A SERIOUS ACCUSATION
“Hey, Jack, where were you Saturday?” asked Tom Berwick, as our hero
came into the school yard Monday morning. “We had a dandy game,” he
went on. “Your catching glove is nifty!”
“Yes, Fred Walton played short,” added Sam Morton. “We waited as long
as we could for you. What was the matter?”
“The professor made me stay home because I skipped out the night before
to go to the show.”
“Say, he’s a mean old codger,” was Tom’s opinion, which was echoed by
several other lads.
“Is Fred going to play shortstop regularly?” asked Jack, of Tom
Berwick, who was captain of the Academy nine.
“I don’t know. He wants to, but I’d like to have you play there, Jack.
Still, if you can’t come Saturdays----”
“Oh, I’ll come next Saturday all right. Can’t we have a little practice
this afternoon?”
“Sure. You can play then, if you want to. Fred has to go away, he said.”
The boys had a lively impromptu contest on the diamond when school
closed that afternoon, and Jack proved himself an efficient player at
shortstop. It was getting dusk when he reached the professor’s house,
and the doughty old college instructor was waiting for him.
“Did I not tell you to come home early, in order that I might test you
in algebra?” he asked Jack.
“Yes, sir. But I forgot about it,” which was the truth for, in the
excitement over the game, Jack had no mind for anything but baseball.
“Where were you?” went on Mr. Klopper.
“Playing ball.”
“Playing ball! An idle, frivolous amusement. It tends to no good, and
does positive harm. I have no sympathy with that game. It gives no time
for reflection. I once watched a game at the college where I used to
teach. I saw several men standing at quite some distance from the bare
spot where one man was throwing a ball at another, with a stick in his
hand.”
“That was the diamond,” volunteered Jack, hoping the professor might
get interested in hearing about the game, and so forego the lecture
that was in prospect.
“Ah, a very inappropriate name. Such an utterly valueless game should
not be designated by any such expensive stone as a diamond. But what I
was going to say was that I saw some of the players standing quite some
distance from the bare spot----”
“They were in the outfield, professor. Right field, left field and
centre.”
“One moment; I care nothing about the names of the contestants. I was
about to remark that those distant players seemed to have little to do
with the game. They might, most profitably have had a book with them,
to study while they were standing there, but they did not. Instead they
remained idle--wasting their time.”
“But they might have had to catch a ball any moment.”
“Nonsense!” exclaimed the professor. “It is an idle frivolous
amusement, and I regret very much that you wasted your valuable time
over it. After supper I want to hear you read some Virgil, and also do
some problems in geometry. I was instructed by your father to see that
your education was not neglected, and I must do my duty, no matter how
disagreeable it is.”
Jack sighed. He had studied hard in class that day, and now to be made
to put in the evening over his books he thought was very unfair.
But there was no escape from the professor, and the boy had to put in
two hours at his Latin and mathematics, which studies, though they
undoubtedly did him good, were very distasteful to him.
“You are making scarcely any progress,” said the professor, when Jack
had failed to properly answer several of his questions. “I want you to
come home early from school to-morrow afternoon, and I will give you
my undivided attention until bedtime. I am determined that you shall
learn.”
Jack said nothing, but he did not think it would be wise to go off
playing ball the next afternoon, though the boys urged him strongly.
“Why don’t you write and tell your dad how mean old Klopper is treating
you?” suggested Tom, when Jack explained the reason for going straight
home from his classes.
“I would if I knew how to reach him. But I don’t know where he is,”
and Jack sighed, for he was becoming more and more alarmed at the long
delay in hearing from his father.
But Jack was destined to do no studying that afternoon under the
watchful eye of Professor Klopper. He had no sooner entered the house
than he was made aware that something unusual had happened.
“My brother is waiting for you in the library,” said Miss Klopper, and
Jack noticed that she was excited over something.
“Maybe it’s bad news about the folks,” the boy thought, but when he
saw that the professor had no cablegram, he decided it could not be
that.
“Jack,” began the aged teacher, “I have a very serious matter to speak
about.”
“I wonder what’s coming now?” thought the boy.
“Do you recall the night you disobeyed me, and, sneaking out of your
window like a thief, you went to a--er--a theatrical performance
without my permission?” asked the professor.
“Yes, sir,” replied Jack, wondering if his guardian thought he was
likely to forget it so soon.
“Do you also recollect me asking you where you got the money wherewith
to go?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I now, once more, demand that you tell me where you obtained it, and,
let me warn you that it is serious. I insist that you answer me. Where
did you get that money?”
“I--I don’t want to tell you, Professor Klopper.”
“Are you afraid?”
“No, sir,” came the indignant answer, for there were few things of
which Jack Allen was afraid.
“Then why don’t you tell me?”
“Because I don’t think you have a right to know everything that I do. I
am not a baby. I assure you I got that money in a perfectly legitimate
way.”
“Oh, you did?” sneered the professor. “We shall see about that. Come
in,” he called, and, to Jack’s surprise the door opened and Miss
Klopper entered the library.
“I believe you have something to say on a subject that interests all
present,” went on the professor, in icy tones.
“She knows nothing of where I got the money,” said Jack.
“We shall see,” remarked Mr. Klopper. “You may tell what you know,” he
added to his sister.
“I saw Jack just as he got down out of his window,” Miss Klopper
stated, as if she was reciting a lesson. “He had a bundle with him. I
asked what it was and he would not tell me.”
“Is that correct?” inquired the former teacher.
“Yes, sir,” replied Jack, wondering how the professor could be
interested in his catching glove, which was what the bundle had
contained.
“What was in that package?” went on the professor.
“I--I don’t care to tell, sir.”
“I insist that you shall. Once again, I warn you that it is a very
serious matter.”
Jack could not quite understand why, so he kept silent.
“Well, are you going to tell me?”
“No, sir.”
Jack had no particular reason for not telling, but he had made up his
mind that the professor had no right to know, and he was not going to
give in to him.
“This is your last chance,” warned his guardian. “Are you going to tell
me?”
“No, sir.”
“Then I will tell you what was in that package. It was my gold loving
cup, that the teachers of Underhill College presented to me on the
occasion of my retirement from the faculty of that institution!”
“Your loving cup?” repeated Jack in amazement, for that cup was one of
the professor’s choicest possessions, and quite valuable.
“Yes, my loving cup. You had it in that bundle, and you took it out to
pawn it, in order to get money to go to that show.”
“That’s not true!” cried Jack indignantly. “All I had in that bundle
was my catching glove, which I sold to Tom Berwick.”
“I don’t believe you,” said the professor stiffly. “I say you stole my
loving cup and pawned it. The cup is gone from its accustomed place on
my dresser. I did not miss it until this afternoon, and, when I asked
my sister about it, she said she had not seen it. Then she recalled
your sneaking away from the house with a bundle, and I at once knew
what had become of it.”
[Illustration: “I say you took my cup!”
_Page 41_]
“You couldn’t know, for there is absolutely no truth in this
accusation,” replied Jack hotly.
“Do you mean to say that I am telling an untruth?” asked the professor
sharply. “I say that you took my cup.”
“And I say that I didn’t! I never touched your cup! If it’s gone some
one else took it!”
Jack spoke in loud and excited tones.
“Don’t you dare contradict me, young man!” thundered the former
teacher. “I will not permit it. I say you took that cup! I know you
did!”
“I didn’t!” cried Jack.
The professor was so angry that he took a step toward the lad. He
raised his hand, probably unconsciously, as though to deal Jack a
box on the ear, for this was the old teacher’s favorite method of
correcting a refractory student.
Jack, with the instinct of a lad who will assume a defensive attitude
on the first sign of an attack, doubled up his fists.
“What! You dare attempt to strike me?” cried the professor. “You dare?”
“I’m not going to have you hit me,” murmured Jack. “You are making an
unjust charge. I never took that cup. I can prove what I had in that
package by Tom Berwick.”
“I do not believe you,” went on the professor. “I know you pawned that
cup to get spending money, because I refused to give you any to waste.
I will give you a chance to confess, and tell me where you disposed of
it, before I take harsh measures.”
Jack started. What did the professor mean by harsh measures?
“I can’t confess what I did not do,” he said, more quietly. “I never
took the loving cup.”
“And I say you did!” cried the old teacher, seeming to lose control of
himself. “I say you stole it, and I’ll have you arrested, you young
rascal! Go to your room at once, and remain there until I get an
officer. We’ll see then whether you’ll confess or not. I’ll call in a
policeman at once. See that he does not leave the house,” he added to
his sister, as he hurried from the room.
Jack started from the library.
“Where are you going?” asked Miss Klopper, placing herself in his path.
She was a large woman, and strong.
“I am going to my room,” replied Jack, sore at heart and very miserable
over the unjust accusation.