The Jester of St. Timothy's Part 18

CHAPTER IX

WESTBY IN THE GAME

It was with satisfaction that Westby and Carroll saw Lawrence entering the dining-room with Irving. They had observed the long table spread in the common room of the Upper School, where the visiting team were to be entertained at luncheon, and had supposed therefore that they would have no chance of satisfying their curiosity about the master's brother.

When Irving introduced Lawrence to them, Westby said,-

"We hoped we were going to see you here, but we were afraid you might have to eat outside with your team."

"Oh, I got special permission from the captain for this occasion," said Lawrence. "I'm afraid I'm depriving somebody of his seat," he added to Irving.

"It's Caldwell-I arranged with him about it. He's gone to Mr. Randolph's table."

"Besides, he's only a Fourth Former," said Westby.

Lawrence laughed. "You're Sixth, I suppose?" Westby nodded. "Going to Harvard next year?"

"Yes."

"Good for you. I'll tell you one thing; you couldn't have a better man to get you in than this brother of mine-if I do say it. He tutored me for Harvard-and I guess you've never had a worse blockhead, have you, Irv?"

"Oh, you were all right in some things, Lawrence."

"I'd like to know what. How I used to try your patience, though!"

Lawrence chuckled, then turned and addressed the boys, especially Westby and Carroll, as they were the oldest. "Did any of you ever see him mad?"

"Oh, surely never that," said Westby urbanely. "Irritated perhaps, but not mad-never lacking in self-control."

Westby, thinking himself safe, ventured upon his humorous wink to Blake and the others who were grinning; Lawrence intercepted it and at once fixed Westby with a penetrating gaze.

Westby colored and looked down; Lawrence held his eyes on him until Westby looked up and then, in even greater embarra.s.sment under this prolonged scrutiny, down again. Then Lawrence turned to his brother.

"Tell me, Irv," he said in a tone that simply brushed aside as non-existent everybody else at the table-just as if he and his brother were talking together alone, "what sort of kids do you have to look after in your dormitory, anyhow?"

Irving's lip twitched with amus.e.m.e.nt; Westby, still scarlet, was looking at his plate. "Oh, a pretty good sort-but they're Sixth Formers, you know-not kids."

"Pretty fresh, are they-trying to show off a good deal and be funny?"

"Oh, one or two only; still, even they aren't bad."

Lawrence paid no further attention to Westby. Now and then he spoke to Carroll and to Blake, but most of his conversation-and it dealt with the sort of college life about which boys liked to hear, and about which Irving had never been able to enlighten them-he addressed directly to his brother.

Westby listened to it gloomily; there were many questions that he wanted to ask, but now he did not dare. Evidently Mr. Upton had warned his brother against him, had imparted to his brother his own dislike; that was why Lawrence had nipped so brutally his harmless, humorous allusion to the master's temper.

As a matter of fact, Lawrence had had no previous knowledge whatever of Westby; Irving had always withstood his impulse to confide his troubles.

He made now an effort to draw Westby forward and reinstate him in the conversation; he said,-

"Lawrence, you and Westby here may come against each other this afternoon; Westby's first subst.i.tute for one of the half-backs on the School eleven."

Lawrence said, "That's good," and gave Westby hardly a glance.

After luncheon, walking down to the athletic field with Westby, Carroll said jeeringly,-

"Well, Kiddy Upton's brother is no myth, is he, Wes?"

At that Westby began to splutter. "Conceited chump! He makes me tired.

Of all the fresh things-to sit up there and talk about the 'kids' in Kiddy's dormitory!"

Carroll laughed in his silent, irritating way. "He certainly put you down and out-a good hard one. Why, even Kiddy was sorry for you."

Westby went on fuming. "Sorry for me! I guess Kiddy had been whining to him about how I'd worried him. That's why the chump had it in for me."

"Chump, Wes! Such a peach of a good looker?"

"Oh, shut up. I don't care if he is good looking; he's fresher than paint."

"He would think that was a queer criticism for you to make."

Westby stalked on in angry silence. He was more wounded than he could let Carroll know. There was a side to him which he shrank from displaying,-the gentle, affectionate side of which Irving had had a glimpse when the boy was anxiously watching his young cousin Price in the mile run; and to this quality Lawrence's greeting of his brother had unconsciously appealed. Westby had stood by and heard his words, "_You_ carry that, you little fellow!" had seen the humor in his eyes and the gentleness on his lips, and had felt something in his own throat.

For all his affectation of worldliness and cynicism, the boy was a hero-worshiper at heart, and could never resist being attracted by a fine face and a handsome pair of eyes and a pleasant voice; Lawrence had in the first glance awakened an enthusiasm which was eager for near acquaintance. And now, although he talked so venomously against him, it was not Lawrence whom he reproached in his heart; it was himself.

Why had he been unable to resist the impulse to be smart, to be funny, to be cheap? He might have known that a fellow like Lawrence would see through his remark and would resent it; he might have known that his silly, clownish wink could not escape Lawrence's keen eyes.

So Westby walked on, gloomily reproaching himself, unconscious that at that very moment, walking a hundred yards behind, Irving was defending him.

"A month ago, Lawrence, I'd have been glad to have you light on Westby as you did," he said. "But now I'm rather sorry."

"Why so?"

"Oh, he's had some hard luck lately, and-well, I don't know. Those encounters with a boy don't seem to me worth while."

"You've got to suppress them when they're fresh like that," insisted Lawrence. "For a fellow to talk to you in that fresh way before a guest-and that guest your brother-I don't stand for it; that's all."

"No, I don't either. Well, it doesn't matter much; reproof slides off Westby like water off a duck's back."

They talked of other things then until Lawrence had to join his team and enter the athletic house with them to dress.

Out on the field Irving mingled with the crowd, walked to and fro nervously, stopped to say only a word now to a boy, now to a master, and then pa.s.sed on. It was foolish for him to be so excited, so tremulous, he told himself. Lawrence had parted from him with the same calmness with which he might have gone to prepare for bed. It was all the more foolish to be so excited, because the accessories to promote a preliminary excitement were lacking,-rivalry, partisanship; the visiting team had no supporters.

The School had turned out to see the game, but there was no cheering, no thrill of expectation; the boys stood about and waited quietly, as they would before ordinary practice. It would be different in another week, when the St. John's team were sharing the athletic house with St.

Timothy's, and the adherents of the two schools were ranged opposite each other, waving flags and hurling back and forth challenging cheers-cheers meant to inspirit the players while they dressed. But now Irving was aware that he in all the crowd was the only one whose nerves and muscles were quivering, whose voice might not be quite natural or quite under his control, whose heart was beating hard.

If Lawrence should not play well this time-the first time he had ever seen him play! Or if anything should happen to him! Irving tramped back and forth, digging cold hands into his pockets.

The Harvard team was the first to leave the athletic house; they broke through the line of spectators near where Irving stood and trotted out on the field. As they pa.s.sed, he caught his brother's eye and waved to him. In the preliminary practice Irving watched him eagerly; with his light curly hair he was conspicuous, and as he was on the end of the line his movements were easy to follow. It seemed to Irving that he was the quickest and the readiest and the handsomest of them all.