THE LISTS ARE POSTED
Back in Clarke, Dan and Gerald spread out their books on opposite sides
of the table for an hour or more of study. Gerald was keeping his
promise to Mr. McIntyre, and was really doing the best he was capable
of at algebra. But it did seem as though Fate was against him, for, in
order to do full justice to mathematics, he had to give less time to
his other studies, with the result that his French had been suffering
of late, and Mr. Von Groll had once or twice showed impatience. It
seemed desperately hard to please everyone, thought Gerald.
Across the table Dan browsed through his morrow’s Latin, and then
settled down to geometry. Now and then Gerald interrupted to ask
assistance, and once Dan reached over for the younger boy’s book and
puzzled out a line in Cæsar’s Gallic War for him. Nine o’clock struck,
and Gerald looked up from his book with a sigh, glanced hopefully at
Dan, found that youth still absorbed, and, with another sigh, went back
to work. But ten minutes later Gerald pushed his book resolutely away,
yawned, stretched, and spoke.
“I wish this universal disarmament they talk about nowadays had been a
fact about 50 B. C.,” he said regretfully.
“Yes? Why?” asked Dan, looking up.
“There wouldn’t have been any Gallic War, and I wouldn’t have to read
about it.”
“Well,” said Dan, “you’d better not let Collins hear you put the date
of the Gallic War as 50.”
“Oh, well, it was around there somewhere,” answered Gerald indifferently.
“What’s the good of being particular about the date of a thing that took
place thousands of years ago? I never could remember dates, anyway. I
guess I’m only sure about three.”
“And what are those?” asked Dan, closing his books and piling them in
place.
“My birthday, the day they fired on Fort Sumter, and the date of the
Third and Fourth Class baseball game.”
Dan laughed. “You want to be careful and not overtax that brain
of yours, Gerald,” he said. Then: “That reminds me,” he said more
seriously. “There’s going to be a good debate Saturday evening. Want to
go along?”
“Yes, thanks, I’d like to very much.”
“Cambridge and Oxford take fellows from the Fourth Class in a week or
two,” continued Dan. “Have you made up your mind which you want to
join?”
“Cambridge,” answered Gerald promptly. “They both seem very nice, but
you and Alf are both in Cambridge, and--and I think I’d rather go
there--that is, if I can. Do you think I can?”
“That’s what I want to talk about,” replied Dan, pushing back his chair
and clasping his hands behind his head. “You see, the Society holds a
meeting--it’s a week from Friday--and takes up the names of the fellows
in order. If a majority of the fellows there are in favor of the chap
his name goes to the Admission Committee. That committee is made up of
the President and two members from each of the three upper classes,
that is, seven members in all. They pass finally on the candidates for
admission, and a candidate has to get the whole seven votes to receive
an invitation. Understand?”
“Yes,” answered Gerald anxiously.
“Well, we can get you past the meeting all right, Gerald, and we’re
pretty certain of five of the seven on the Committee, but the other
two, the Third Class members, are rather more difficult. Neither Alf
nor I know them very well. One is a chap named Hiltz and the other is
this fellow Thompson.”
“I guess that queers me, then,” said Gerald mournfully.
“You think Thompson would vote against you?”
Gerald nodded. “I’m pretty sure he would.”
“But he said awhile ago, didn’t he, that you and he were quits?”
“Ye-es, but I don’t think he meant it. He doesn’t like me, I know.”
“Well,” said Dan hesitatingly, “Alf suggested--in fact, I think so,
too, that you might sort of let him understand that you are ready to
be friends. It won’t be necessary to say very much, I guess; you might
just speak to him when you see him, and then, if you have the chance,
get into conversation with him. It wouldn’t be hard.”
“I’d rather not get into either society than do that,” declared Gerald
vehemently. “And--and I don’t believe you’d do it yourself, Dan!”
“Well, I don’t know,” said Dan hesitatingly. “Maybe you’re right.
But I felt that I ought to let you know how things stand, so you can
do as you like about--making up with Thompson. I guess this fellow
Hiltz hasn’t anything against you, and so it’s up to Thompson. He can
undoubtedly keep you out of the society if he wants to, Gerald. But
maybe he won’t; perhaps we’re crossing our bridge before we come to it.”
Gerald was silent for a moment. Dan could see that he was greatly
disappointed. Finally:
“Well,” he said, “if I can’t get in, I can’t. But I was hoping--”
“Well, we’re not beaten yet,” said Dan cheerfully. “Besides, I wouldn’t
be surprised if you got an invitation from Oxford. Of course, we
Cambridge fellows pretend that our society is better than the other,
but there isn’t any particular difference, you know. Oxford has some
dandy fellows, and you and Tom get on pretty well together, and--”
“I shan’t join Oxford,” muttered Gerald. “If I can’t get into Cambridge
I don’t want to join anything.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” said Dan soothingly. “You’d have just as
good fun in Oxford, Gerald. And you know some of the fellows there now,
and Tom can introduce you to lots more.”
But Gerald shook his head and refused to compromise, and all Dan’s
arguments failed to shake his determination to stand or fall by
Cambridge. Nothing more was said about currying favor with Thompson.
After all, Dan scarcely approved of it himself; it savored too much of
what, in school parlance, was known as “swiping.”
Perhaps it would have been just as well if Dan had not suggested it to
Gerald at all, for the latter fearing in his pride that Thompson might
think he was trying to ingratiate himself, went to quite the opposite
extreme, and, whereas hitherto he had responded to Thompson’s careless,
good-natured nods of greeting, he now refused to notice that youth at
all! The first time this occurred Thompson thought nothing of it. The
second time he scowled and confided to the fellow he was walking with
that “that Pennimore kid was a stuck-up little chump.”
Meanwhile May came softly in and all Yardley was out of doors. The
field and track team was preparing for another victory over Broadwood,
golf enthusiasts were holding tournaments on the slightest provocation,
and the baseball teams, almost a dozen of them in all, were disputing
every foot of the field. Besides the Varsity nine, there were four
Class teams, as many dormitory teams, and several “scrub” nines.
Yardley would have seemed to a stranger to be baseball-mad that Spring.
The Varsity had a schedule of eleven games. Of these, four had been
played by the end of the first week in May, and the Blue had three
victories and one defeat to her credit. The defeat had come at the
hands of Forest Hill School, and it had been such a drubbing for
Yardley that it quite took the fellows’ breath away. Fourteen to three
was the score. Most of the enemy’s tallies had been made during a
tragic three innings in which Reid, a substitute pitcher, had occupied
the box. Reid had subsequently steadied down, but for three innings
more Forest Hill had added an occasional run to her score, and when,
at the beginning of the sixth, Colton had stepped in to the rescue the
game was past recovery. One result of the game had been to greatly
endanger Condit’s position at third base, and now Dan was holding down
that bag quite as often as the Second Class boy. It was not, however,
until the contest with St. John’s Academy, which took place on a
Saturday toward the middle of May, that Dan found himself starting a
game at third.
St. John always brought down a strong team, and Yardley always did
her level best to win the contest, which was looked upon as being a
test of the Yardley team’s ability. A week later St. John’s would meet
Broadwood, and so it was possible to make a comparison between Blue and
Green. Colton started the game in the box, it being planned to use him
until the game was safely “on ice.” Then Reid or Kelsey was to replace
him. As it happened, though, neither of the substitute twirlers got
into the game, for St. John’s proved to be a hard-hitting lot, and it
was not until the last of the eighth inning that the Yardley supporters
breathed easy. Then a lucky streak of batting, inaugurated by Captain
Millener, and continued by Left-fielder Loring and Shortstop Durfee,
added three runs to the Blue’s tally, and the scorebook showed the home
team leading by two runs. But it wouldn’t do to take risks even then,
and so Colton pitched the game out, managing to blank St. John’s in the
half-inning that remained.
Dan played a good game at third, accepting three chances and making
good each time. He had three assists and one put-out to his credit when
the game was over, while his batting record, if not startling, was
creditable for a first game. He made one hit, struck out twice, and
reached first once on four balls and once on fielder’s choice. There
was a good deal of luck mixed up with this showing, but Dan didn’t
worry about that. Taken altogether, he had made good, and Payson as
much as said so later in the gymnasium. And Dan was so elated that he
actually forgot to yell when the cold water struck him in the shower!
On the following Monday the invitations came out from Cambridge and
Oxford. The lists were posted in Oxford Hall at noon. Cambridge had
issued twenty-one invitations and Oxford twenty-six. Gerald Pennimore’s
name was on the Oxford list, but not on the other. The expected had
happened.