The Kennedy House Educational Quick Lunch Institute broke up in wrath
a week later when an innocent inquiry of Beekstein's for the passwords
revealed the direction of the club's finances.
Meanwhile, true to his resolve, Dink, with the assistance of Finnegan
and the Tennessee Shad, had started the fad of souvenir toilet sets;
which, like all fads, ran its course the faster because of its high
qualities of absurdity and uselessness. Dink's intention of recouping
himself by selling his own set of seven colors at a big advance was
cut short by a spontaneous protest to the Doctor from the house
masters, whose artistic souls were stirred to wrath at the hideous
invasion. The subject was then so successfully treated from the
pulpit, with all the power of sarcasm that it afforded, that the only
distinct artistic movement of New Jersey expired in ridicule.
Dink took this check severely to heart and, of course, beheld in this
thwarting of his scheme to dispose of the abhorrent set with honor a
fresh demonstration of the implacability of The Roman.
He wandered gloomily from Laloo's and Appleby's to the Jigger Shop;
where, after pulling his hat over his eyes, folding his arms
inconsolably, he confided his desires of revenge on Doc Macnooder to
the sympathetic ears of the guardian of the Jigger.
"Why not get up a contest and offer it as a prize?" said Al.
"Have you seen it?" said Dink, who then did the subject full justice.
Al remained very thoughtful for a long while, running back dreamily
through the avenues of the past for some stratagem.
"I remember way back in the winter of '88," he said at last, "there
was a slick coot by the name of Chops Van Dyne, who got strapped and
hit upon a scheme for decoying the shekels."
"What was that?" said Dink hopefully.
"He got up a guessing contest with a blind prize."
"A what?"
"A blind prize all done up in tissue paper and ribbons, and no one was
to know what was in it until it was won. It certainly was amazing the
number of suckers that paid a quarter to satisfy their curiosity."
"Well, what was inside?" said Dink at once.
"There you are!" said Al. "Why, nothing, of course--a lemon,
perhaps--but the point is, every one just had to know."
"Not a word!" said Dink, springing up triumphantly.
"Mum as the grave," said Al, accepting his handshake.
Dink went romping back like a young spring goat, his busy mind seizing
all the ramifications possible from the central theory. He found the
Tennessee Shad and communicated the great idea.
"I don't like the guessing part," said the Tennessee Shad.
"Nor I. We must get up a contest."
"A championship."
"Something devilishly original."
"Exactly."
"Well, what?"
"We must think."
The day was passed in fruitless searching but the next morning brought
the answer in the following manner: Dink and the Tennessee Shad--as
the majority of trained Laurentians--were accustomed to wallow
gloriously in bed until the breakfast gong itself. At the first crash
they would spring simultaneously forth and race through their dressing
for the winning of the stairs. Now this was an art in itself and many
records were claimed and disputed. The Tennessee Shad, like most lazy
natures, when aroused was capable of extraordinary bursts of speed and
was one of the claimants for the authorized record of twenty-six and a
fifth seconds from the bed to the door, established by the famous
Hickey Hicks who--as has been related--had departed to organize the
industries of his country. Of a consequence Stover was invariably
still at his collar button when the thin shadow of the Shad glided out
of the door. But on the present morning, the shoe laces of the
Tennessee Shad snapping in his hand, Dink reached the exit a bare yard
in advance. Suddenly he stopped, clasped the Tennessee Shad by the
middle and flung him toward the ceiling.
"I have it," he cried. "We'll organize the dressing championship of
the school!"
That very evening a poster was distributed among the houses, thus
conceived:
FIRST AMATEUR DRESSING CHAMPIONSHIP
OF THE SCHOOL
under the management of that well-known
Sporting Promoter
MR. DINK STOVER