PAUL CHANGES HIS MIND
Two boys were sitting in the first-floor corner study in Haewood's.
Those who know the town of Hillton, New York, will remember Haewood's as
the large residence at the corner of Center and Village Streets, from
the big bow-window of which the occupant of the cushioned seat may look
to the four points of the compass or watch for occasional signs of life
about the court-house diagonally across. To-night--the bell in the tower
of the town hall had just struck half after seven--the occupants of the
corner study were interested in things other than the view.
I have said that they were sitting. Lounging would be nearer the truth;
for one, a boy of eighteen years, with merry blue eyes and cheeks
flushed ruddily with health and the afterglow of the day's excitement,
with hair just the color of raw silk that took on a glint of gold where
the light fell upon it, was perched cross-legged amid the cushions at
one end of the big couch, two strong, tanned, and much-scarred hands
clasping his knees. His companion and his junior by but two months, a
dark-complexioned youth with black hair and eyes and a careless,
good-natured, but rather wilful face, on which at the present moment the
most noticeable feature was a badly cut and much swollen lower lip, lay
sprawled at the other end of the couch, his chin buried in one palm.
Both lads were well built, broad of chest, and long of limb, with
bright, clear eyes, and a warmth of color that betokened the best of
physical condition. They had been friends and room-mates for two years.
This was their last year at Hillton, and next fall they were to begin
their college life together. The dark-complexioned youth rolled lazily
on to his back and stared at the ceiling. Then--
"I suppose Crozier will get the captaincy, Neil."
The boy with light hair nodded without removing his gaze from the little
flames that danced in the fireplace. They had discussed the day's
happenings thoroughly, had relived the game with St. Eustace from start
to finish, and now the big Thanksgiving dinner which they had eaten was
beginning to work upon them a spell of dormancy. It was awfully jolly,
thought Neil Fletcher, to just lie there and watch the flames
and--and--He sighed comfortably and closed his eyes. At eight o'clock
he, with the rest of the victorious team, was to be drawn about the town
in a barge and cheered at, but meanwhile there was time to just close
his eyes--and forget--everything--
There was a knock at the study door.
"Go 'way!" grunted Neil.
"Oh, come in," called Paul Gale, without, however, removing his drowsy
gaze from the ceiling or changing his position.
"I beg your pardon. I am looking for Mr. Gale, and--"
Paul dropped his legs over the side of the couch and sat up, blinking at
the visitor. Neil followed his example. The caller was a carefully
dressed man of about thirty-five, scarcely taller than Neil, but broader
of shoulder. Paul recognized him, and, rising, shook hands.
"How do you do, Mr. Brill? Glad to see you. Sit down, won't you? I guess
we were both pretty nigh asleep when you knocked."
"Small wonder," responded the visitor affably. "After the work you did
this afternoon you deserve sleep, and anything else you want." He laid
aside his coat and hat and sank into the chair which Paul proffered.
"By the way," continued the latter, "I don't think you've met my friend,
Neil Fletcher. Neil, this is Mr. Brill, of Robinson; one of their
coaches." The two shook hands.
"I'm delighted to meet the hero--I should say one of the heroes--of the
day," said Mr. Brill. "That run was splendid; the way in which you two
fellows got your speed up before you reached the line was worth coming
over here to see, really it was."
"Yes, Paul set a pretty good pace," answered Neil.
The visitor discussed the day's contest for a few minutes, during which
Neil glanced uneasily from time to time at the clock, wondered what the
visitor wanted there, and heartily wished he'd take himself off. But
presently Mr. Brill got down to business.
"You know we've had a little victory in football ourselves this fall,"
he was saying. "We won from Erskine by 17 to 6 last week, and we're
feeling rather stuck up over it."
"Wait till next year," said Neil to himself, "and you'll get over it."
"And that," continued the coach, "brings me to the object of my call
tonight. Frankly, we want you two fellows at Robinson College, and I'm
here to see if we can't have you." He paused and smiled engagingly at
the boys. Neil glanced surprisedly at Paul, who was thoughtfully
examining the scars on his knuckles. "Don't decide until I've explained
matters more clearly," went on the visitor. "Perhaps neither of you have
been to Collegetown, but at least you know about where Robinson stands
in the athletic world, and you know that as an institution of learning
it is in the front rank of the smaller colleges; in fact, in certain
lines it might dispute the place of honor with some of the big ones.
"To the fellow who wants a college where he can learn and where, at the
same time, he can give some attention to athletics, Robinson's bound to
recommend itself. I mention this because you know as well as I do that
there are colleges--I mention no names--where a born football player,
such as either of you, would simply be lost; where he would be tied down
by such stringent rules that he could never amount to anything on the
gridiron. I don't mean to say that at Robinson the faculty is lax
regarding standing or attendance at lectures, but I do say that it holds
common-sense views on the subject of college athletics, and does not
hound a man to death simply because he happens to belong to the football
eleven or the crew.
"Robinson is always on the lookout for first-class football, baseball,
or rowing material, and she believes in offering encouragement to such
material. She doesn't favor underhand methods, you understand; no hiring
of players, no free scholarships--though there are plenty of them for
those who will work for them--none of that sort of thing. But she is
willing to meet you half-way. The proposition which I am authorized to
make is briefly this"--the speaker leaned forward, smiling frankly, and
tapped a forefinger on the palm of his other hand--"If you, Mr. Gale,
and you, Mr. Fletcher, will enter Robinson next September, the--ah--the
athletic authorities will guarantee you positions on the varsity eleven.
Besides this, you will be given free tutoring for the entrance exams,
and afterward, so long as you remain on the team, in any studies with
which you may have difficulty. Now, there is a fair, honest proposition,
and one which I sincerely trust you will accept. We want you both, and
we're willing to do all that we can--in honesty, that is--to get you.
Now, what do you say?"
During this recital Neil's dislike of the speaker had steadily
increased, and now, under the other's smiling regard, he had difficulty
in keeping from his face some show of his emotions. Paul looked up from
his scarred knuckles and eyed Neil furtively before he turned to
the coach.
"Of course," he said, "this is rather unexpected."
The coach's eyes flickered for an instant with amusement.
"For my part," Neil broke in almost angrily, "I'm due in September at
Erskine, and unless Paul's changed his mind since yesterday so's he."
The Robinson coach raised his eyebrows in simulated surprise.
"Ah," he said slowly, "Erskine?"
"Yes, Erskine," answered Neil rather discourteously. A faint flush of
displeasure crept into Mr. Brill's cheeks, but he smiled as
pleasantly as ever.
"And your friend has contemplated ruining his football career in the
same manner, has he?" he asked politely, turning his gaze as he spoke
on Paul. The latter fidgeted in his chair and looked over a trifle
defiantly at his room-mate.
"I had thought of going to Erskine," he answered. "In fact"--observing
Neil's wide-eyed surprise at his choice of words--"in fact, I had
arranged to do so. But--but, of course, nothing has been settled
definitely."
"But, Paul--" exclaimed Neil.
"Well, I'm glad to hear that," interrupted Mr. Brill. "For in my opinion
it would simply be a waste of your opportunities and--ah--abilities,
Mr. Gale."
"Well, of course, if a fellow doesn't have to bother too much about
studies," said Paul haltingly, "he can do better work on the team; there
can't be any question about that, I guess."
"None at all," responded the coach.
Neil stared at his chum indignantly.
"You're talking rot," he growled. Paul flushed and returned his look
angrily.
"I suppose I have the right to manage my own affairs?" he demanded. Neil
realized his mistake and, with an effort, held his peace. Mr. Brill
turned to him.
"I fear there's no use in attempting to persuade you to come to us
also?" he said. Neil shook his head silently. Then, realizing that Paul
was quite capable, in his present fit of stubbornness, of promising to
enter Robinson if only to spite his room-mate, Neil used guile.
"Anyhow, September's a long way off," he said, "and I don't see that
it's necessary to decide to-night. Perhaps we had both better take a day
or two to think it over. I guess Mr. Brill won't insist on a final
answer to-night."
The Robinson coach hesitated, but then answered readily enough:
"Certainly not. Think it over; only, if possible, let me hear your
decision to-morrow, as I am leaving town then."
"Well, as far as I'm concerned," said Paul, "I don't see any use in
putting it off. I'm willing--"
Neil jumped to his feet. A burst of martial music swept up to them as
the school band, followed by a host of their fellows, turned the corner
of the building.
"Come on, Paul," he cried; "get your coat on. Mr. Brill will excuse us
if we leave him; we mustn't keep the fellows waiting. And we can think
the matter over, eh, Paul? And we'll let him know in the morning. Here's
your coat. Good-night, sir, good-night." He was holding the door open
and smiling politely. Paul, scowling, arose and shook hands with the
Robinson emissary. Neil kept up a steady stream of talk, and his chum
could only mutter vague words about his pleasure at Mr. Brill's call and
about seeing him to-morrow. When the door had closed behind him the
coach stood a moment in the hall and thoughtfully buttoned his coat.
"I think I've got Gale all right," he said to himself, "but"--with a
slight smile--"the other chap was too smart for me. And, confound him,
he's just the sort we need!"
When he reached the entrance he was obliged to elbow his way through a
solid throng of shouting youths who with excited faces and waving caps
and flags informed the starlight winter sky over and over that they
wanted Gale and Fletcher, to which demand the band lent hearty if rather
discordant emphasis.
* * * * *
A good deal happened in the next two hours, but nothing that is
pertinent to this narrative. Victorious Hillton elevens have been hauled
through the village and out to the field many times in past years, and
bonfires have flared and speeches have been made by players and faculty,
and all very much as happened on this occasion. Neil and Paul returned
to their room at ten o'clock, tired, happy, with the cheers and the
songs still echoing in their ears.
Paul had apparently forgotten his resentment toward Neil and the whole
matter of Brill's proposition. But Neil hadn't, and presently, when they
were preparing for bed, he returned doggedly to the charge.
"When did you meet that fellow Brill?" he asked.
"In Gardiner's room this morning; he introduced us." Paul began to look
sulky again. "Seems a decent sort, I think," he added defiantly. Neil
accepted the challenge.
"I dare say," he answered carelessly. "There's only one thing I've got
against him."
"What's that?" questioned Paul suspiciously.
"His errand."
"What's wrong with his errand?"
"Everything, Paul. You know as well as I that his offer is--well, it's
shady, to say the least. Who ever heard of a decent college offering
free tutoring in order to get fellows for its football team?"
"Lots of them do," growled Paul.
"No, they don't; not decent ones. Some do, I know; but they're not
colleges a fellow cares to go to. Every one knows what rotten shape
Robinson athletics are in; the papers have been full of it for two
years. Their center rush this fall, Harden, just went there to play on
the team, and everybody says that he got his tuition free. You don't
want to play on a team like that and have people say things like that
about you. I'm sure I don't."
"Oh, you!" sneered Paul. "You're getting crankier and crankier every
day. I'll bet you're just huffy because Brill didn't ask you first."
Neil flushed, but kept his temper.
"You don't think anything of the sort, Paul. Besides--"
"It looks that way," muttered Paul.
"Besides," continued Neil calmly, "what's the advantage in going to
Robinson? We've arranged everything; we've got our rooms picked out at
Erskine; there are lots of fellows there we know; the college is the
best of its class and its athletics are honest. If you play on the
Erskine team you'll be somebody, and folks won't hint that you're
receiving money or free scholarships or something for doing it. And as
for Brill's guarantee of a place on the team, why, there's only one
decent way to get on a football team, and that's by good, hard work; and
there's no reason for doubting that you'll make the Erskine
varsity eleven."
"Yes, there is, too," answered Paul angrily. "They've got lots of good
players at Erskine, and you and I won't stand any better show than a
dozen others."
"I don't want to."
"Huh! Well, I do; that is, I want to make the team. Besides, as Brill
said, if a fellow has the faculty after him all the time about studies
he can't do decent work on the team. I don't see anything wrong in it,
and--and I'm going. I'll tell Brill so to-morrow!"
Neil drew his bath-robe about him, and looked thoughtfully into the
flames. So far he had lost, but he had one more card to play. He turned
and faced Paul's angry countenance.
"Well, if I should go to Robinson and play on her team under the
conditions offered by that--by Brill I'd feel disgraced."
"You'd better stay away, then," answered Paul hotly.
"I wouldn't want to show my face around Hillton afterward, and if I met
Gardiner or 'Wheels' I'd take the other side of the street."
"Oh, you would?" cried his room-mate. "You're trying to make yourself
out a little fluffy angel, aren't you? And I suppose I'm not good enough
to associate with you, am I? Well, if that's it, all I've got to say--"
"But," continued Neil equably, "if you accept Brill's offer, so will I."
Paul paused open-mouthed and stared at his chum. Then his eyes dropped
and he busied himself with a stubborn stocking. Finally, with a muttered
"Humph!" he gathered up his clothing and disappeared into the bedroom.
Neil turned and smiled at the flames and, finding his own apparel,
followed. Nothing more was said. Paul splashed the water about even more
than usual and tumbled silently into bed. Neil put out the study light
and followed suit.
"Good-night," he said.
"Good-night," growled Paul.
It had been a hard day and an exciting one, and Neil went to sleep
almost as soon as his head touched the pillow. It seemed hours later,
though in reality but some twenty minutes, that he was awakened by
hearing his name called. He sat up quickly.
"Hello! What?" he shouted.
"Shut up," answered Paul from across in the darkness. "I didn't know you
were asleep. I only wanted to say--to tell you--that--that I've decided
not to go to Robinson!"