The High School Freshmen Part 36

"Have you any good reason for not going?" asked Mrs. Prescott.

"No, mother; except that I don't like the Ripley crowd particularly.

Then, besides, I have no use for being thanked. I'd have done as much for a tramp that I had never seen before."

"I am afraid you have reasons for disliking Fred Ripley," admitted Mrs. Prescott. "But has the elder Mr. Ripley ever given you any cause for disliking him?"

"No; of course not."

"Then wouldn't it be the part of courtesy for you to go, since he requests it?"

"But, if he wants to thank me, why shouldn't he come here?"

"My boy, it is one of the privileges of older persons to expect younger ones to come to them."

"I guess that's right," nodded d.i.c.k. "Oh, well, I'll go. But, if Mr. Ripley has anything to pa.s.s in the way of thanks, I hope he'll cut it short."

So, at three o'clock, d.i.c.k climbed the stairs and knocked at the office door.

The lawyer himself opened.

"Oh, how do you do, Prescott?" demanded Lawyer Ripley, holding out his hand. "I'm most heartily glad to see you. You didn't see anything of my indolent son on the street, did you?"

"No, sir," the freshman answered, adding, to himself:

"I should hope not!"

"Come into my private office won't you, Prescott?" asked the lawyer, leading the way through his outer office.

The elder Ripley placed a comfortable arm-chair for his freshman caller, asking him to be seated.

Though Lawyer Ripley was, ordinarily, a rather pompous and purseproud sort of man, it was plain that he realized a debt of grat.i.tude, and meant to pay it as graciously as he knew how to do.

"You have performed a most valuable service for me, Prescott,"

began the lawyer again, in a heavy, solemn voice.

"You are quite welcome to the service, Mr. Ripley, and I hope you won't think any more about it," d.i.c.k replied.

"But it is impossible that I forget it," replied the lawyer, raising his eyebrows in some astonishment. "You saved the life of my son, my only child."

"At not very much risk to myself, sir," smiled the freshman.

"I was able, soon after, to go in and win a skating race."

"At not much risk?" repeated the lawyer. "Why, your life was in very considerable danger. Do you call that little?"

"Almost any of the High School fellows would have done it, Mr.

Ripley."

"But none of them did."

"Because I happened to be right at hand, and jumped in first---that was all," d.i.c.k insisted.

"Young man, I am not going to allow you to make little of the great service that you did me. I---ah, here comes the young man we've been discussing." The lawyer changed the subject as Fred entered. "Frederick, you are late, and, on an occasion of this kind, I could hope that you would be more prompt."

"My watch was slow," replied Fred Ripley, using one hand to cover a slight yawn.

"Don't you see who is here?" demanded his father.

"Yes, sir."

"Is that all you have to say?"

"How do you do?" nodded d.i.c.k, for Lawyer Ripley was looking curiously from one boy to the other.

"Don't you---er---consider, Frederick, that it would be an excellent idea if you were to offer your hand to Mr. Prescott?" demanded the lawyer.

The ordeal was as distasteful to d.i.c.k as it could possibly have been to the Ripley heir. Yet d.i.c.k got quickly up out of his chair, accepting the slowly proffered hand of the soph.o.m.ore.

"That's better," smiled the lawyer. "Now, I'll leave you two together for the moment."

The lawyer closed the door behind him as he stepped into the outer office.

Fred Ripley glanced covertly at d.i.c.k, who had remained standing.

Even as big a sneak as young Ripley had shown himself at times to be, he knew perfectly well that he owed it, even to himself, to try to be gracious with the lad who had saved his life.

But d.i.c.k said nothing, nor did he glance particularly at the soph.o.m.ore.

That made it all the harder for Fred to find something to say.

The clock in the room ticked. d.i.c.k, to relieve the awkwardness of the situation, strolled over to a window and stood looking out.

That, therefore, was the situation when Lawyer Ripley came back into the room.

"What a jovial, friendly pair!" railed the lawyer, who held a slip of paper in his hand, as he advanced toward the freshman.

"Prescott," declared the lawyer, "I can't tell you what is in my heart. I can't even pay you adequately for what you have done for me and for my boy. But I ask you to accept this as a slight indication, only, of what I feel."

d.i.c.k took the paper, glancing at it curiously. It was the lawyer's check for two hundred and fifty dollars.

"Accept it," begged the lawyer, in a rather pompous voice. "Do whatever you please with it."

d.i.c.k colored. "Whatever I please with it?" he asked, a bit unsteadily.

"Yes; certainly, of course," murmured the lawyer. "I have no doubt whatever that a live? healthy boy can find something to do with a check like that."

Flushing still more deeply, while Fred Ripley looked on, at first enviously, d.i.c.k Prescott tore the check into several pieces.

The lawyer stared at him in amazement.

"I appreciate your intention, Mr. Ripley," d.i.c.k went on, his voice a bit husky, "and I thank you, sir. But I can't take any money."

"Can't take it?" repeated the astonished lawyer, while Fred Ripley fairly gasped.