MR. HANKS RENTS A ROOM
With the ringing of chapel bell in the old stone turret of Academy Hall
the next morning Crofton began its forty-third year. Seven-fifteen
seemed to come extremely early, for none of the boys in Sunnywood
Cottage had gone to bed until very late the night before. There had
been lots to talk about after the reception and they had loitered on
the way home and afterwards had congregated in Jeffrey’s room for a
final gossip. Jim, for one, pulled himself out of bed with a sigh; it
seemed to him that he could have slept until noon to-day. Gil and Poke
were already downstairs when he arrived, and Jeffrey followed a minute
later. They chose the wood path, Jeffrey protesting his ability to
manage it. And manage it he did very well, swinging himself along the
winding path, over protruding roots with a remarkable dexterity.
Chapel was held in the Meeting Room on the first floor of Academy
Hall. It was a large, square room, taking up the entire east end of
the building. There was a long platform at one side and facing it
were rows of yellow settees. The walls held many portraits of former
Principals, faculty members and noted graduates and the big windows
were set in deep embrasures adorned with plaster casts of Greek and
Roman immortals; the students called this array “The White Company.”
The shrill-toned bell gave its expiring clang as Jim followed the other
three into the room. Most of the fellows were already in their seats
and his first impression was of a sea of faces confronting him. They
passed row after row of settees before Gil, who was leading, turned in.
Behind them a boy closed the big door and Mr. Gordon arose and stepped
to the reading desk on the platform. Whispers ceased as the big Bible
was opened.
“My son, forget not my law; but let thine heart keep my commandments.
“For length of days, and long life, and peace shall they add to thee.
“Let not mercy and truth forsake thee: bind them about thy neck; write
them upon the table of thine heart: so shalt thou find favor and good
understanding in the sight of God and man.”
The Principal’s deep, pleasant voice went on to the end of the chapter.
Then there was the rustling of many pages as the hymn-books were
opened and the scraping of feet as the boys arose. They sang without
accompaniment of any sort, and to Jim, accustomed to the wheezy droning
of the worn-out organ in the little church at home, the effect was very
beautiful. Then came a prayer, a simple, earnest appeal to the Almighty
for help and guidance throughout the year just beginning.
“And, O Lord, bless the faculty and the students of this school: give
them strength and patience to do their work, understanding and clean
hearts to follow Thy laws.”
Then came the Lord’s Prayer, repeated in unison; a moment of silence;
and then the scraping of feet, the creaking of settees and the moving
of bodies, signifying the end of the service; signifying too, perhaps,
a longing for breakfast. But Mr. Gordon was not yet through with them.
He said a few words appropriate to the opening of the school and then
announced the presence on the faculty of a new member. A tall, thin
gentleman of middle age arose and stepped to the front of the platform.
He wore spectacles and held his head forward in a near-sighted way.
“Mr. Hanks, young gentlemen,” announced Mr. Gordon. Mr. Hanks bowed to
the right, to the left, to the center, hesitated nervously and returned
precipitately to his chair. The students clapped their hands, grinning
the while at the new instructor’s evident delight in reaching his seat
again.
“Hanks, did he say?” whispered Poke to Jim. “It isn’t hard to guess
what his name will be?”
Jim looked a question and Poke laughed softly.
“Nancy,” he whispered. “Nancy Hanks; see?”
Mr. Gordon dismissed them and there was a fairly dignified rush for
the door, Jim becoming separated from his companions in the exodus. He
discovered them again outside, however. Jeffrey, the subject of much
polite curiosity, was leaning on his crutches at the foot of the steps,
while, close by, Gil and Poke made part of a group of six or seven
fellows who were talking and laughing as fast as they knew how. Jim
joined Jeffrey, but a moment later Gil saw them and called them over.
“Want you to meet some friends of mine, fellows,” he said. “Sargent you
met last night, I think. This is Cosgrove. Joe, shake hands with Hazard
and Latham. You too, Atherton. Likewise Sommers and Heath. Hazard’s a
Lower Middler. How about you, Latham; what’s your class?”
“The same,” replied Jeffrey.
“You fellows want to come over and see our new room,” said Poke. “It’s
a dandy. We’ve got hardwood ceilings, hot and cold elevator service,
continuous janitor, telephone in every room――”
“Dry up, Poke,” laughed Joe Cosgrove. “Where is it? What did you leave
Weston for?”
“Didn’t like the society there,” replied Poke gravely. “We’re at Mrs.
Hazard’s; this chap’s mother, you know. She’s taken the Timberlake
cottage. We’ve got a fine old room, honest. Come over soon, will you?”
Jim became aware that Duncan Sargent was looking at him in a peculiarly
speculative way as though trying to guess his weight. He was
enlightened the next moment when Sargent asked:
“You a football man, Hazard?”
Jim shook his head. “Not much of one, I’m afraid. I’ve tried the game
but I never made a success at it.”
“Well, but you’re coming out, aren’t you?”
“Coming out?” repeated Jim at a loss.
“Yes, to try for the team. This afternoon at four. We want all the new
material we can get this year and you look as though you might make
good.”
“Why, thanks,” said Jim. “I――I’d like to, but I won’t have time. You
see, we’ve taken that house and there’s a good deal to do.”
“Oh.” Sargent looked disappointed. “I wish you would, though. See if
you can’t give us an hour or so in the afternoon, Hazard. I’m going to
look for you, anyhow.”
[Illustration: “You a football man, Hazard?” Sargent asked.]
Jim murmured vaguely and politely, very much flattered by the football
captain’s interest in him, and the group broke up. The quartette
hurried back to Sunnywood Cottage as fast as Jeffrey could go, all
very anxious for breakfast. At nine the school bell rang again and Jim
and Jeffrey――with many another new boy――attended their first class.
But there wasn’t much real work done that opening day, and at three
o’clock they were free. Jim returned to the cottage alone. Most of the
other fellows were making for the athletic field to either don canvas
and get into the first day’s practice or to loll about the grand-stand
or on the warm turf and watch and comment. But Jim had plenty of work
awaiting him at the cottage, for in spite of the fact that they had
been at Crofton for almost a fortnight there still remained numerous
odds and ends to attend to. Hope, busily hemming dish-towels on the
porch, was eager to hear about his experiences, but she found her
brother a good deal of a disappointment.
“Why, nothing much happened,” replied Jim, dumping his books in a
chair. “There was history and French. I have the new man, Mr. Hanks, in
history. He’s awfully funny; guess he was rattled a bit. Poke calls him
‘Nancy’; not bad, is it?”
“I haven’t seen him, Jim.”
“You don’t have to see him to appreciate that; Nancy Hanks; don’t you
see?”
“Oh!” murmured Hope blankly. “But――but why does he call him Nancy?”
“Don’t you know who Nancy Hanks was? My, you don’t know much United
States history, do you?”
“I suppose not,” replied Hope humbly.
“Was she a――a nurse or something in the Revolutionary War, Jim?”
“Of course she wasn’t,” answered Jim disgustedly. “You’d better read
your history, sis. Where’s Lady?”
“In there.” Hope nodded toward the door. “She wants you to go down town
for something.”
“All right; I’ve got to go anyway; got to get some books and stationery.
What are you doing?”
Hope held up the piece of blue-checked linen. “Dish-cloths.”
“Oh. I suppose we haven’t rented any more rooms?”
Hope shook her head. “No, there hasn’t been a soul here――except the
ice-man and a man who wanted to sell us a set of ‘The World’s Best
Literature.’”
“Well, I don’t see how we’re going to get along with just those two
rooms rented,” said Jim gloomily. “Endicott said I might advertise in
the school paper, but Benton said it would be wasting money because
the fellows don’t change rooms after school begins.”
“Lady and I were talking about it this afternoon,” said Hope, biting
a thread off with her teeth and then glancing apologetically at her
brother.
“What have I told you――” began Jim sternly. But Hope hurried on. “Lady
said she thought we could manage to make expenses even if we don’t let
any more rooms. She says living isn’t very expensive here in Crofton.
And then, Jim, there’s the rent money from the house at home.”
“Thirty-three dollars a month! Wait until we have to buy coal to heat
this place! It’s going to take a lot of fuel, the rooms are so big and
there are so many windows.”
“Well, we may rent another one yet,” replied Hope cheerfully. “You
never can tell, Jim, and, anyway, it doesn’t do a bit of good to worry.”
“Some one’s got to do a little worrying,” answered Jim shortly. “You
and Lady don’t seem to care whether we make this thing go or not!”
“You’re perfectly horrid! We do care, Jim, but nobody ever did any good
to anybody by worrying. Besides, I don’t see that there is anything we
can do but just――just wait.”
“Yes, wait,” said Jim disgustedly. “Sit here and wait for some one to
come along and insist on being taken in. A lot of rooms we will rent
that way!”
“Well, those boys upstairs did that, didn’t they? They came along and
rented the room, Jim; nobody worried them into it, did they?”
“Well, you sit here and wait,” growled her brother. “I’m going down
town.” He picked up his books and turned toward the door. “I’ll see
what Lady wants.” He was back in a few moments, stuffing a slip of
paper, Mrs. Hazard’s list, into his pocket. “Want to go along, Hope?”
But Hope shook her head. “I must finish these, Jim. I’ve got five more
to do.”
“Oh, all right.” He pulled his hat down over his eyes and started off.
Hope looked after him, sighed and shook her head.
“Jim’s getting growlier and growlier every day,” she murmured. “I
suppose I ought to worry too; maybe he’d like it better if I did. The
trouble is I don’t seem to be able to. Every time I get started to be
unhappy I think of something nice and forget! I’m afraid”――she fixed
her gaze thoughtfully on the little round bed of scarlet sage, which
was all the garden the cottage could boast――“I’m afraid I’m dreadfully
fripish. Maybe I have a――a shallow nature.” Then she smiled, and, “Oh,
dear,” she sighed ruefully, “I can’t worry even about that!
“Just the same,” she continued in thought as she sent her needle in and
out, “I really don’t see the use of worrying all the time. It seems to
me that if things go wrong you just ought to keep cheerful, and the
wronger they go the cheerfuller you ought to keep. You never know when
something nice is going to happen in this wonderful world. Why, I might
be sitting here just like this and somebody might come along and say,
‘Young lady, have you any rooms to rent?’ And I’d say――”
“I――I beg your pardon.”
Hope looked up with a start. At the end of the short walk, holding
the gate half open, stood a tall gentleman in rather ill-fitting
pepper-and-salt clothes. On his head, set at a rakish angle, was a
straw hat with a narrow up-rolled brim. It was very yellow as to straw
and very rusty as to ribbon. And it didn’t suit his lean, thoughtful
face the least bit. He wore spectacles and from behind the lenses a
pair of faded blue eyes peered near-sightedly. He carried a small book
in his right hand, one finger inserted between the pages to hold his
place. Hope wondered if he could be another book agent and dropped her
work and went to the steps.
“I regret disturbing you, young lady,” said the gentleman, “but will
you kindly tell me whether this is――er――” He stopped perplexedly. Then,
“Dear, dear,” he said half to himself, “what was the name now?”
“This is Mrs. Hazard’s house,” said Hope helpfully.
“Ah, that was it; Mrs. Hazard!” he said with vast relief. He entered
and closed the gate carefully behind him, changing the book from right
hand to left as he did so but taking care to keep his place. “I――I am
looking for accommodations; lodgings; a room and――er――yes, board with
it. You give board here?”
“Yes, indeed,” answered Hope. “If you will take a seat I will tell my
mother you are here.”
[Illustration: “I am looking for accommodations, a room and――er――yes,
board with it.”]
“Thank you.” He took a chair. “My name is Hanks. I am just beginning my
duties as instructor at the school. The Principal, Mister――Mister――well,
the name doesn’t matter――sent me here. I had a room――” He broke off
abruptly and exclaimed anxiously; “Your rooms have plenty of light?”
“Yes, sir, they’re quite light and sunny.” Hope had reached the door
but politeness kept her there until the visitor had finished talking.
“That is excellent. I had a room in one of the halls; I think it was
Roberts――or Rutgers; now was it that? Well, that’s of no consequence.
I was explaining that the room was extremely dark, even in midday
very little light penetrating the――er――the windows. As my eyes are
unfortunately quite weak I was obliged to inform Mister――Mister――”
“Gordon,” prompted Hope gently.
“Thank you. Yes, Mr. Gordon. I was obliged to inform him that the room
would not be satisfactory. I then learned that there was no other room
to be had at the school. Quite extraordinary, I would say.”
He paused and seemed to be pondering the fact. Hope waited. After a
moment he looked up in his funny startled way.
“I――I beg your pardon!” he said confusedly. “I――I fear I am detaining
you.”
“Oh, no, sir. I’ll tell my mother that you are here.”
“If you will be so kind.” He bowed gravely.
But Mrs. Hazard was already on the way, having heard the voices on the
porch. As she came out Mr. Hanks arose from his chair and bowed. Then,
as an afterthought, he removed his faded straw hat.
“Mama,” said Hope, “this is Mr. Nancy Hanks――I mean――” She faltered in
confusion. Mr. Hanks came to the rescue.
“I fear you did not get the name quite correctly,” he said politely.
“Artemus Hanks is the name.”
“He――he is looking for a room,” said Hope hurriedly, painfully aware
that she was blushing frantically.
“I shall be very glad to show you what we have,” said Mrs. Hazard with
a smile. “Will you come in?”
“Er――thank you.” Mr. Hanks placed his book, open and face down, on the
chair, put his hat carefully on top of it and followed. “I am not very
particular, Mrs.――er――Mrs. Hazel; plenty of light is almost my sole
requirement. Unfortunately, my eyesight――”
They passed out of hearing, leaving Hope divided between confusion and
laughter. How had she ever been so stupid as to call him Nancy? The
gate slammed and Jim came up the walk, laden with bundles and looking
very warm.
“Oh, Jim,” she cried softly. “He came and I called him Mr. Nancy Hanks!
Wasn’t that simply awful?”
“Who came? Mr. Hanks? Came here? What for?”
“For a room. Just after you went. I was sitting here――”
“Did he take it?” asked Jim eagerly.
“I don’t know. He’s still up there. Isn’t he the funniest, foolishest
old dear of a man, Jim? He couldn’t remember Lady’s name, nor Mr.
Gordon’s――”
“S-sh, they’re coming down,” warned Jim. The instructor, followed by
Mrs. Hazard, came out of the door.
“I hope you will find it quite light enough, Professor.”
“Not Professor, ma’am, merely instructor. I have no doubt the room will
be――er――quite satisfactory. I shall have my things removed directly.”
He caught sight of Jim and bowed. “How do you do,” he murmured. “Thank
you, ma’am.” He bowed to Mrs. Hazard, managing to include Hope in the
salutation, and started down the steps. Hope, stifling a giggle, seized
his hat and book and ran after him.
“Eh?” he asked bewilderedly. “Oh, thank you, thank you. My hat――and
book; to be sure. I believe I would have forgotten them. Thank you,
thank you.”
He set his hat on his head, where it immediately shifted to the same
rakish angle as before, closed the gate carefully behind him, opened
his book and paced slowly off toward school, reading as he went. Hope
subsided in a chair and gave way to laughter. Jim grinned in sympathy
and Mrs. Hazard said “S-sh!” warningly, but had to smile too. Then:
“Well, Jim, another room rented,” she said cheerfully.
“Fine, Lady! What’s he going to pay?”
“Why――why”――a queer expression came over Mrs. Hazard’s face――“why, do
you know, Jim, I don’t think he――I――we spoke of the price at all!”