DISQUIETING NEWS
“Well, if this ain’t the meanest thing he’s done to me yet!” exclaimed
Jack, as the door closed on the retreating form of his crusty guardian.
“This is the limit! The boys expect me to the ball game, and I can’t
get there. That means they’ll put somebody else in my place, and maybe
I’ll have to be a substitute for the rest of the season. I’ve a good
notion----”
But so many daring thoughts came into Jack’s mind that he did not know
which one to give utterance to first.
“I’ll not stand it,” he declared. “He hasn’t any right to punish me
like this, for what I did. He had no right to keep me in. I’ll get out
the same way I did before.”
Jack looked from the window of his room. Below it, seated on a bench,
in the shade of a tree, was the professor, reading a large book.
“That way’s blocked,” remarked the boy. “He’ll stay there all day,
working out problems about how much a dollar will amount to if put out
at interest for a thousand years, or else figuring how long it will
take a man to get to Mars if he traveled at the rate of a thousand
miles a minute, though what in the world good such knowledge is I can’t
see.
“But I can’t get out while he’s on guard, for he wouldn’t hesitate to
wallop me. And when he comes in to breakfast his sister will relieve
him. I am certainly up against it!
“Hold on, though! Maybe he forgot to bolt the door!”
It was a vain hope. Though Jack had not heard him do it, the professor
had softly slid the bolt across as he went out of the boy’s room, and
our hero was practically a prisoner in his own apartment.
And this on a beautiful Saturday, when there was no school and when the
first practice baseball game of the season was to be played. Is it any
wonder that Jack was indignant?
“It’s about time they brought me something to eat,” he thought, as he
heard a clock somewhere in the house strike nine. “I’m getting hungry.”
He had little fear on the score that the professor would starve him,
for the old college instructor was not quite as mean as that, and,
in a short time, Miss Klopper appeared with a tray containing Jack’s
breakfast.
“I should think you would be ashamed of yourself,” she said. “The idea
of repaying my brother’s kindness by such acts! You are a wicked boy!”
Jack wondered where any special kindness on the part of the professor
came in, but he did not say anything to the old maid whose temper was
even more sour than her brother’s. Since his parents had left him
with the professor, Jack had never been treated with real kindness.
Perhaps Mr. Klopper did not intend to be mean, but he was such a deep
student that all who did not devote most of their time to study and
research earned his profound contempt. While Jack was a good boy, and a
fairly good student, he liked sports and fun, and these the professor
detested. So, when he found that his ward did not intend to apply
himself closely to his books, Professor Klopper began “putting the
screws on,” as Jack termed it.
Matters had gone from bad to worse, until the boy was now in a really
desperate state. His naturally good temper had been spoiled by a
series of petty fault-findings, and he had been so hedged about by the
professor and his sister that he was ripe for almost anything.
All that day he remained in his room, becoming more and more angry at
his imprisonment as the hours passed.
“The boys are on the diamond now,” he said, as he heard a clock strike
three. “They’re practicing, and soon the game will start. Gee, but I
wish I was there! But it’s no use.”
Another try at the door, and a look out of his window convinced him of
this. The professor was still on guard, reading his big book.
Toward dusk the professor went in, as he could see no longer. But, by
that time Jack had lost all desire to escape. He resolved to go to bed,
to make the time pass more quickly, though he knew he had another day
of imprisonment before him. Sunday was the occasion for long rambles
in the woods and fields with his chums, but he knew he would have to
forego that pleasure now. He almost hoped it would rain.
As he was undressing there came a hurried knock on his door.
“What is it?” he asked.
“My brother wants to see you at once, in his study,” said Miss Klopper.
“Oh, dear,” thought Jack. “Here’s for another lecture.”
There was no choice but to obey, however, for Mr. Allen in his last
injunction to his son, had urged him to give every heed to his
guardian’s requests.
He found the professor in his study, with open books piled all about on
a table before which he sat. In his hand Mr. Klopper held a white slip
of paper.
“Jack,” he said, more kindly than he had spoken since the trouble
between them, “I have here a telegram concerning your father and
mother.”
“Is it--is it bad news?” asked the boy quickly, for something in the
professor’s tone and manner indicated it.
“Well, I--er--I’m sorry to say it is not good news. It is rather
disquieting. You remember I told you I cabled to the United States
Consul in Hong Kong concerning your parents, when several days went by
without either of us hearing from them.”
“What does he say?”
“His cablegram states that your parents went on an excursion outside of
Hong Kong about two weeks ago, and no word has been received from them
since.”
“Are they--are they killed?”
“No; I do not think so. The consul adds that as there have been
disturbances in China, it is very likely that Mr. and Mrs. Allen,
together with some other Americans, have been detained in a friendly
province, until the trouble is over. I thought you had better know
this.”
“Do you suppose there is any danger?”
“I do not think so. There is no use worrying, though I was a little
anxious when I had no word from them. We will hope for the best. I
will cable the consul to send me word as soon as he has any additional
news.”
“Poor mother!” said Jack. “She’s nervous, and if she gets frightened it
may have a bad effect on her heart.”
“Um,” remarked the professor. He had little sympathy for ailing women.
“In view of this news I have decided to mitigate your punishment,” he
added to Jack. “You may consider yourself at liberty to-morrow, though
I shall expect you to spend at least three hours in reading some good
and helpful book. I will pick one out for you. It is well to train our
minds to deep reading, for there is so much of the frivolous in life
now-a-days, that the young are very likely to form improper thinking
habits. I would recommend that you spend an hour before you retire
to-night, in improving yourself in Latin. Your conjugation of verbs was
very weak the last time I examined you.”
“I--I don’t think I could study to-night,” said Jack, who felt quite
miserable with his enforced detention in the house, and the unpleasant
news concerning his parents. “I’d be thinking so much about my father
and mother that I couldn’t keep my attention on the verbs,” he said.
“That indicates a weak intellect,” returned the professor. “You should
labor to overcome it. However, perhaps it would be useless to have
you do any Latin to-night. But I must insist on you improving in your
studies. Your last report from the academy was very poor.”
Jack did not answer. With a heavy heart he went to his room, where he
sat for some time in the dark, thinking of his parents in far-off China.
“I wish I could go and find them,” he said. “Maybe they need help. I
wonder if the professor’d let me go?”
But, even as that idea came to him, he knew it would be useless to
propose it to Mr. Klopper.
“He’s got enough of money that dad left for my keep, to pay my
passage,” the boy mused on. “But if I asked for some for a steamship
ticket he’d begin to figure what the interest on it for a hundred years
would be, and then he’d lecture me about being a spendthrift. No, I’ll
have to let it go, though I do wish I could make a trip abroad. If I
could only earn money enough, some way, I’d go to China and find dad
and mom.”
But even disquieting and sad thoughts can not long keep awake a healthy
lad, and soon Jack was slumbering. He was up early the next morning,
and, as usual, accompanied the professor to church.
The best part of the afternoon he was forced to spend in reading a book
on what boys ought to do, written by an old man who, if ever he was a
healthy, sport-loving lad, must have been one so many years ago that
he forgot that he ever liked to have fun once in a while.
Jack was glad when night came, so he could go to bed again.
“To-morrow I’ll see the boys,” he thought to himself. “They’ll want to
know why I didn’t come to play ball, and I’ll have to tell them the
real reason. I’m getting so I hate Professor Klopper!”
If Jack had known what was to happen the next day, he probably would
not have slept so soundly.