THE GOODWIN SCHOLARSHIP.
"But how did it all happen?" asked Outfield West breathlessly.
He had just entered and was seated on the edge of the bed whereon Joel
lay propped up eating his Thanksgiving dinner from a tray. It was seven
o'clock in the evening, and Dickey Sproule was not yet back. The yard
was noisy with the shouts of lads returning from the dining hall, and an
occasional cheer floated up, an echo of the afternoon's event. Joel
moved a dish of pudding away from Outfield's elbow as he answered
between mouthfuls of turkey:
"I was up here studying at the table there when I heard some one coming
up stairs two steps at a time. It was Clausen. He threw open the door
and cried: 'They're winning, March, they're winning! Come quick! Remsen
says we can tie them if you play. It's all right, March. We'll go to the
office and I'll tell everything. Only come, hurry!' Well, of course I
thought first he was crazy. Then I guessed what was up, because I knew
that Eustace had scored--"
"You couldn't have known; you were studying."
"Well, I--I wasn't studying all the time, Out. So up I jumped, and we
raced over to the office and found Professor Wheeler there asleep on the
leather couch under the window. 'It was Cloud and I, sir, that cut the
rope!' said Clausen. 'I'm very sorry, sir, and I'll take the punishment
and glad to. But March hadn't anything to do with it, sir; he didn't
even know anything about it, sir!' Professor Wheeler was about half
awake, and he thought something terrible was the matter, and it took the
longest time to explain what Clausen was talking about. Then he said he
was glad to learn that I was innocent, and I thanked him, and he started
to ask Clausen a lot of questions. 'But St. Eustace is winning, sir!' I
cried. He looked at me in astonishment. 'Indeed, I'm very sorry to hear
it,' he said. 'But it isn't too late now, sir,' said Clausen. 'For
what?' asked 'Wheels.' 'For me to go on the team,' said I. 'You know,
sir, you put me on probation and I can't play.' 'Oh,' said he, 'but you
were put on probation by the faculty, and the faculty must take you
off.' 'But meanwhile Hillton will be beaten!' said Clausen. 'Can't he
play, sir? He can save the day!' Wheels thought a bit. 'What's the
score?' he asked. Clausen told him. 'Yes,' he said at last, 'run and get
to work. I'll explain to the faculty. And by the way, March, remember
that a kick into touch is always the safest.'"
"Isn't he a rummy old guy?" exclaimed West. "And then?"
"Then I struck out for the gym, got into my canvas togs somehow or
other, and reached the field just about in time. Luckily I knew the
signals. And then after I'd kicked that goal that big Eustace chap
struck me like a locomotive, and I went down on the back of my head; and
that's all except that they brought me up here and Professor Gibbs
plastered me up and gave me a lot of nasty sweet water to take."
"And Clausen?"
"From the little I heard I think Cloud cut the rope and made Clausen
promise not to tell. And he kept his promise until he saw Hillton
getting beaten yesterday, and then he couldn't stand it, and just up and
told everything, and saved us a licking."
"Didn't I tell you Cloud did it? Didn't I--" There came a knock on the
door and in response to Joel's invitation Professor Wheeler and Stephen
Remsen entered. West leaped off the bed--there is a rule at Hillton
forbidding occupying beds save for sleep--and upset Joel's tea.
Professor Wheeler smiled as he said:
"West, you're rather an uneasy fellow to have in a sick-room. Get
something and dry that off the floor there, please.--Well, March, I
understand you got there in the nick of time to-day. Mr. Remsen says you
saved us from defeat."
"Indeed he did, professor; no one else save Blair could have done it
to-day. That goal from the twenty-five-yard line was as pretty a
performance as I've ever seen.--How are you feeling, lad?"
"All right," answered Joel. "I've got a bit of a headache, but I'll be
better in the morning."
"Your appetite doesn't seem to have failed you," said the principal.
"No, sir, I was terribly hungry."
"That's a good sign, they say.--West, you may take your seat again." The
professor and Stephen Remsen occupied the two chairs, and West without
hesitation sat down again on the bed.
"March, I have learned the truth of that affair. Bartlett Cloud, it
appears, cut the bell rope simply in order to throw suspicion on you. He
managed to secure a letter of yours through--hem!--through your
roommate, who, it seems, also bears you a grudge for some real or
fancied slight. Clausen, while a party to the affair, appears to have
taken no active part in it, and only remained silent because threatened
with bodily punishment by Cloud. These boys will be dealt with as
they deserve.
"But I wish to say to you that all along it has been the belief of the
faculty, the entire faculty, that you had no hand in the matter, and we
are all glad to have our judgments vindicated. An announcement will be
made to-morrow which will set you right again before the school. And
now, in regard to Richard Sproule; do you know of any reason why he
should wish you harm?" "No, sir. We don't get along very well, but--"
"I see. Now, it will be best for you to change either your room or your
roommate. Have you any preference which you do?"
"I should like to change my room, sir. I should like to go in with West.
He has a room to himself in Hampton, and wants to have me join him."
"But do you realize that the rent will be very much greater, March?"
"Yes, sir, but West wants me to pay only what I have paid for this room,
sir. He says he'd have to pay for the whole room if I didn't go in with
him, and so it's fair that way. Do you think it is, sir?"
"What would your father say, West?"
"I've asked him, sir. He says to go ahead and do as I please." The
principal smiled as he replied:
"Well, March, then move over to West's room to-morrow. It will be all
fair enough. And I shall be rather glad to have you in Hampton House.
Digbee is an example of splendid isolation there; it will be well to
have some one help him maintain the dignity of study amid such a number
of--er--well, say lilies of the field, West; they toil not, if you
remember, and neither do they spin. Don't get up in the morning if your
head still hurts, March; we don't want you to get sick.--Keep a watch on
him, West; and, by the way, if he wants more tea, run over to the dining
hall and tell the steward I said he was to have it. Good-night, boys."
"Good-night, sir." Remsen shook hands with Joel.
"March, I hope I shall be able to repay you some day for what you did
this afternoon. It meant more to me, I believe, than it did to even you
fellows. I'm going Thursday next. Come and see me before then if you
can. Good-night."
When the door had closed Outfield shouted, "Hurrah!" in three different
keys and pirouetted about the room. "It's all fixed, Joel. Welcome to
Hampton, my lad! Welcome to the classic shades of Donothing Hall! We
will live on pickles and comb-honey, and feast like the Romans of old!
We--" He paused. "Say, Joel, I guess Cloud will be expelled, eh?" Joel
considered thoughtfully with a spoonful of rice pudding midway between
saucer and mouth. Then he swallowed the delicacy. "Yes," he replied,
"and I'm awful glad of it."
But Joel was mistaken; for Cloud was not to be found the next morning,
and the condition of his room pointed to hasty flight. He had taken
alarm and saved himself from the degradation of public dismissal. And so
he passed from Hillton life and was known there no more. Clausen escaped
with a light punishment, for which both Joel and West were heartily
glad. "Because when you get him away from Cloud," said West, "Clausen's
not a bad sort, you know."
Richard Sproule was suspended for the balance of the fall term, and was
no longer monitor of his floor. Perhaps the heaviest punishment was the
amount of study he was required to do in order to return after Christmas
recess, entailing as it did a total relinquishment of Mayne Reid, Scott,
and Cooper. And when he did return his ways led far from Joel's. Very
naturally that youth had now risen to the position of popular hero, and
unapproachable seniors slapped him warmly on the shoulder--a bit of
familiarity Joel was too good-natured to resent--and wide-eyed little
juniors admired him open-mouthed as he passed them. But Joel bore
himself modestly withal, and was in no danger of being spoiled by a
state of things that might well have turned the head of a more
experienced lad than he. It is a question if Outfield did not derive
more real pleasure and pride out of Joel's popularity than did Joel
himself. Every new evidence of the liking and admiration in which the
latter was held filled Outfield's heart with joy.
At last Joel found time to begin his course in golf, and almost any day
the two lads might have been seen on the links, formidably armed with a
confusing assortment of clubs, Outfield quite happy to be exhibiting the
science of his favorite sport, and Joel plowing up the sod in a way to
cause a green-tender, had there been such a person on hand, the most
excruciating pain. But Joel went at golf as he went at everything else,
bending all his energies thereto, and driving thought of all else from
his mind, and so soon became, if not an expert, at least a very
acceptable player who won commendation from even West--and where golf
was concerned Outfield was a most unbiased and unsympathetic judge.
One afternoon Whipple and Blair, the latter once more free from
probation, played a match with Joel and West, and were fairly beaten by
three holes--a fact due less, it is true, to Joel's execution with the
driver than West's all-around playing. But Joel, nevertheless, derived
not a little encouragement from that result, and bade fair to become
almost if not quite as enthusiastic a golfer as West. At first, in the
earlier stages of his initiation, Joel was often discouraged, whereupon
West was wont to repeat the famous reply of the old St. Andrews player
to the college professor, who did not understand why, when he could
teach Latin and Greek, he failed so dismally at golf. "Ay, I ken well ye
can teach the Latin and Greek," said the veteran, "but it takes
_brains_, mon, to play the gowf!" And Joel more than half agreed
with him.
Remsen departed a week after Thanksgiving, being accompanied to the
train by almost as enthusiastic a throng as had welcomed him upon his
arrival. He had consented to return to Hillton the following year and
coach the eleven once more. "I had expected to make this the last year,"
he said, "but now I shall coach, if you will have me, until we win a
decisive victory from St. Eustace. I can't break off my coaching career
with a tie game, you see." And Christie occasioned laughter and applause
by replying, "I'm afraid you're putting a premium on defeat, sir,
because if we win next year's game you won't come back." He shook hands
cordially with Joel, and said:
"When the election of next year's captain comes off, my boy, it's a
pretty sure thing that you'll have a chance at it. But if you'll take my
advice you'll let it alone. I tell you this because I'm your friend all
through. Next fall will be time enough for the honors; this year should
go to hard work without any of the trouble that falls to the lot
of captain."
"Thank you, Mr. Remsen," Joel answered. "I hadn't thought of their doing
such a thing. I don't see why they should want me. But if it's offered
you may be sure I'll decline. I'd be totally unfitted for it; and,
besides, I haven't got the time!"
And so, when two weeks later the election was held in the gymnasium one
evening, Joel did decline, to the evident regret of all the team, and
the honor went to Christie, since both Blair and Whipple were seniors
and would not be in school the next autumn. And Christie made a very
manly, earnest speech, and subsequently called for three times three for
Blair, and three times three for Remsen, and nine times three for
Hillton, all of which were given with a will.
As the Christmas recess approached, Joel spent a great deal of valuable
time in unnecessary conjecture as to his chance of winning the Goodwin
scholarship, and undoubtedly lessened his chance of success by worrying.
The winners were each year announced in school hall on the last day of
the term. The morning of that day found Outfield West very busy packing
a heap of unnecessary golf clubs and wearing apparel into his trunk and
bags, and found Joel seated rather despondently on the lounge looking
on. For West was to spend his vacation with an uncle in Boston, and
Joel, although Outfield had begged him to go along, asserting positively
that his uncle would be proud and happy to see him (Joel), was to spend
the recess at school, since he felt he could not afford the expense of
the trip home. West hesitated long over a blue-checked waistcoat and at
length sighed and left it out.
"Isn't it most time to go over?" asked Joel.
"No; don't you be in a hurry. There's a half hour yet. And if you're
going to get the Goodwin you'll get it, and there isn't any use stewing
over it," replied West severely. "As for me, I'm glad I'm not a grind
and don't have to bother my head about such tommyrot. Just sit on the
lid of this pesky thing, Joel, will you? I'm afraid that last coat was
almost too much for it."
But even suspense comes to an end, and presently Joel found himself
seated by West in the crowded hall, and felt his face going red and pale
by turns, and knew that his heart was beating with unaccustomed violence
beneath his shabby vest. Professor Wheeler made his speech--and what a
long one it seemed to many a lad!--and then the fateful list was lifted
from the table.
"Senior class scholarships have been awarded as follows," announced the
principal. "The Calvin scholarship to Albert Park Digbee, Waltham,
Massachusetts." Joel forgot his unpleasant emotions while he clapped and
applauded. But they soon returned as the list went on. Every
announcement met with uproarous commendation, and boy after boy arose
from his seat and more or less awkwardly bowed his recognition. The
principal had almost completed the senior list.
"Ripley scholarships to George Simms Lennox, New York city; John Fiske,
Brookville, Mississippi; Carleton Sharp Eaton, Milton, Massachusetts;
William George Woodruff, Portland, Maine. Masters scholarships to Howard
McDonnell, Indianapolis, Indiana; Thomas Grey, Yonkers, New York;
Stephen Lutger Williams, Connellsville, Rhode Island; Barton Hobbs,
Farmington, Maine; Walter Haskens Browne, Denver, Colorado; and Justin
Thorp Smith, Chicago, Illinois."
Joel's hands were cold and his feet just wouldn't keep still. The
principal leaned down and took up the upper middle class list. West
nudged Joel smartly in the ribs, and whispered excitedly:
"Now! Keep cool, my boy, keep cool!"
Then Joel heard Professor Wheeler's voice reading from the list, and for
a moment it seemed to come from a great distance.
"Upper middle class scholarships have been awarded as follows:" There
was a pause while he found his place. "Goodwin scholarship to Harold
Burke Reeves, Saginaw, Michigan."
West subsided in his seat with a dismal groan. Joel did not hear it. It
is doubtful if he heard anything until several minutes later, when the
pronouncement of his name awoke him from the lethargy into which he
had fallen.
"Masters scholarships to Joel March, Marchdale, Maine--"
"It's better than nothing, Joel," whispered Outfield. "It's fifty
dollars, you know." But Joel made no reply. What was a Masters to him
who had set his heart on the first prize of all? Presently, when the
lists were over, he stole quietly out unnoticed by his chum, and when
West returned to the room he found Joel at the table, head in hands, an
open book before him. West closed the door and walked noiselessly
forward in the manner of one in a sick-room, At length he asked in a
voice which strove to be natural and unconcerned:
"What are you doing, Joel?"
The head over the book only bent closer as its owner answered doggedly:
"Studying Greek!"