JIMMY READS THE PAPER
_The Doubleay_ was written and edited in the sanctum in Academy Hall
and printed in a small job printing shop over Garfield’s grocery
on State street. As school weeklies go, _The Doubleay_ was a very
presentable sheet. Typographical errors were only frequent enough to
encourage the reader of a humorous turn of mind to a diligent perusal
of the four pages; the advertising matter was attractively displayed
and the editorial policy was commendably simple, being to present the
news accurately and briefly. The paper was published on Thursday and
distributed to subscribers and advertisers by a more or less efficient
corps of six young gentlemen, usually freshmen, who received the
munificent reward of half a cent per copy. The first issue of the
paper this fall came out on the second Thursday of the term, and,
according to custom, contained six pages instead of the usual four, the
added matter consisting of the student list arranged by classes and
printed on two sides of a half-sheet under the impressive legend: _The
Doubleay--Supplement_.
Now, if your transom was open when the carrier reached your door you
found the paper on the floor when you returned to your room, or,
if it happened to flutter under a bed or into the waste-basket, you
discovered it the next day or a week later or not at all, as the case
might be. To-day, however, Stanley Hassell pushed it aside with the
opening door when he and Jimmy returned from the gymnasium and, picking
it up, tossed it to the table.
“All the news that’s fit to print,” he commented. “The old _Flubdub’s_
out again, Jimmy.” Stanley intended no disrespect to the journal: he
merely used the customary name for it. Jimmy sighed as he sank into a
chair and reached for the paper.
“Why, I’m glad to see its cheerful face again,” he murmured. “And
doesn’t it look familiar! I wonder if any of the old friends of my
youth are missing.” He was silent a minute as he turned the pages and
as Stanley stretched himself on a window-seat that was four inches
too short for him. “No,” Jimmy went on, “they’re all here: Sampson’s
Livery, Girtle, the Academy Tailor, Go to Smith’s for Stationery, The
Best Soda in the City, College Last Shoes--all the dear, familiar old
friends of me youth, Stan. And here’s Gookin, the Painless Dentist,
still holding out a welcoming hand, and the Broadway Theater and the
New York Haberdashery and--yes, here are a couple of new ones! I tell
you, Stan, the old _Flubdub’s_ a live un! ‘After the Game--Drink
Merlin Ginger Ale.’ Now, why should I, Stan? Seems to me it’s not
enough to just tell me to drink the stuff: they ought to give me a
reason why--hello! Well, I’ll be swiggled! Listen to this, will you?
‘The Sign of the Football. R. W. Emerson and G. Patterson announce the
opening of their shop at 112 West street with a full line of Athletic
and Sporting Supplies and cordially solicit the patronage of their
fellow students. Quality goods at New York Prices. Academy Discount.
“PandF spells Best!”’”
“That’s the Emerson we found waiting on table at the hotel,” exclaimed
Stanley interestedly. “At least, I suppose it is. I don’t believe
there’s another Emerson in school.”
“I’ll soon tell you,” said Jimmy, rescuing the Supplement from beside
his chair. “Emerson, E., Dribble--that’s a swell cognomen, if you
ask me!--Dutton, Eager--none in the senior class. And none in the
junior--yes, there is, ‘Emerson, Russell Wilcox, Lawrence, N. Y., U.
27.’”
“That’s this fellow,” said Stanley. “R. W., Russell Wilcox. Any others?”
“N-no, not in the-- Hold on, though. Here’s another in the freshman
bunch: ‘Emerson, Ernest Prentice--’”
“Not him. He wouldn’t be a freshie. Besides, the initials aren’t right.
But who’s G. Patterson?”
“Seems to me I remember a Patterson,” mused Jimmy. “Of course! You
know him; at least by sight. Tall, thin gink; curly hair; Canadian, I
think. Rooms in Upton. Wasn’t he trying for baseball last spring?”
Stanley nodded. “Yes, but didn’t make it. I believe he’s a bit of a
tennis shark. I remember. Maybe he and Emerson room together.”
“Right-o!” corroborated Jimmy, referring again to the list. “What do
you know about them opening a store? Got their courage, what? Athletic
goods, eh? Well, honest, Stan, there’s a mighty good chance for some
one to handle a decent line of athletic goods here. Crocker never has
what you want, or, if he has, it’s so old it falls to pieces before you
can use it. Remember the glove you bought last spring?”
Stanley nodded earnestly. “Fool thing went to pieces the third time I
wore it,” he grunted. “Crocker’s higher than thunder, too. He doesn’t
know the War’s over yet! Wouldn’t be surprised if these fellows did
pretty well, Jimmy.”
“Nor I; and I hope they do. This Emerson guy seems to have a lot of
grit, or--or something. Initiative, too. Plucky chap. I liked his looks
that day at Pine Harbor.” After a moment, his eyes returned to the
advertisement, “Say, what do you suppose this cryptic bit means? ‘PandF
spells Best.’ What’s PandF?”
“You may explore me,” replied Stanley, yawning. “Maybe a misprint for
P and E, Patterson and Emerson.”
“But it’s ‘Emerson and Patterson.’ Besides, the thing’s run together,
like one word.”
“It’s probably put there to make fellows curious, just as it’s made
you, Jimmy. Sort of a--a--what do they call ’em? Slogans, isn’t it?
Like ‘It Floats,’ or--or--” But to save his life Stanley couldn’t think
of another example, and he subsided on the pillows again with a grunt.
“Yes, but what’s ‘PandF’?” reiterated Jimmy, frowningly. “Potatoes and
Farina? Pork and--and--”
“Cabbage,” suggested Stanley. “Queer how your thoughts always run
toward food, Jimmy. Isn’t there anything else in the paper?”
“I guess so. Let’s see.” Jimmy turned to the first page. “‘Record
Enrollment’; that’s about the number of fellows; four hundred and
twenty-four, Stan: ‘estimated.’ Don’t see why they have to estimate.
Maybe they didn’t have time to count ’em, though. ‘New Courses
Offered.’ Avaunt! ‘Football Situation.’ Hm, the usual twaddle. ‘Not
in recent years has the Team lost so many of its first-string players
by graduation.’ Guess that’s so, too. ‘Of those who started the Kenly
game last Fall but three remain to serve as a nucleus about which to
build this year’s Eleven; Captain Proctor, tackle, Nichols, center,
and Mawson, half-back. The situation is not, though, as desperate as
this fact would make it appear, as there is much excellent substitute
material on hand. Rhame and McLeod, ends, Rowlandson, guard, Cravath,
center, Richards, quarter-back, Harmon, Austen, Longstreth and Kruger,
half-backs, and Browne and Linthicum, full-backs, have all had
experience, and from them Coach Cade will doubtless be able to select
a Team of no mean ability. What may develop from the new candidates is
problematic, but nearly always one star appears unheralded.’ Hurrah!
There’s a lot more of it, but as I don’t see my name again we’ll quit.
And here’s the schedule. ‘Alton High School, Banning High School,
Lorimer Academy, Hillsport School, New Falmouth High School, Mount
Millard School--’ Say, look where Mount Millard comes, Stan; second
game from the last!”
“Sure! Why not?”
“How come?”
“Why, you dumb-bell, didn’t they whale us last year, 19 to 0?”
“That’s so, but--”
“Well, we’ve put them down the list where we can handle them. Who’s
next?”
“Oak Grove. Then Kenly. We have three games away from home.”
“All faculty will allow. Good thing, too, if you ask me.”
“I hadn’t, old dear, but I will. What’s the answer?”
“Takes too much money traveling around with the team.”
“Oh! Yes, there’s something in that. Here’s a bit about the baseball
situation, but who cares about that? Let’s see, now--”
“Read it,” commanded Stanley.
Jimmy looked across protestingly. “But it’s of absolutely no interest
to any one except a few mistaken idiots who--”
“_Read it!_”
“Oh, well!” Jimmy sighed. “‘Fall baseball practice, which started
Monday, brought out an unusually large field of candidates. Six of
last year’s creditable Team were on hand--’” Jimmy paused and sniffed.
“‘Creditable!’ How do they attain that condition? ‘On hand, and
practically all of the Scrub Nine. Of new men the more promising at
present are Dixon, who hails from Springfield High School, and Jameson,
from Earl Academy. Captain Grainger announces that daily practice will
be held as long as the weather permits, and asks all those who expect
to take part in baseball next Spring to report at once.’ There, there
wasn’t a single mention of your name, Stan. I knew there was no call to
read the piffle.”
“We’ll have a corking team this year,” mused Stanley.
“Huh, you said that last year, and look what Kenly did to you!”
“That’s all right,” replied the other warmly. “We landed seventeen out
of twenty-one games and tied one--the best record in--”
“Son, you lost to Kenly, and that’s the unforgivable sin,” interrupted
Jimmy didactically.
“Oh, well,” grumbled Stanley.
“Not, of course, that baseball is a sport to be taken seriously,”
continued Jimmy lightly. “We can lose at soccer and tennis and baseball
and still hold our heads up; which is extremely fortunate, too. Those
minor sports--” He broke off to dodge a cushion, and then looked at his
watch. “Geewhillikins, Stan! It’s after six! Move your lazy bones and
let’s eat!”
Whereupon all was bustle and action in Number 4 Lykes Hall.