IN 7 DUDLEY
There was no need to knock at the door of Number 7, for the portal was
wide open and Loring and Dyer and a third person whom Dan didn’t know
were in plain sight. Dan stood for an instant in the doorway, but for
an instant only, for Alf Loring caught sight of him, gave a shout,
hurdled a suit-case and dragged him into the room.
“Hello, you old chump!” he cried. “When did you get here? We looked
all through the train for you. How are you? Isn’t it great to get back
again? I want you to know my brother Herb. Herb’s going to stay over
night with us. Herb, this is Dan Vinton.”
Dan shook hands with the elder brother and with Tom Dyer, Loring’s
roommate. Dyer only said “Hello, Dan,” in his slow, quiet way, but
his hand-clasp and the smile that accompanied it said a lot more. Alf
Loring talked on breathlessly as he threw bags out of the way and told
everyone to find a seat.
“Herb’s on his way to New Haven, Dan. He’s coming here in the Fall to
help turn out the dandiest team old Yardley’s ever had, aren’t you,
Herb?”
“Maybe,” answered his brother smilingly. “If you fellows want me.”
“Of course we want you!” cried Alf. “What have I been telling you all
along?”
“Well, I don’t know how your coach would like it, Kid. He may not want
anyone butting in.”
“Payson? Don’t you believe it! Payson’s a dandy chap, Herb; he’ll be
pleased to death to have someone take a hand. Won’t he, Dan?”
“I should think he ought to be,” Dan replied. “Especially a man like
Mr. Loring.”
The Yale man acknowledged the compliment with a nod and a laugh. “I
don’t know much about coaching, though,” he said. “I’ve never tried it.”
“Oh, well, you know how to play football,” said Alf, “and that’s more
than some coaches do. You’ll be all right. With me to help you,” he
added as an afterthought. At which they all laughed, even Dyer. Herbert
Loring was a big, broad-chested, handsome fellow who looked a little
bit spoiled. He was in his junior year at Yale and was one of the star
half-backs. It was evident that Alf thought this big brother a very
fine and important person, and equally evident that big brother wasn’t
denying it. But in spite of the fact that he seemed a trifle too well
pleased with himself, Dan quite liked him.
For a time the talk dwelt on football, football past and future,
football at Yale, and football at Yardley. Tom Dyer’s part in the
discussion was slight, he preferring to get his bag unpacked and his
things put away. But it was Tom who finally switched the conversation
away from football.
“That protegé of yours shown up yet, Dan?” he asked, pausing on his way
to the closet with a pair of shoes in each hand.
“Not yet. He and his father are coming on the six o’clock train, I
believe.”
“By Jove!” exclaimed Alf. “I’d forgotten all about Little Lord
Fauntleroy. Poor old Dan!”
“Who’s Little Lord Fauntleroy?” asked Herbert Loring.
“Dan’s new roommate and protegé. I told you about him, don’t you
remember?” Big Brother shook his head and taking one knee into his
clasped hands leaned back comfortably against the cushions of the
window-seat.
“No, you didn’t, Kid. Who is he? Let’s hear about him.”
“It’s all just like a story in a book,” said Alf, with a grin at Dan.
“It happened last Fall. You know who John T. Pennimore is, don’t you?”
“The man they call the Steamship King? He lives around here, doesn’t
he?”
“Yes, you can see his place from out front. Sound View he calls it;
and it’s a dandy; there’s eight acres of it, with a regular palace of
a house, stables, kennels, gardener’s lodge, hot-houses, and all that
sort of thing. They say he’s worth a hundred millions.”
“They say a whole lot of rot,” said his brother witheringly. “He
probably has ten or fifteen millions.”
“Is that all?” murmured Tom. “Wonder how he lives!”
“Well, anyhow, he’s rich, all right. And he’s done two or three things
for the school, they say; given money, I suppose; shouldn’t wonder if
he owned some stock in it. Does he, do you think, Dan?”
“I never heard him say anything about it,” Dan replied. Herbert Loring
looked across at him with surprise and interest.
“Do you know him?” he asked.
“Know him?” scoffed Alf. “Why, they’re as thick as thieves, aren’t you,
Dan? I wouldn’t be surprised if they called each other by their first
names.”
“Well, where’s the story?” asked his brother impatiently.
“Coming right along. John T. has one son, a kid of about--how old,
Dan? Fourteen? Yes. And of course the old gentleman thinks a whole lot
of him. Well, one day last Fall our hero--” with a bow to Dan--“was
walking through the woods to the beach by the path that leads along
John T’s fence when he heard a dickens of a yowling; sounded like a dog
having its tail cut off. So our hero investigates.”
“Cut out the ‘hero’ business,” begged Dan.
“Pardon me! Mr. Vinton investigates and finds that on the other side of
the fence is a play-house and that the dog is shut up in the play-house
and that the play-house is on fire. I say, Dan, it’s always been a
mystery to me how that thing got on fire.”
“It was funny,” responded Dan carelessly.
“Well, anyhow,” continued Alf, “Dan climbs the fence and finds this
young Pennimore kid, breaking into the house with an axe to rescue the
dog. He tries to make him behave but the kid insists on rescuing Fido.
So in he goes. By that time the house is full of flames and smoke and
such things. Dan waits a minute and the kid doesn’t come out again.
Then Dan ties a handkerchief around his mouth, girds up his loins and
dashes into the seething cauldron--”
“That’s water,” interrupted Tom disgustedly. “You mean ‘the sea of
flames.’”
“All right, Tom; dashes into the sea of flames and pulls out the kid
and the dog, too, and gets nicely baked in the process.”
“Nonsense!” said Dan. “I only got a couple of little burns on my leg
and arm.”
“Who’s telling this story?” demanded Alf. “You dry up! Well, old John
T. comes along with some of his servants and finds them and takes them
up to the house and has them put to bed and gets the doctor for them.
Whether he offered Dan half his kingdom I don’t know; Dan’s awfully
tight with his details; but I’ll bet he could have had anything he’d
wanted, say half a dozen steamships. John T. keeps him at his house
until noon next day, sends word to Toby, that’s our Principal here,
you know, that Dan’s made a jolly hero of himself and that he isn’t to
be licked for staying away from school. Of course the kid’s grateful,
too, and between them they come pretty near spoiling little Daniel;
automobile rides, trips on John T’s big ocean yacht, dinners and
luncheons and all the rest of it! Oh, Dan’s the whole works at Sound
View!”
“Bully for you!” laughed Herbert Loring with a glance of admiration at
Dan.
“But the best part of the story is to come,” said Alf. “Old Toby has
always been eager to get John T. to send his son to school here; he’s
been after the boy on the quiet for a couple of years; but John T. was
afraid something might happen to little Gerald if he got up here with
all us great rough rowdies--”
“Come now, Alf, that’s a whopper,” interrupted Dan warmly. “You can’t
blame Mr. Pennimore, I think, for being soft over the boy. His wife’s
dead and Gerald’s all he’s got to be fond of.”
“That and fifteen millions,” muttered Tom gravely.
“Well, anyhow, he wouldn’t think of it. Had a private tutor for Gerald
and watched him every minute. Broadwood Academy wanted to get the kid,
too, Herb. I guess that’s one reason Toby wanted him here; we always
like to get ahead of Broadwood, you know. Well, to make a long story
short, as they say, Dan has the cheek to tell John T. that if he wants
to make a man out of his boy the only thing to do is to send him to
Yardley. And John T. thinks it over awhile and finally agrees to do it
if Dan will take Gerald to room with him and look after him; warm his
milk for him and cover him up at night, and all that sort of thing, you
know. And now the question before the meeting is; Who is the joke on?”
“I should say it was on Vinton,” laughed his brother. “I’m afraid
you’re in for a hard time of it.”
“You ought to know better than to believe all Alf tells you,” replied
Dan untroubledly. “Mr. Pennimore didn’t ask me to let Gerald room with
me. That was my idea. My roommate had left school and I thought I might
as well take Gerald in. He’s not a milksop at all, in spite of what
Alf says. He’s been spoiled a bit, but a month or so here will knock
all that out of him. Mr. Pennimore is as fine a man as I ever met and
I’m mighty glad to do anything for him I can. I don’t propose to warm
Gerald’s milk for him, as Alf puts it, but I intend to be decent to him
and see that he has a fair chance. Lots of the fellows will be down on
him at the start just because he is John T. Pennimore’s son. That isn’t
fair. He can’t help it if his father is a millionaire. Lots of fellows
here have fathers who have plenty of money, only they’ve never been
talked about in the papers.”
“There’s something in that, Dan,” Alf allowed. “Here’s Tom here. Tom’s
father owns about everything in his part of New Jersey, so they say,
but Tom isn’t half bad when you get to know him.”
Tom only smiled.
“Glad you think that way,” said Dan earnestly, “for I want you two
fellows to be nice to Gerald and help me all you can.”
“You do, eh?” asked Alf. “Well, we’ll do it for your sake, Dan. Bring
the kid around some time and we’ll look him over. What class is he
going into?”
“Fourth. He could have made the Third easily if it hadn’t been for
math.”
“Why doesn’t he live at home?” asked Herbert Loring.
“The winter home is in New York,” Dan explained. “Sound View is just a
summer place. Besides, Mr. Pennimore is going abroad pretty soon for
several months, I believe. That’s one reason he was willing to let
Gerald come here; he said he guessed he’d be safer here than all alone
in New York with just the servants.”
“Oh, I dare say the kid isn’t as bad as Alf makes out,” said the elder
Loring. “I don’t envy you your job, though, Vinton. If you’ll take my
advice, and I know what I’m talking about, you’ll let him hoe his own
row. I dare say a few hard knocks are only what he needs.”
“And I’ll bet he will get them,” observed Tom thoughtfully.
“Whatever happens,” counselled Alf, “make him understand that he’s got
to take things as they come and that the sooner he forgets that his dad
has any money the better it’ll be for him.”
“I’m going to,” answered Dan. “Or, at least, I’m going to try. He isn’t
a bad sort at all, and I don’t want him to make a mess of things here,
especially after persuading his father to let him come.”
“Well, don’t you worry,” said Alf. “We’ll help you out all we can. I
guess he will get on all right. He must have some sense or he wouldn’t
be John T’s son!”
“Must be supper time,” said Tom. “Something tells me so, and it isn’t
my watch either.”
“That’s right, it’s five minutes after six. Come on, fellows. I’ll find
a place for you at our table, Herb. Are you hungry?”
“Sort of. Well, glad to have met you, Vinton. Come and see me if you
get up to New Haven. Alf will tell you where I live.”
“Oh, you’re not through with Dan yet,” laughed Alf. “He sits at our
table.”
“But not to-night,” replied Dan, as they went out. “Toby’s invited me
to his table. Mr. Pennimore and Gerald will be there, you know.”
“Well, what do you think of that?” cried Alf.