GRADUATION AND GOOD NEWS
By Monday afternoon Dick’s fears regarding the result of the English
examination proved groundless, perhaps because he had heroically
resisted Chub’s invitation to go fishing Saturday afternoon and had
spent most of that period with his head close above his books and his
lips moving continuously. There was only one more day of work, and Dick
was heartily glad of it. He didn’t like studying, and frankly said so.
His mother had died when he was fourteen, and his schooling, decidedly
intermittent at best, ceased abruptly while he and his father dwelt in
hotels at home and abroad as the latter’s business demanded. Dick’s
recent years had been spent in the West, and when, in January last, his
father had suggested another trip abroad, Dick had rebelled, professing
a preference for school. That he now owed allegiance to Ferry Hill
rather than to Hammond was due to a chance meeting on the ice with
Harry, who had so cleverly proclaimed the merits of Ferry Hill that
Dick, already domiciled at the rival academy awaiting the beginning
of the new term, had coolly repacked his trunk and transferred it and
himself across the river. For awhile the others had called him “the
Brand from the Burning,” but the name was much too long for everyday
use, and now he was just Dick--save when Chub or Roy elaborated and
called him Dickums--one of the most popular fellows at Ferry Hill
School, and the most promising candidate in sight for the school
leadership in the autumn.
At three o’clock on Tuesday the last examination was over, and at a few
minutes past that hour Dick, Roy, Chub, and Harry, the three former in
a blissful state of relief, feeling as boys do feel when the last book
has been flung aside for the summer, sat in the shade of the Cottage
porch.
“If Cobb gives me a C in German,” said Chub hopefully, “I’m all right.”
“Well, I guess I got through,” said Dick proudly, “but it was hard
work.”
“Shucks!” scoffed Chub. “Just you wait until next year!”
“Now don’t scare him to death,” Roy protested. “If you don’t look out
he won’t show up in the fall at all. How are you getting on, Harry?”
“Me? Oh, I’m all right, I guess. My last exam’s to-morrow; botany. Now
you needn’t laugh,” she added indignantly. “Botany’s awfully hard.”
“What’s the sense of it?” asked Chub. “What good is it going to do you
to know whether a leaf’s lanceolate or--or composite?”
“Don’t display your ignorance, Chub,” laughed Roy.
“What good are lots of things they teach us?” Harry demanded.
“Like--like music and drawing?”
“Come now, Harry, music’s all right,” Roy protested. “As for drawing--”
“It’s perfect nonsense! Why, I couldn’t draw one of those wooden cubes
and make it look square if I was to try a whole year!”
“But you ought to like music, Harry,” said Chub. “You know you have a
charming voice, a natural--er--contralto, isn’t it?”
Harry made a face at him.
“I can sing just as well as you can, Smarty, anyhow!”
“I hope so,” said Dick. “Chub sings like a coyote in distress!”
“There speaks envy,” murmured Chub sadly. “I have a very melodious
voice, and the beauty of it is that I can sing bass or tenor or--what’s
the other thing I sing, Roy?”
“Discord,” answered his chum unkindly.
“That is not so,” responded Chub indignantly. “To show you what a
fine voice I have I will now sing for you that charming little ditty
entitled--”
“Not much you won’t!” declared Dick threateningly. “If you try to sing
we’ll thrash you. Look here, how about that letter? Have you heard from
your folks yet?”
“No, do you think I correspond by wireless?” answered Chub. “I can’t
possibly hear before Thursday morning. It doesn’t matter, anyhow, I
keep telling you. Dad won’t hear of such a thing.”
“How would it do if we all wrote to him?” asked Dick, anxiously. Chub
smiled grimly.
“You’d better not if you don’t want to get a scorcher of a letter
in reply. My dad’s a good sort, all right, but he doesn’t let any
one else run his business for him. I have inherited that quality
of--er--firmness.” Roy and Dick howled impolitely.
“What are you all talking about?” asked Harry anxiously. “You’ve gone
and got a secret, and I don’t think it’s very nice of you!”
“Why, it isn’t really a secret,” answered Roy, hurriedly. “If there
hadn’t been so much going on we’d have told you about it. We three are
trying to get our folks to let us camp out for a month or so on Fox
Island after school closes; that is, if your father will let us, and I
guess he will.”
“Then you won’t go home yet?” cried Harry, delightedly.
“Not if we get permission. It all depends on Chub--”
“On Chub’s father you mean,” growled that youth.
“Because I’m pretty sure of my folks,” continued Roy; “and Dick says
his father won’t mind if he stays a month longer.”
“That will be fine,” said Harry; but a moment later her face fell
prodigiously. “Only it won’t do me any good,” she added, sorrowfully,
“because I’ll be visiting Aunt Harriet most of the time.”
“That’s too bad,” said Roy. “Can’t you fix it to go later?”
Harry shook her head. “No, she goes to the seashore in August, you see.
I think it’s just too mean for anything; and I know you will just have
lovely times. I--I hope papa won’t let you do it!”
“Well!” ejaculated Chub. “Of all dogs in the manger that I ever met,
Harry, you take the prize!”
“Well, I just do,” muttered Harry, rebelliously; “and I’m going to tell
him not to!”
Chub and Dick viewed her anxiously, but Roy only smiled.
“We’re not afraid of that, Harry,” he said.
She looked at him a moment frowningly, then sighed and smiled as she
said plaintively:
“Well, I don’t care, Roy Porter, I think it’s awfully mean! Maybe I
won’t ever see you and Chub again, and just when I might be with you I
have to go away. And I don’t have any fun at Aunt Harriet’s, anyway;
it’s too stupid for anything!”
“Well, I wouldn’t worry yet,” said Roy, “because, maybe it will all
fall through. You heard what Chub said about getting permission, and,
of course, if he can’t stay we won’t; it wouldn’t be any fun for just
two fellows.”
“I guess you could find some one else,” said Chub.
“I guess we’re not going to try,” said Dick.
“Of course not,” Roy agreed. “If you can’t make it we’ll call it off;
but we will hope for the best, eh?”
“It won’t do you any good,” muttered Chub. “It’s me for that old Water
Gap place.”
“And me for Aunt Harriet Beverly’s,” sighed Harry. And then, struck by
a radiant idea, she added breathlessly: “Maybe I could run away and
come back here and live with you on the island!”
The boys laughed.
“When do you have to go to Aunty’s?” asked Chub.
“I don’t know exactly,” Harry replied. “She hasn’t said anything about
it yet, but usually I go the first of July and stay two or three weeks;
once I had to stay a month--papa and mama went to the mountains.”
“Well, we couldn’t go into camp until about the first,” said Chub; “and
then, if you only stayed two weeks with Aunty, you could be here a
whole fortnight before we left.”
Harry brightened perceptibly. “That’s so,” she cried. “I’ll ask mama
if I’ll have to stay more than two weeks. Wouldn’t that be lovely? We
could have the dandiest times, couldn’t we?”
“I don’t believe your mother would let you stay on the island at night,
though,” said Roy.
“Well, but I could go over real early in the morning and have breakfast
with you, and stay all day. I could do the cooking for you! I can cook
real well. I can make doughnuts and vanilla cookies and cheese-straws
and--”
“Can you fry eggs?” asked Chub anxiously.
“Of course, stupid! Any one can do that!”
“All right, Harry, consider yourself engaged. There’s nothing like a
few eggs to begin a hard day’s work on.”
“I want mine scrambled,” said Dick. “Can you do that, Harry?”
“Yes; you just put some milk with the eggs and stir them all up nice
and messy with a silver knife,” replied Harry.
“You’ll have to bring your own knife,” laughed Roy. “We’ll use tin
ones, I guess. As for me, though, I have to have my eggs in an omelet,
Harry. How are you at omelets?”
Harry looked troubled, failing to see the smile which quivered around
the corners of Roy’s mouth.
“I--I’m afraid I can’t make an omelet, Roy,” she said dejectedly.
“You see, they always get burned on the bottom; and then I never can
flop them over. You know they have to be flopped over?” Roy nodded
sympathetically.
“I always flop them before I cook them,” said Chub sententiously.
“How can you?” asked Harry, indignantly. “I never heard of anything
so--so--”
“Why, you--er--you seize the egg between the thumb and first finger,”
answered Chub, frowning intensely as though striving to recollect the
process. “Then you slowly exert sufficient pressure to choke it to
death. When nicely choked--”
Just here Dick pushed him off the steps.
“Isn’t he the silliest thing?” asked Harry. And then, returning to the
subject of omelets: “But I could get mama to show me how, Roy.”
“What I want to know is,” said Chub as he crawled back up the steps,
“is where all the eggs are coming from. I can eat three myself when I’m
in camp, and you know what an appetite Dickums has!”
“We’ll hire a hen,” suggested Roy.
“We have lots of eggs,” said Harry. “I’ll bring some over every
morning.”
“And a few doughnuts,” begged Chub. “That’s the ideal breakfast: three
or four fried eggs, and half a dozen doughnuts, and a cup of coffee.
Um-m! Gee, fellows, I wish my dad would say yes!”
“Maybe he will. Let’s throw our thought on him,” said Roy.
“You’d better not let him catch you at it,” said Chub with a grin.
“Say, there goes Billy Warren. Let’s call him over and get him to show
us his sunstroke.”
“Thomas Eaton, you’re too foolish for anything, to-day!” declared
Harry, severely. “And it’s mean of you to make fun of Billy. He feels
terribly bad about losing the race.”
“I’m not making fun of him,” denied Chub, indignantly. “The idea! Only
if I had a sunstroke I’d be proud to show it around! I’d be pleased
purple if fellows would ask me--”
“I’ll bet a dollar that’s what’s the matter with you,” laughed Dick.
“It’s affected your brain.”
“Pretty smart sun if it found Chub’s brain,” added Roy.
“Enjoy yourselves,” said Chub, cheerfully. “Get into the game,
Harry; find your little hammer! Here, there’s a monotony about this
conversation that wearies me. I’m going out in the canoe. Anybody want
to come along?”
“Me!” cried Harry, jumping up.
“You’d better not,” counseled Roy. “He will make you do all the work,
Harry.”
“Pay no attention to him,” said Chub to Harry, confidentially. “I hate
to say it about a friend, Harry, but he’s never been the same since he
made that two-bagger the other day. It’s affected his brain. Let us
leave them to their own foolish devices.”
He and Harry went off together along the path toward the Grove, and Roy
and Dick watched them in smiling silence until they had disappeared
through the hedge gate. Then,
“I wonder if his father will turn him down,” said Dick.
“I’m afraid so,” answered Roy as he arose, “but we will know all about
it by Thursday. There’s time for a couple of sets of tennis before
supper. Want to play? I’ll give you fifteen.”
Dick agreed, and they walked over to the dormitory to get their rackets.
Wednesday and Thursday were given over to the ceremonies of graduation.
Wednesday was Class-Day, and Thursday Graduate’s Day. The school had
taken on festal attire. John the gardener and general factotum had
been busy for a week past raking the walks, clipping the hedges and
trimming the borders until when the first influx of guests began on
Wednesday morning the grounds were looking their best. The gymnasium
was draped inside with flags and bunting and decorated outside with
Japanese lanterns. School Hall became suddenly a bower of palms and
other things in pots or tubs which looked like palms but were really
something quite different with far more unpronounceable names. On
Wednesday morning there was the Tennis Tournament, won by Chase of
the Second Middle Class. In the afternoon the corner-stone of the new
dormitory was laid with appropriate ceremonies, and there was a spread
under the trees. In the evening the Silver Cove Band, much augmented
for the occasion, gave a concert in front of the gymnasium.
The graduation exercises took place the next morning in School Hall
before a flatteringly attentive and applausive audience. There was
an oration by Augustus Prince Pryor on “Opportunity and the Man”;
there was an essay by Edgar Whitcomb entitled “The Exploration of the
Northwest”; there was a declamation by William Truscott Warren called
“Napoleon the Man”; there was a thesis by Howard C. Glidden on “Science
and Progress”; there was a narration by Thomas H. Eaton entitled “The
Pilgrims,” and an oration on “Destiny” by Roy Porter. Then came the
awarding of diplomas to the graduates, in number a round dozen, and the
audience dispersed in search of dinner. Both Roy and Chub had graduated
with honors, and if, on that one day, they held their heads a little
bit higher than usual and looked a little bit more dignified, why,
surely, they may be excused. Dick pretended to be much impressed, and
always saluted whenever he met them. This went on until just before
supper, when Chub’s patience became exhausted and he forgot his dignity
and chased Dick twice around School Hall, finally capturing his quarry
in a corner and administering punishment. In the evening there was a
grand ball in the gymnasium to which came many Silver Cove folks and
at which Harry, in a pink muslin party dress, danced to her heart’s
content. And the next day came the exodus.
But Thursday morning’s mail had brought Chub his letter and the tenor
of it had pleased him even more than it had surprised him; and that
is saying much; for Mr. Eaton had written that the plan suggested met
with his unqualified approval, and intimated broadly that it must have
originated with some one other than Chub because of its reasonableness.
“Sounds like a knock,” said Roy as he read the letter.
“Oh, he always has his hammer handy,” laughed Chub. “But I don’t care;
he’s given permission, and that’s what I wanted. Say, won’t it be
great? Let’s find Dick and tell him.”
So they did, and Dick was overjoyed. Roy had already heard from home,
and his mother had agreed, although less enthusiastically than Chub’s
father, to his remaining at Ferry Hill for the month of camp life. As
for Dick, well, Dick merely took permission for granted, for it would
be all of two weeks before a reply could reach him from London. When
the letter finally did come it was all that he had wished. In substance
it told him to please himself, adding that it was quite within the
possibilities that the writer would return home for a short visit about
the middle of the summer, in which case it wouldn’t really be worth
Dick’s while to cross to England now.
So when, Friday morning, bright and early, Chub and Roy piled into the
carriage with their suit cases, Dick said good-by and watched them
disappear in the direction of Silver Cove and the railroad station
with perfect equanimity; for four or five days at the most would see
them both back again. Naturally enough, though, Dick found existence
strangely quiet at first. By Friday evening the last boy had departed
homeward, and an uncanny stillness held the campus.
At Mrs. Emery’s invitation Dick moved his belongings over to the
guest-room at the Cottage, for the dormitories were to be given over on
the morrow to the regular summer cleaning, and then subsequently closed
until fall. Harry, too, was somewhat depressed, and she and Dick made
the most of each other’s society. There were walks and little trips
on the river and a good deal of tennis, a game which Dick was rapidly
learning. Harry was an excellent player, and by the time Roy and Chub
returned Dick, under her tuition, had vastly improved his game.
[Illustration: “In the evening there was a grand ball”]
Living at the Cottage was very pleasant. Now that school was over with
Doctor Emery doffed his immaculate black clothes and appeared in faded
negligée shirts and patched knickerbockers. At the table he was quite
often the more flippant and irresponsible of the four, and Mrs. Emery
frequently remonstrated laughingly, telling him that Dick would report
his actions, and that when autumn came he would find his authority
departed. Whereupon the Doctor swore Dick to secrecy, and Harry naïvely
remarked that she never could see why any one was afraid of her father,
anyhow. One day there was a notable event on the tennis-court when
Harry played against her father and Dick, and won two sets out of
three. When nothing better offered Dick and Harry got into a boat or a
canoe and went over to Fox Island and picked out the site for the camp.
By the time that Roy and Chub got back they had speculatively pitched
that camp on almost every foot of the island.
But the most exciting event that occurred was the receipt of an
apologetic letter from Harry’s Aunt Harriet Beverly. It seemed that
Aunt Harriet had decided almost at a moment’s notice to go abroad with
a party of friends, and they were to sail on the tenth of July. Under
the circumstances, she explained, it would be necessary for Harry to
postpone her visit until late in the summer. She hoped that the dear
child would not be very greatly disappointed. The dear child waved the
letter over her head and howled with glee.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” she cried. “Isn’t it perfectly dandy? Now I can
go to camp with you. It’s just like things that happen in books. Mama,
I may, mayn’t I?”
“Goodness, child!” exclaimed her mother. “You may what? What’s all this
noise about?”
“Camp out with Roy and Chub and Dick on the island! I may, mayn’t I?
You know you said--”
“Well, I’m surely not going to let you sleep on the island, my dear, if
that’s what you mean. You’d catch your death of cold.”
“Not to speak of the likelihood of being devoured alive by bears,”
added the Doctor as he joined them on the porch.
“Bears!” scoffed Harry. “I don’t suppose there’s even a rabbit on the
island! And, mama dear, folks never catch cold in camps.”
“Well, I think it will do, Harry, if you go over and visit the boys in
the daytime. Besides, maybe they had rather be alone, my dear.”
“But they wouldn’t! Would you, Dick?”
“No,” answered Dick promptly. “We’d like Harry to join us if you will
let her, Mrs. Emery.”
“And I’m going to cook for them--sometimes!” exclaimed Harry, eagerly,
“and you’re going to teach me how to make an omelet, mama, because
Roy has to have omelet for his breakfast. And I’m going to mend their
clothing for them, too. I--I don’t believe they could do without me.”
And Harry gazed anxiously from Dick to her mother. Dick asserted
stoutly that it would be simply impossible and Mrs. Emery consented to
Harry’s joining the campers by day. After that it was all arranged
very quickly by Harry. One of the boys was to row over every morning to
the landing, very, very early, and get her, since she was not allowed
to go in a boat by herself, and she was to take over doughnuts and
cookies, and--and a great many things!
The Doctor had readily consented to the use of one of the school tents
and such things as they needed, so when, late one afternoon, Roy and
Chub arrived triumphant from the ordeal of preliminary examinations at
college, everything was in readiness for the occupation of the island.