NID AND NOD
[Illustration: The door was opened and the boy peered into the dim
hall]
NID AND NOD
BY
RALPH HENRY BARBOUR
Author of “The Crimson Sweater,” “Harry’s Island,”
“Team-Mates,” “The Turner Twins,” etc.
ILLUSTRATED BY
C. M. RELYEA
[Illustration]
THE CENTURY CO.
_New York and London_
1923
Copyright, 1923, by
THE CENTURY CO.
PRINTED IN U. S. A.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. AT THE LITTLE BLUE SHOP 3
II. KEWPIE STATES HIS CASE 16
III. THE “A. R. K. P.” IS FORMED 31
IV. PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT 43
V. LAURIE TO THE RESCUE 62
VI. LAURIE TALKS TOO MUCH 76
VII. POLLY APPROVES 93
VIII. KEWPIE AGREES 106
IX. AN AFTERNOON CALL 117
X. THE COACH MAKES A PROMISE 130
XI. ON LITTLE CROW 141
XII. ON THE QUARRY SHELF 151
XIII. THE “PEQUOT QUEEN” 162
XIV. A PERFECTLY GORGEOUS IDEA 178
XV. ROMANCE AND MISS COMFORT 190
XVI. MR. BROSE WILKINS 201
XVII. THE FUND GROWS 215
XVIII. MISS COMFORT COMES ABOARD 227
XIX. LAURIE IS CORNERED 240
XX. THE TRY-OUT 260
XXI. THE DEAD LETTER 276
XXII. THE FORM AT THE WINDOW 291
XXIII. SUSPENDED! 309
XXIV. MR. GOUPIL CALLS 324
XXV. THE MARVELOUS CATCH 338
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
The door was opened and the boy peered into the dim
hall _Frontispiece_
FACING
PAGE
A pleasant-faced little lady in a queer, old-fashioned
dress 56
They all accompanied Laurie to the _Pequot Queen_ 186
“Nice old bus,” Laurie observed, “let’s take a spin, Ned” 288
NID AND NOD
CHAPTER I
AT THE LITTLE BLUE SHOP
A bell tinkled as the door of the little blue shop opened and closed,
and continued to tinkle, although decreasingly, as the stout youth who
had entered turned unhesitatingly but with a kind of impressive dignity
toward where in the dimmer light of the store a recently installed
soda-fountain, modest of size but brave with white marble and nickel,
gleamed a welcome.
In response to the summons of the bell a girl came through the door
that led to the rear of the little building. As she came she fastened a
long apron over the dark blue dress and sent an inquiring hand upward
to the smooth brown hair. Evidently reassured, she said, “Hello,” in
a friendly voice and, having established herself behind the counter,
looked questioningly at the customer.
“Hello,” responded the boy. “Give me a chocolate sundae with walnuts
and a slice of pineapple, please. And you might put a couple of
cherries on top. Seen Nod this afternoon?”
The girl shook her head as she deposited a portion of ice-cream in
a dish and pressed the nickeled disk marked “Chocolate.” “I’ve just
this minute got back from school,” she replied. “Aren’t you out early
to-day?”
“No recitation last hour,” the youth explained as his eyes followed her
movements fascinatedly. “That all the chopped walnuts I get, Polly?”
“It certainly is when you ask for pineapple and cherries, too,”
answered the girl firmly. She tucked a small spoon on the side of the
alarming concoction, laid a paper napkin in front of the customer, and
placed the dish beside it. “Would you like a glass of water?”
The youth paused in raising the first spoonful to his mouth and looked
to see if she spoke with sarcasm. Apparently, however, she did not,
and so he said, “Yes, please,” or most of it; the last of it was
decidedly unintelligible, proceeding as it did from behind a mouthful
of ice-cream, chocolate syrup, and cherry. When the glass of water had
been added to the array before him and he had swallowed three spoonfuls
of the satisfying medley, the stout youth sighed deeply, and his gaze
went roaming to an appealing display of pastry beyond the girl.
“Guess I’ll have a cream-cake,” he announced. “And one of those tarts,
please. What’s in ’em, Polly?”
“Raspberry jam.”
“Uh-huh. All right. Better make it two, then.”
Polly Deane eyed him severely. “Kewpie Proudtree,” she exclaimed, “you
know you oughtn’t to eat all this sweet stuff!”
“Oh, what’s the difference?” demanded the youth morosely. “Gee, a
fellow can’t starve all the time! Maybe I won’t go in for football next
year, anyway. It’s a dog’s life. No desserts you can eat, no candy,
no――”
“Well, I think that’s a very funny way for you to talk,” interrupted
Polly indignantly. “After the way you played in the Farview game and
everything! Why, every one said you were just wonderful, Kewpie!”
Kewpie’s gloom was momentarily dissipated, giving place to an expression
of gratification. He hastily elevated a portion of ice-cream to his
mouth and murmured deprecatingly, “Oh, well, but――”
“And you know perfectly well,” continued the girl, “that pastry and
sweets make you fat, and Mr. Mulford won’t like it a bit, and――”
It was Kewpie’s turn to interrupt, and he did it vigorously. “What of
it?” he demanded. “I don’t have to stay fat, do I? I’ve got all summer
to train down again, haven’t I? Gee, Polly, what’s the use of starving
all the winter and spring just to play football for a couple of months
next fall? Other fellows don’t do it.”
“Why, Kewpie, you know very well that most of them do! You don’t see
Ned and Laurie eating pastry here every afternoon.”
“Huh, that’s a lot different. Nod’s out for baseball, and Nid’s scared
to do anything Nod doesn’t do. Why, gee, if one of those twins broke
his leg the other’d go and bust his! I never saw anything so――so
disgusting. Say, don’t I get those tarts?”
“Well, you certainly won’t if you talk like that about your best
friends,” answered Polly crisply.
“Oh, well, I didn’t say anything,” muttered Kewpie, grinning. “Those
fellows are different, and you know it. Gee, if I was on the baseball
team I’d let pastry alone, too, I guess. It stands to reason. You
understand. But it doesn’t make any difference to any one what I do.
They wouldn’t let me play basket-ball, and when I wanted to try for
goal-tend on the hockey-team Scoville said it wouldn’t be fair to the
other teams to hide the net entirely. Smart Aleck! Besides, I’m only a
hundred and sixty-one pounds right now.”
“That’s more than you were in the fall, I’m certain,” said Polly
severely.
“Sure,” agreed Kewpie. “Gee, when I came out of the Farview game I was
down to a hundred and fifty-one and a half! I guess my normal weight’s
about a hundred and sixty-five,” he added comfortably. “What about
those tarts and the cream-cake?”
“You may have the cream-cake and one tart, and that’s all. I oughtn’t
to let you have either. Laurie says――”
“Huh, he says a lot of things,” grunted Kewpie, setting his teeth into
the crisp flakiness of the tart. “And I notice that what he says is
mighty important around here, too.” Kewpie smiled slyly, and Polly’s
cheeks warmed slightly. “Anything Nod says or does is all right, I
suppose.”
“What Laurie says is certainly a lot more important than what you say,
Mr. Proudtree,” replied Polly warmly, “and――”
“Now, say,” begged Kewpie, “I didn’t mean to be fresh, honest Polly!
Gee, if you’re going to call me ‘Mister Proudtree’ I won’t ever――ever――”
He couldn’t seem to decide what it was he wouldn’t ever do, and
so he thrust the last of the tart into his mouth and looked hurt
and reproachful. When Kewpie looked that way no one, least of all
the soft-hearted Polly, could remain offended. Polly’s haughtiness
vanished, and she smiled. Finally she laughed merrily, and Kewpie’s
face cleared instantly.
“Kewpie,” said Polly, “you’re perfectly silly.”
“Oh, I’m just a nut,” agreed the boy cheerfully. “Well, I guess I’ll go
over to the field and see what’s doing. If you see Nod tell him I’m
looking for him, will you?”
Polly looked after him concernedly. Something was wrong with Kewpie.
He seemed gloomy and almost――almost reckless! Of late he had rioted in
sweets and the stickiest of fountain mixtures, which was not like him.
She wondered if he had a secret sorrow, and decided to speak to Laurie
and Ned about him.
Polly Deane was rather pretty, with an oval face not guiltless of
freckles, brown hair and brown eyes and a nice smile. She was not quite
sixteen years old. Polly’s mother――known to the boys of Hillman’s
School as the “Widow”――kept the little blue-painted shop, and Polly,
when not attending the Orstead High School, helped her. The shop
occupied the front room on the ground floor. Behind it was a combined
kitchen, dining and living room, and up-stairs were two sleeping
chambers. Mrs. Deane could have afforded a more luxurious home, but she
liked her modest business and often declared that she didn’t know where
she’d find a place more comfortable.
Polly was aroused from her concern over the recent customer by the
abrupt realization that he had forgotten to pay for his entertainment.
She sighed. Kewpie already owed more than the school rules allowed.
Just then the door opened to admit a slim, round-faced boy of about
Polly’s age. He had red-brown hair under his blue school cap, an
impertinent nose, and very blue eyes. He wore a suit of gray, with
a dark-blue sweater beneath the coat. He wore, also, a cheerful and
contagious smile.
“Hello, Polly,” was his greeting. “Laurie been in yet?”
“No, no one but Kewpie, Ned. He was looking for Laurie, too. He’s just
gone.”
“Well, I don’t know where the silly hombre’s got to,” said the
new-comer. “He was in class five minutes ago, and then he disappeared.
Thought he’d be over here. I’d like a chocolate ice-cream soda, please.
Say, don’t you hate this kind of weather? No ice and the ground too wet
to do anything on. Funny weather you folks have here in the East.”
“Oh, it won’t be this way long,” answered Polly as she filled his
order. “The ground will be dry in a day or two, if it doesn’t rain――or
snow again.”
“Snow again!” exclaimed the other. “Gee-all-whillikens, does it snow
all summer here?”
“Well, sometimes we have a snow in April, Ned, and this is only the
twenty-first of March. But when spring does come it’s beautiful. I just
love the spring, don’t you?”
“Reckon so. I like our springs back home, but I don’t know what your
Eastern springs are like yet.” He dipped into his soda and nodded
approvingly. “Say, Polly, you certainly can mix ’em. Congreve’s has got
nothing on you. Talking about spring, back in California――”
He was interrupted by the opening of the door. The new arrival was a
slim, round-faced youth of about Polly’s age. He had reddish-brown hair
under the funny little blue cap he wore, a somewhat impertinent nose,
and very blue eyes. He wore a suit of gray knickers with coat to match
and a dark blue sweater beneath the coat. Also, he wore a most cheerful
smile. The first arrival turned and, with spoon suspended, viewed him
sternly.
“I bid you say where you have been,” he demanded.
The new-comer threw forth his right hand, palm upward, and poised
himself on the toes of his wet shoes like a ballet-dancer.
“In search of you, my noble twin,” he answered promptly. “Hello, Polly!”
“Punk!” growled Ned Turner. “‘Been’ and ‘twin’! My eye!”
“Perfectly allowable rime, old son. What are you having?”
“Chocolate ice-cream soda. Say, what became of you after school? I
looked all over for you.”
“Ran up to the room a minute. Thought you’d wait, you dumb-bell.”
“I did wait. Then I thought you’d started over here. Whose wheel is
that you’ve got out there?”
“Search me. Elk Thurston’s, I guess. I found it doing nothing in front
of West. I’ll take a pineapple and strawberry, please, Polly.”
“Well, you had a nerve! Elk will scalp you.”
Laurie shrugged and accepted his refreshment. “I only borrowed it,” he
explained carelessly. “Here comes the mob.”
The afternoon influx of Hillman’s boys was begun by two tousled-haired
juniors demanding “Vanilla sundaes with chopped walnuts, please, Miss
Polly!” and after them the stream became steady for several minutes.
Further sustained conversation with Polly being no longer possible,
Ned and Laurie took their glasses to the other side of the shop, where
Laurie perched himself on the counter and watched the confusion. Ned’s
eyes presently strayed to the array of pastry behind the further
counter, and he sighed wistfully. But as Laurie, who was in training
for baseball, might not partake of such things, Ned resolutely removed
his gaze from that part of the shop, not without a second sigh, and,
turning it to the door, nudged Laurie in the ribs with an elbow.
“Thurston,” he breathed.
Laurie looked calmly at the big upper-middle boy who was entering.
“Seems put out about something,” he murmured.
“Say,” demanded “Elk” Thurston in a voice that dominated the noise
of talk and laughter and the almost continuous _hiss_ of the
soda-fountain, “what smart guy swiped my bicycle and rode it over here?”
Elkins Thurston was seventeen, big, dark-complexioned, and domineering,
and as the chatter died into comparative silence the smaller boys
questioned each other with uneasy glances. No one, however, confessed,
and Elk, pushing his way roughly toward the fountain, complained
bitterly. “Well, some fresh Aleck did, and I’ll find out who he was,
too, and when I do I’ll teach him to let my things alone!”
“What’s the trouble, Elk?” asked Laurie politely. Ned, nudging him to
keep still, found Elk observing him suspiciously.
“You heard, I guess,” answered Elk. “Did you have it?”
“Me?” said Ned. “No, I didn’t have it.”
“I don’t mean you; I mean him.” Elk pointed an accusing finger at
Laurie.
“Me?” asked Laurie. “What was it you lost?”
“Shut up,” whispered Ned. “He’ll come over and――”
“My bicycle, that’s what! I’ll bet you swiped it, you fresh kid.”
“What’s it look like?” inquired Laurie interestedly.
“Never you mind.” Elk strode across, fixing Laurie with angry eyes.
“Say, you took it, didn’t you?”
“Must have,” said Laurie cheerfully. “Did you want it?”
“Did I――did I want―― Say, for two pins I’d――”
“But, my dear old chap, how was I to know that you’d be wanting to ride
it?” asked Laurie earnestly. “There it was, leaning against the steps,
not earning its keep, and you hadn’t said a thing to me about wanting
it, and so I just simply borrowed it. Honest, Elk, if you’d so much as
hinted to me, never so delicately, that――”
There were titters from the younger members of the much interested
audience and even unconcealed laughter from the older boys, and Elk’s
dark countenance took on a deeper and more angry red as he thrust it
close to Laurie’s.
“That’ll be about all for you,” he growled. “You’re one of these funny
guys, aren’t you? Must have your little joke, eh? Well, see how you
like this one!”
Elk raised his right hand, unclenched but formidable. An expectant hush
filled the little store. Polly, with troubled eyes fixed on the drama,
deluged a pineapple ice-cream with soda until it dripped on the counter
below. Laurie continued to smile.