A CALL FOR HELP
"Hello! Jack, I was just thinking of dropping around at your place.
Can you spare me a few minutes of your precious time this morning?"
Big Bob Jeffries called this across to the other, down on the main
street of Chester. Jack was hurrying along, after finishing the
several errands that had taken him into the heart of the shopping
district. It was on the great Saturday morning that was to give the
town folks their first taste of real football. Everywhere people
seemed to be talking about it, and the chances the local team had of
pulling off a victory. Jack, being known as the captain of the eleven,
and an acknowledged leader among his fellows, was greeted with many an
anxious question concerning the condition of the team, and whether he
really and truly expected to score a triumph against the hard-playing
Marshall crowd.
To all such inquiries the boy had returned a merry answer, simply
saying:
"We're going to do our level best, and we have hopes, that's all I can
say. Tell you more about it this evening."
When he heard Big Bob calling out this request a look of real concern
flashed across Jack's face, the very first that morning. He feared
lest the other was about to spring some sort of disagreeable surprise
upon him at almost the last hour.
All along he had managed to keep Bob sort of buoyed up with constantly
renewed hope that his troubles were sure to end in smoke. But
evidently the big fellow had suffered in secret, and was in quite a
nervous state of mind.
"Certainly I can, Bob!" he exclaimed, starting to cross over to where
the other stood, looking so forlorn that had any observing fellow come
along just then and noticed the expression on his face, he might have
spread an alarm to the effect that the big fullback was ill, and
consequently there would be a weak spot in the line-up that afternoon,
as sure as anything.
"I hate ever so much to bother you, Jack, with my personal affairs,
just when, of course, you've got your hands full of the coming battle
on the gridiron; but I must ease my head or something will burst, I'm
feeling that wretched."
"Come along and walk with me," said Jack, promptly. "I am in a little
of a hurry, but we can be going in the direction of my house, and take
it slowly. Now what's happened, Bob?"
"Happened, Jack? Why, nothing at all, and that's just what's the
matter. If only something _did_ come along to break up this terrible
monotony, I'd welcome it; but every day's like the one before it. I go
to bed, and get to sleep all right, but when I wake up along in the
early hours, about two or three o'clock, I begin to think, and lie
there till dawn comes, just groaning to myself, and trying to make
up my mind what I ought to do."
"I'm sorry to hear that, Big Bob, sure I am," said Jack, his voice
telling the same thing. "But you say things haven't changed at home.
By that I reckon you mean your father hasn't asked you anything about
that letter he gave you to mail?"
"Not yet, Jack, but I'm mighty much afraid it's going to come any time
now. You see, he must be getting anxious because he's received no
answer to his letter, though of course there hasn't been any too much
time so far. But my mother is worried on account of _me_. I've almost
lost my appetite. The things that used to appeal to me the most I now
let pass with barely two helpings. She knows there's something gone
wrong; you can always trust a boy's mother for being the first to
suspect that, when he gets off his feed."
"Does she say anything to you?" asked Jack, solicitously, for it
pained him to see how much Big Bob felt it all.
"Oh! every day she asks me if I'm real sure I'm not sick," came the
slow reply. "I always tell her I'm all right; but say, she knows
better, Jack. I can't meet her eyes when she looks at me like that.
Once she begged me to tell her what had gone wrong with me, whether I
was doing poorly at school, even if my report stood to the contrary;
but I tried to laugh that off, and told her I'd soon be all right
again, after this football game, mebbe."
"I hope you will, Bob, and a lot of us will have a big load off our
minds if only we can come back home this afternoon, singing, and
feeling joyous. Of course you never really knew how that little scheme
of mine worked, did you?"
"Meaning the idea of putting that marked paper where my dad would be
sure to see the item about the man who sent follow-up letters abroad,
so as to make certain one of them would get to its destination, in
spite of British blockade and German submarines? Why, no, I never
found out if father took to the idea or not. I only know he must have
seen the paper, because I found it later on his desk in the library,
and I left it crumpled up on the floor. He never asked me where it
came from, so I didn't have to tell him you had it wrapped around an
old sweater you were returning to me. All I'm sure of is that he
didn't trust me to mail a second foreign letter. I only wish he had."
"You said he was beginning to look serious, didn't you?" continued
Jack.
"Why, yes, and I can just _feel_ him watching me when he thinks I'm
not looking. He certainly must suspect something, Jack. But the queer
part of it all is that lately he's been a heap more gentle with me
than I ever knew him to be before."
"I don't quite get the hang of that, Bob."
"Well, you must know that my dad is reckoned a stern man. Folks have
always looked on him as what they call austere. He's engaged in a
business that keeps his mind away up in the clouds most of the time,
and he just can't pay much attention to the small things of life. I
heard him tell that once, and I've tried to understand what it really
meant, but somehow I couldn't, because my nature is just the opposite,
so I guess I must take after my mother's side of the family. I can
hardly remember the time when my dad played with me, or seemed at all
interested in my childish hopes and fears. It was always Ma to whom I
went with my troubles; and Jack, she never failed me. That's what
makes it so hard for me now. Only for you to confide in, I don't know
what I'd have done."
He seemed on the verge of breaking down at this point. Jack in order
to prevent anything like this hastened to ask again:
"Go on, Bob, and tell me just how your father is acting differently
nowadays from what he's always done."
"Why, you see," continued the other, with a spasmodic movement of his
big frame that might have been caused, Jack suspected, by a half-
suppressed sob welling up from his sorely distressed heart, "he's not
only been watching me close at times, but twice now he's even asked me
something about the football match with Marshall; and last night Ma
told me he had said they must surely go over today and watch me play.
Oh! Jack, that nearly broke me all up. I felt just like I must throw
my arms around my mother's neck, and pour out the whole wretched story
of my carelessness."
"But you didn't, I suppose, Bob?"
"No, I managed to blurt out an excuse for hurrying away, though I kind
of think she must have seen that there were tears in my eyes, for she
called after me; but I didn't dare turn back right then, and pretended
not to hear her. Later on I'd managed to get a fresh grip on myself,
and even smiled a little, though I tell you that was the most ghastly
smile I ever knew, for it was a hollow mockery, Jack."
"But you've held out this far, Bob, and you must pull yourself
together so as to go through the game today," Jack went on to say,
warmly. "If you failed us our goose would surely be cooked, you know,
because the fellow who has been practicing as your understudy at
fullback is a mighty poor fish, and Marshall will know it as soon as
the first period is over, especially if they push us hard, and he
breaks down, as he's pretty sure to do."
"Oh! as to that, Jack, I'm not meaning to give up just now. I've got
my mind made up to play savagely today. I want to forget my troubles,
and I'll take it out on Marshall. Besides, I'll always be remembering
that Ma and Dad will be there seeing no one but their Bobbie; and it
might ease my pain if only I could do some half-way decent stunt that
would bring out the cheers, and make them glad I was a Jeffries."
"Shake hands on that, Bob. I felt pretty sure you wouldn't fall down
at the last minute."
"I guess I've got a little too much pride in myself for that," said
the other, trying to look like his old self for once. "But that
Thanksgiving game is another question. If this sort of thing keeps on,
I'll surely be a nervous wreck by then, and too weak and wobbly to
play."
"Oh! don't cross bridges before you come to them, Big Bob," sang out
Jack, wishing to inspire the other with fresh confidence. "That's a
poor policy, you know, and some fellows are addicted to it. There's
another old saying that you might take to heart, and which runs like
this: 'Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof;' which also means
that it is foolish to worry, because nine-tenths of the time what we
imagine is hanging over our heads never really comes off."
"Well, one thing I'm sure of, Jack, and that is that you're the boss
comforter. No matter how badly I'm feeling, only let me get in touch
with you, and I seem to draw in new life and hope. I'll never forget
all your kindness, you can depend on that, Jack Winters."
"Oh! don't mention it, Bob; you'd do the same for me, or any other
fellow, given a chance, because it's in your nature. But let's speak
again of your father, for after all he's the central object of the
whole thing. You said in the beginning that you feared he was
beginning to suspect you, and that from the way he kept watching you
when you were reading, you felt as if he might up and say something
about that letter?"
"Yes, sometimes that gives me a cold chill; and then again I'm puzzled
to know why he's taken to being so much kinder than usual. Why,
honestly, Jack, just last night he even asked me if my old skates were
still good for this season's use, or would I like to have a pair like
those he'd noticed in the window down at Higgins' store. Oh! that
nearly broke me all up. I felt as if I wanted to throw myself down on
my knees before Mm, and say that I didn't deserve new skates, or
anything like that this year, because I was a wretched, careless boy,
who had done something wicked. But somehow I managed to stammer out
that I guessed my old ones were going to be good enough for one more
season, though, Jack, they are in bad shape; but then it would have
made me feel worse than ever if I'd accepted his offer, after failing
him when he trusted me."
Of course Jack knew that Big Bob was making a mountain out of
molehills, but he could readily understand how that came. The big
fellow was extremely sensitive, and the possible enormity of his
offense kept standing out before him all the time and constantly
growing in dimensions.
What he said about his father made Jack secretly smile. It was about
time, he told himself, that a reserved man like Mr. Jeffries woke up,
and began to take more interest in his children, and not leave it all
to his good wife. And in the end possibly this affair might work out
for the good of all concerned, the father as well as the son.
Meanwhile, Big Bob must be encouraged to hold on for a time longer,
until they could know the actual state of affairs.