THE SCHOLARSHIP AWARDS
At Yardley you were supposed to get up at seven. Breakfast was at
seven-thirty. You were allowed, however, a half-hour’s leeway. That is,
you could gain admittance to commons as late as one minute to eight,
but whether you found anything left to eat was quite another question.
At half-past eight came chapel, and while you might with impunity
miss breakfast occasionally, being absent from chapel constituted a
dereliction resulting in a visit to the Office. Chapel was held in the
assembly hall on the third floor of Oxford. There had been a time, when
the founder and first Principal, Doctor Hewitt, had been alive, when
chapel had occurred at half-past seven, but nowadays one fortified
oneself with food before the morning services.
On this Saturday morning Toby, who was so accustomed to early rising
that it was a veritable hardship to lie in bed after seven, finished
breakfast before eight and was out of the hall before Arnold appeared.
Usually he waited for the latter and they crossed to Oxford together;
and sometimes Homer Wilkins, by Herculean effort, managed to go
along. But this morning Arnold had not returned to his room when Toby
clattered downstairs again. Nor was he anywhere in sight. So Toby set
out for chapel alone. Probably Arnold would be waiting for him in the
corridor in Oxford. It wasn’t a morning when one would linger around
out of doors, for the mercury was hovering about zero and an icy wind
was blowing across the Prospect, cracking the flag and bending the top
of the tall mast. Toby dug his hands into his pockets and scurried. The
bell began to ring as he reached the steps. Inside, a crowd of boys
who had lingered till the last moment, surged toward the stairs, and
Toby was caught up and borne along. As a consequence, he did not find
Arnold, and when he was seated on one of the old knife-scarred benches
he was hedged in between two fellows whom he only knew by sight. Doctor
Collins, the Principal, stepped to the rostrum, silence descended over
the room and the Doctor’s pleasant voice began the reading.
“‘Hearken to me, ye that follow after righteousness, ye that seek the
Lord: look unto the rock whence ye are hewn, and to the hole of the pit
whence ye are digged.’”
Toby, as he listened, glanced furtively around for sight of Arnold. He
had wanted particularly to see him this morning and ask him when and
where the scholarship announcements would be made. Toby presumed that
a list would be posted on the notice board downstairs, but a hurried
examination of the board as he had been swept past had revealed nothing
that looked as portentous. Probably the list would be posted later.
Toby wondered if he would have the courage to read it! Meanwhile there
was no sign of Arnold and Toby concluded that he had arrived late and
slipped into a seat near the door.
“‘But I will put it into the hand of them that afflict thee; which have
said to thy soul, Bow down, that we may go over: and thou hast laid thy
body as the ground, and as the street, to them that went over.’”
Dr. Collins ceased and closed the Bible. There was a moment’s pause and
the subdued shuffling of feet and moving of bodies. Then came silence
again and the invocation and, at the last, the Lord’s Prayer, the boys
reciting together. Toby always liked to hear that. It sounded to him
like the boom of the sea back home, and thrilled him. When heads were
lifted once more, he became conscious of an undercurrent of excitement,
of suspense. The hall was unusually still. The boy on his right, a
thin, earnest-looking youth with a pair of eye-glasses set on the ridge
of a long nose, sat up straighter and more tensely, and Toby thought
he breathed faster than was natural. Toby didn’t recall the fellow’s
name, but they had several recitations in common. In front of him two
boys were whispering together, but so softly that he could hear no
sound. On the platform Doctor Collins was turning the papers in his
hands, and, presently, having sorted them to his liking, he began the
announcements. Three students were summoned to the Office; notice was
given of a lecture on Stevenson next Tuesday evening at eight; a course
in Bible History open to First and Second Class students would begin
Monday; those desiring to join would give their names to Mr. Thurman;
until further notice, the library would be kept open until ten o’clock
at night, in response to a number of requests. Doctor Collins laid
these notices on the desk, cleared his throat and began again. Toby
heard the boy on his right take a long breath.
“In assigning scholarships,” began Dr. Collins, “the Faculty judges
the merits of the applicants, as you doubtless know, on three grounds:
scholarship, character and pecuniary need. At present the School has at
its disposal twenty-six endowed scholarships, and for the current year
they have been assigned as follows.”
Toby’s heart was doing queer things between his stomach and his throat.
He wondered if the others were as surprised as he. Then he realized
that every one else had known the announcements would be made here and
now; that the under-current of excitement of which he had been dimly
aware had been due to that knowledge. He plunged his hands into his
pockets and doubled his fists tightly. He, too, was breathing hard and
fast now. His thoughts were horribly jumbled, and he wondered where
Arnold was, wished he was here, was glad he wasn’t, told himself he had
absolutely no chance for a scholarship, hoped frantically that he had,
and all in the small fraction of time that lapsed while Doctor Collins
settled his glasses more firmly.
“As your names are mentioned, you will kindly stand,” continued the
Principal. “To members of the First Class: Barton Scholarships of one
hundred and twenty-five dollars to William George Phinney, Clark’s
Mills, Rhode Island; David Fearson Caldwell, New York City; Jasper
Haynes, Plainfield, New Jersey; Patrick Dennis Conlon, Bridgeport,
Connecticut. Sinclair Scholarships of one hundred dollars to Phillip
Studley Meyer, Belfast, Maine; William Patterson Byron, Newark, New
Jersey. Elliot Percival Dwight Scholarships of eighty dollars to
Howard Dana Jones, Englewood, Illinois; Horace Newcomb, Greenburg,
Connecticut. The Yardley Hall Scholarship of sixty dollars to Newton
Scott McDonough, Wilmington, Delaware.”
As each name was announced, somewhere in the hall an embarrassed youth
arose and a salvo of clapping greeted him. Toby clapped as hard as any.
It sort of took his mind off the question that was jumping around in
his brain. The nine youths remained standing until the applause, long
continued and hearty, died down. Then:
“You may be seated,” said the Doctor. “To members of the Second
Class――” Toby listened, but only half heard. When a boy stood up he
clapped hard. When a laugh started and rippled around the hall, he
laughed too, a trifle hysterically, but didn’t know what at. The
Second Class recipients sat down and the Doctor began on the Third
Class awards. There were but six of these. Toby only knew one of the
fortunate fellows, Mark Flagg, who played point with the first hockey
squad. The clapping went on and on. Toby wished one instant that it
would cease and the next that it would continue. Then it died away,
Doctor Collins nodded and the boys sank back gladly out of sight. Toby
clenched his hands again, set his countenance in a vacuous stare and
held his breath.
“To members of the Fourth Class:” began the fateful voice. “Ripley
Scholarships of sixty dollars to Gordon Pitman Wells, Cincinnati,
Ohio――”
At the far side of the assembly hall there was a scraping of feet. The
clapping broke forth afresh. Toby didn’t join this time, nor did he
look around. He was too busy keeping his eyes on the back of the head
of the boy in front of him, and, besides, it is doubtful if he could
have unclenched his hands just then.
“――John Booth Garman, Fitchburg, Massachusetts――”
The boy at Toby’s right got slowly to his feet. Toby stole a look at
his face. He was rather red and very embarrassed and there was a little
crooked smile twisting one side of his mouth. Toby’s gaze fell to
Garman’s hand which hung by his side. The long fingers were doubling
back and forth nervously. Toby felt for Garman, wanted to tell him he
was glad. Then, the applause lessening, he strained his ears again. Not
that the crucial moment was yet, for he had no hopes of a Ripley now,
nor much hope of anything. He wished it was all over! Doctor Collins
seized the moment’s calm:
“Tobias Tucker, Greenhaven, New York!”
Something inside of Toby turned a complete somersault. Perhaps it
was his heart, but it didn’t feel like it. His gaze went startledly,
incredulously from the exact middle of the head in front of him to
Doctor Collins’ face. Some one was shoving him from behind and a voice
hissed over his shoulder: “_Stand up, you chump!_” Toby climbed
dazedly to his feet. If it was a mistake, he told himself hollowly, he
would feel like an awful fool! But there didn’t seem to be any mistake.
Every one was clapping enthusiastically and he saw, or seemed to see,
about a million faces smiling at him. His thoughts, as he held onto the
back of the bench in front, were horribly confused while the applause
lasted. After that, when the Doctor announced the recipients of the
three Haynes Scholarships, and the school’s attention was shifted from
him, he found himself mentally deducting sixty from one hundred and
twenty-five and arriving at the joyful if slightly erroneous result of
sixty. Why, his tuition bill for the rest of the year would be only ten
dollars! (Afterwards he found that it would be fifteen, but he managed
to survive the shock!) So busy was he dwelling on the beatitude of this
thought that he didn’t see Doctor Collins nod nor observe the fact that
the other five fellows had seated themselves again, and only became
alive to his hideous conspicuousness when Garman tugged at his coat. He
sank back onto the bench blushing, but still happy.
After that there was a short congratulatory address by the Principal
and then they all stood up again and sang a hymn. Or, at least, most of
them sang. Toby didn’t. But then his heart was singing, and maybe that
was enough. When the final note had died away Doctor Collins gave the
word of dismissal and a quiet and orderly exodus began which turned,
outside the doors, into a stampede. Toby, however, went slowly, the
better to enjoy his pleasant thoughts, until some one linked an arm in
his and dragged him helter-skelter down the remaining flight.
“Hurray, T. Tucker! Didn’t I tell you you’d do it? It’s great, and I’m
tickled to death, Toby!”
Of course it was Arnold, Arnold laughing and eager to show his delight
by risking his neck in a final mad plunge down the crowded staircase.
Toby brought up at the bottom breathless and shaken and leaned against
the wall. “Wh-where were you?” he gasped. “I looked all around for you.”
“I waited for Homer and we were late and just got in by the skin of our
teeth. Didn’t you see me waving to you when you stood up? Gee, but I’m
glad you got a Ripley, Toby. I was afraid it might be only a Haynes.”
“I was afraid it might be only nothing,” laughed Toby. “I was so
surprised when Doc said my name that I guess I’d be sitting there yet
if some fellow hadn’t shoved me and told me to stand up! I don’t see
now how I happened to do it. I made an awful mess of math for a while,
and then in November I had trouble with Coby about Latin. I don’t see――”
“Oh, never mind what you don’t see,” interrupted Arnold gayly. “You got
it. That’s enough, isn’t it? Come on over and chin awhile.”
“What time is it? I can’t. I’ve got English at nine. But, gee, I won’t
know a thing, I guess!”
“All right, then, I’ll see you at eleven. I’m awfully glad, Toby. You
deserved it, too. Every one says that. Lots of fellows were as pleased
as anything when Doc announced your name. I guess you got as much
clapping as any of them!”
“Did I?” asked Toby in surprise. “Why, I didn’t suppose many fellows
knew anything about me! I guess――I guess you’re just jollying!”
“Honest, I’m not! Lots of fellows around where I was sitting nearly
clapped their old hands off for you, and four or five said afterwards
that they were mighty glad you’d copped it. So long! Come up to the
room at eleven, eh?”
Toby nodded and turned back toward the entrance to Oxford. It seemed
strange, even incredible, that any one should have cared whether he won
that scholarship. But it was mighty nice. It made things even better.
He hadn’t supposed that he had any friends in school beside Arnold
and, perhaps, a couple of chaps in his own class who had been more or
less chummy at times. Well, he would just have to show them and Doctor
Collins and――and every one that he really deserved it. He would study
as hard as anything and maybe――well, it was only a chance, but _maybe_,
he’d finish in June an Honor Man! Rather a stupendous dream, that, but
Toby was feeling stupendous this morning!