an offensive and defensive alliance that, in spite of its
lack of numbers, was well able to hold its own when the question of
class supremacy was debated. On the whole, they were a jolly set, and
Leonard was thankful to Slim for securing him admission to them; even
though, as Slim reminded him, several of them would be yanked off to
the training table not later than next week.
What the others thought of Leonard the latter didn’t know, but they
seemed to take to him readily. Perhaps the fact that he was sponsored
by Slim had something to do with it, for Slim, as Leonard soon noted,
was a favorite, not only at his table but throughout the school in
general. (The fact that Slim was President of the Sophomore Class was
something that Leonard didn’t learn until he had been rooming with the
former for nearly three weeks; and then it wasn’t Slim who divulged
it.) I don’t mean to convey the idea that Leonard was unduly exercised
about the impression he made on his new friends, but no fellow can help
wanting to be liked or speculate somewhat about what others think of
him. After a few days, though, he became quite satisfied. By that time
no one at the board was any longer calling him Grant. He was “General.”
Slim’s nickname had struck the popular fancy and gave every sign of
sticking throughout Leonard’s stay at school.
There wasn’t anything especially striking about the newcomer, unless,
perhaps, it was a certain wholesomeness; which Slim, had he ever
been required to tell what had drawn him to his new chum, would have
mentioned first. Leonard was of average height, breadth and weight. He
had good enough features, but no one would ever have thought to call
him handsome. His hair was of an ordinary shade of brown, straight
and inclined to be unruly around the ears and neck; his eyes were
brown, too, though a shade or two darker; perhaps his eyes were his
best feature, if there was a best, for they did have a sort of faculty
for lighting up when he became interested or deeply amused; his nose
was straight as far as it went, but it stopped a trifle too soon to
satisfy the demands of the artist; his mouth was just like any other
mouth, I suppose; that is, like any other normal mouth; and he had
a chin that went well with his somewhat square jaw, with a scarcely
noticeable elevation in the middle of it that Slim referred to as an
inverted dimple. Just a normal, healthy youngster of sixteen, was
Leonard--sixteen verging closely on seventeen--rather better developed
muscularly than the average boy of his years, perhaps, but with
nothing about him to demand a second glance; or certainly not a third.
He didn’t dress particularly well, for his folks weren’t over-supplied
with wealth, but he managed to make the best of a limited wardrobe and
always looked particularly clean. He was inclined to be earnest at
whatever he set out to do, but he liked to laugh and did it frequently,
and did it in a funny gurgling way that caused others to laugh with
him--and at him.
He might have made his way into the Junior Class at Alton had he
tutored hard the previous summer, but as he had not known he was going
there until a fortnight before, that wasn’t possible. His presence
at the academy was the unforeseen result of having spent the summer
with his Uncle Emory. Uncle Emory, his mother’s brother, lived up in
Pennsylvania and for many years had displayed no interest in the doings
of his relatives. The idea of visiting Uncle Emory and working for his
board had come to Leonard after Tim Walsh, football coach at the high
school, had mentioned farm work as one of the short paths to physical
development. Rather to the surprise of the rest of the family, Uncle
Emory’s reply to Leonard’s suggestion had been almost cordial. Uncle
Emory had proved much less of the bear than the boy had anticipated
and before long the two were very good friends. By the terms of the
agreement, Leonard was to receive board and lodging and seventy-five
cents a day in return for his services. What he did receive, when the
time for leaving the farm arrived, was ninety-three dollars, being
wages due him, and a bonus of one hundred.
“And now,” asked Uncle Emory, “what are you doing to do with it?”
Leonard didn’t know. He was far too surprised to make plans on such
short notice.
“Well,” continued Uncle Emory, “why don’t you find yourself a good
school that don’t ask too much money and fit yourself for college? I
ain’t claiming that your father’s made a big success as a lawyer, but
you might, and I sort of think it’s in your blood. You show me that you
mean business, Len, and I’ll sort of look out for you, leastways till
you’re through school.”
So that is the way it had happened, suddenly and unexpectedly and
gorgeously. The hundred and ninety-three dollars, less Leonard’s
expenses home, hadn’t been enough to see him through the year at
Alton, but his father had found the balance that was needed without
much difficulty, and here he was. He knew that this year was provided
for and knew that, if he satisfied Uncle Emory of his earnestness,
there would be two more years to follow. Also, a fact that had not
escaped Leonard, there were scholarship funds to be had if one worked
hard enough. He had already set his mind on winning one of the five
available to Sophomore Class members. As to the Law as a profession,
Leonard hadn’t yet made up his mind. Certainly his father had made no
fortune from it, but, on the other hand, there were men right in Loring
Point who had prospered exceedingly thereby. But that decision could
wait. Meanwhile he meant to study hard, win a scholarship and make good
in the eyes of Uncle Emory. And he meant to play as hard as he worked,
which was an exceedingly good plan, and hadn’t yet discerned any very
good reason for not doing that on the Alton Academy Football Team!