The Jester of St. Timothy's Part 10

"By the way, will you please ask Collingwood to come here?"

When Westby returned with Collingwood, Irving had the note written and handed it to him; there was no excuse for Westby to linger. He went over and waited by the door, while Irving said,-

"Collingwood, why didn't you come up and ask me to reduce your report?

Didn't you think it was unfair?"

"Yes," Collingwood answered promptly.

"Well, then-why didn't you come to me and say so?"

Collingwood thought a moment.

"Well," he said, "you had such fun in soaking me that I wasn't going to give you the additional satisfaction of seeing me cry baby."

"I'll learn something about boys sometime-if you fellows will keep on educating me," observed Irving. "I think your performance of yesterday deserves about a sheet; we'll make it that."

He scribbled a note and handed it to the boy.

"Thank you, Mr. Upton." Collingwood tucked the note into his pocket with a friendly smile, and then joined Westby.

"Knock you down to half a sheet?" asked Westby, as they departed in the direction of the Study, where they were to perform their tasks.

"No; a sheet."

"Mine's one and a half now. What got into him?"

"He's not without sense," said Collingwood.

"Ho!" Westby was derisive. "He's soft. He got scared. He knew he'd gone too far-and he was afraid to stand by his guns."

"I don't think so. I think he's just trying to do the right thing."

It was unfortunate for Irving that later in the afternoon Carter of the Fifth Form-who played in the banjo club with Westby-was pa.s.sing the Study building just as Westby was coming out from his confinement.

"h.e.l.lo, Wes!" said Carter. "Thought you were in for three sheets; how do you happen to be at large so soon?"

"Kiddy made it one and a half-without my asking him," said Westby.

"And Collingwood the same?"

"He made his only a sheet."

"That's it," said Carter shrewdly. "I was waiting to see the rector this morning; the door was open, and he had Kiddy in there with him. I guess he was lecturing him on those reports; I guess he told him he'd have to take off a couple of sheets."

"I shouldn't wonder," said Westby. "I don't believe old Hoopo would have interfered much on my account,-but I guess he couldn't stand for Lou Collingwood getting three sheets. And Kiddy, the fox, tried to make us think he was being magnanimous!"

Westby chuckled over his humorous discovery, and as soon as possible imparted it to Collingwood.

"Oh, well, what if the rector did make him do it?" said Collingwood.

"The way he did it shows he's all right-"

"Trying to get the credit with us for being just and generous!" observed Westby. "Oh, I don't mind; of course it's only Kiddy."

And it was Westby's view of the matter which most of the boys heard and credited. So the improvement in the general att.i.tude for which Irving had hoped was hardly to be noticed. He had some gratification the next Sunday when the roast beef was brought on and he carved it with creditable ease and dispatch; the astonishment of the whole table, and especially of Westby and Carroll, was almost as good as applause. He could not resist saying, in a casual way, "The knife seems to be sharp this Sunday." And he felt that for once Westby was nonplussed.

But the days pa.s.sed, and Irving felt that he was not getting any nearer to the boys. At his table the talk went on before him, mainly about athletics, about college life, about Europe and automobiles,-all topics from which he seemed strangely remote. It needed only the talk of these experienced youths to make him realize that he had gone through college without ever touching "college life,"-its sports, its social diversions, its adventures. It had been for him a life in a library, in cla.s.srooms, in his own one shabby little room,-a cloistered life; in the hard work of it and the successful winning of his way he had been generally contented and happy. But he could not talk to these boys about "college life" as it appeared to them; and they very soon, perhaps by common consent, eliminated him from the conversation. Nor was he able to cope with Westby in the swift, glancing monologues which flowed on and on sometimes, to the vast amus.e.m.e.nt of the audience. Often to Irving these seemed not very funny, and he did not know which was the more trying-to sit grave and unconcerned in the midst of so much mirth or to keep his mouth stretched in an insincere, wooden smile. Whichever he did, he felt that Westby always was taking notes, to ridicule him afterwards to the other boys.

One habit which Westby had was that of bringing a newspaper to supper and taking the table with him in an excursion over headlines and advertising columns. His mumbling manner, his expertness in bringing out distinctly a ridiculous or incongruous sentence, and his skill in selecting such sentences at a glance always drew attention and applause; he had the comedian's technique.

The boys at the neighboring tables, hearing so much laughter and seeing that Westby was provoking it, would stop eating and twist round and tilt back their chairs and strain their ears eagerly for some fragment of the fun. At last at the head table Mr. Randolph took cognizance of this daily boisterousness, spoke to Irving about it, and asked him to curb it. Irving thereupon suggested to Westby that he refrain from reading his newspaper at table.

"But all the fellows depend on me to keep them _au courant_, as it were." Westby was fond of dropping into French in his arguments with Irving.

"You will have to choose some other time for it," Irving answered. "I understand that there is a rule against reading newspapers at table, and I think it must be observed."

"Oh, very well,-_de bon cur_," said Westby.

The next day at supper he appeared without his newspaper. But in the course of the meal he drew from his pocket some newspaper clippings which he had pasted together and which he began to read in his usual manner. Soon the boys of the table were laughing, soon the boys of the adjacent tables were twisting round and trying to share in the amus.e.m.e.nt. Westby read in his rapid consecutive way,-

"'Does no good unless taken as directed-pain in the back, loins, or region of the kidneys-danger signal nature hangs out-um-um-um. Mother attacks son with razor, taking tip of left ear. Catcher Dan McQuilligan signs with the Red Sox-The Woman Beautiful-Bright Eyes: Every woman is ent.i.tled to a clear, brilliant complexion-um-if she is not so blessed, it is usually her own fault-um-Candidate for pulchritude: reliable beauty shop-do not clip the eyelashes-um.-Domestic science column-Baked quail: pick, draw, and wipe the bird outside and inside; use a wet cloth.-No, Hortense, it is not necessary to offer a young man refreshments during an evening call.'"

Westby was going on and on; he had a hilarious audience now of three tables. From the platform at the end of the dining-room Mr. Randolph looked down and shook his head-shook it emphatically; and Irving, seeing it, understood the signal.

"Westby," said Irving. "Westby!" He had to raise his voice.

"Yes, sir?" Westby looked up innocently.

"I will have to ask you to discontinue your reading."

"But this is not a newspaper."

"It's part of one."

"Yes, sir, but the rule is against bringing newspapers to table-not against bringing newspaper clippings to table."

"The rule's been changed," said Irving. "It now includes clippings."

"You see how it is, fellows." Westby turned to the others.

"Persecuted-always persecuted. If I'm within the rules-they change the rules to soak me. Well,"-he folded up his clippings and put them in his pocket,-"the cla.s.s in current topics is dismissed. But instead Mr. Upton has very kindly consented to entertain us this evening-some of his inimitable chit-chat-"

"I wouldn't always try to be facetious, Westby," said Irving.

"I beg your pardon, sir," replied Westby urbanely. "If I have wounded your sensibilities-I would not do that-never-_jamais-pas du tout_."

Irving said nothing; it seemed to him that Westby always had the last word; it seemed to him as if Westby was always skillfully tripping him up, executing a derisive flourish over his prostrate form, and then prancing away to the cheers of the populace.

But there were no more violent encounters, such as had taken place in the cla.s.s-room; Westby never quite crossed the line again; and Irving controlled his temper on threatening occasions. These occurred in dormitory less often; the fine weather and the fall sports-football and tennis and track athletics-kept the boys out-doors. On rainy afternoons there was apt to be some noise and disorder-usually there was what was termed an "Allison hunt," which took various forms, but which, whether resulting in the dismemberment of the boy's room or the pursuit and battery of him with pillows along the corridors, invariably required Irving's interference to quell it. This task of interference, though it was one that he came to perform more and more capably, never grew less distasteful or less humiliating; he saw always the row of faces wearing what he construed as an impudent grin. What seemed to him curious was the fact that Allison after a fashion enjoyed-at least did not resent-the outrages of which he was the subject; after them he would be found sitting amicably with his tormentors, drinking their chocolate and eating their crackers and jam. This was so different from his own att.i.tude after he had been teased that Irving could not understand it.

After studying the case, he concluded that the "Allison hunts" were not prompted by any hatred of the subject, but by the fact merely that he was big, clumsy, good-natured, slow-witted-easy to make game of-and especially by the fact that when aroused he showed a certain joyous rage in his own defense. But Irving saw no way of learning a lesson from Allison.