The New Boy at Hilltop, and Other Stories Part 26

"Open it up, old man!"

When he saw the gun-metal paper knife, he glanced quickly at Satherwaite.

He was very red in the face. Satherwaite smiled back imperturbably. The knife went from hand to hand, awakening enthusiastic admiration.

"But, I say, old man, who gave--?" began Smith.

"I'm awfully much obliged, Satherwaite," said Doyle, "but, really, I couldn't think of taking--"

"Chop it off!" echoed Satherwaite. "Look here, Doyle, it isn't the sort of thing I'd give you from choice; it's a useless sort of toy, but I just happened to have it with me; bought it in the square on the way to give to some one, I didn't know who, and so, if you don't mind, I wish you'd accept it, you know. It'll do to put on the table or--open cans with. If you'd rather not take it, why, chuck it out of the window!"

"It isn't that," cried Doyle; "it's only that it's much too fine----"

"Oh, no, it isn't," said Satherwaite. "Now, then, where's 'Little Alfie Ailworth'?"

Small candy canes followed the packages, and the men drew once more around the hearth, munching the pink and white confectionery enjoyingly. Smith insisted upon having the cranberries, and wore them around his neck. The popcorn was distributed equally, and the next day, in the parlor car, Satherwaite drew his from a pocket together with his handkerchief.

Some one struck up a song, and Doyle remembered that Satherwaite had been in the Glee Club. There was an instant clamor for a song, and Satherwaite, consenting, looked about the room.

"Haven't any thump box," said Smith. "Can't you go it alone?"

Satherwaite thought he could, and did. He had a rich tenor voice, and he sang all the songs he knew. When it could be done, by hook or by crook, the others joined in the chorus; not too loudly, for it was getting late and proctors have sharp ears. When the last refrain had been repeated for the third time, and silence reigned for the moment, they heard the bell in the near-by tower. They counted its strokes; eight--nine--ten--eleven--twelve.

"Merry Christmas, all!" cried Smith.

In the clamor that ensued, Satherwaite secured his coat and hat. He shook hands all around. Smith insisted upon sharing the cranberries with him, and so looped a string gracefully about his neck. When Satherwaite backed out the door he still held Doak's pet pipe clenched between his teeth, and Doak, knowing it, said not a word.

"Hope you'll come back and see us," called Doyle.

"That's right, old man, don't forget us!" shouted Ailworth.

And Satherwaite, promising again and again not to, stumbled his way down the dark stairs.

Outside, he glanced gratefully up at the lighted panes. Then he grinned, and, scooping a handful of snow, sent it fairly against the gla.s.s.

Instantly, the windows banged up, and six heads thrust themselves out.

"Good night! Merry Christmas, old man! Happy New Year!"

Something smashed softly against Satherwaite's cheek. He looked back. They were gathering snow from the ledges and throwing s...o...b..a.l.l.s after him.

"Good shot!" he called. "Merry Christmas!"

The sound of their cries and laughter followed him far down the avenue.

THE TRIPLE PLAY

"If they hadn't gone and made Don captain last year," said Satterlee, 2d, plaintively. "That's where the trouble is."

"How do you mean?" asked Tom Pierson, looking up in a puzzled way from the hole he was digging in the turf in front of the school hall.

"Why," answered Satterlee, 2d, with a fine air of wisdom, "I mean that it doesn't do for a fellow to have his brother captain. Don's been so afraid of showing me favoritism all spring that he hasn't given me even a fair chance. When I came out for the nine in March and tried for second he was worried to death. "Look here, Kid," he said, "there's no use your wanting to play on second because there's Henen and Talbot after it." "Well, how do you know I can't play second as well as they?" says I. He was--was horrified. That's it; a fellow can't understand how a member of his own family can do anything as well as some one else. See what I mean?"

Tom Pierson nodded doubtfully.

"'You try for a place in the outfield,' said Don. 'But I don't want to play in the outfield.' I told him. But it didn't make any difference. 'There's three fellows for every infield position.' said Don, 'and I'm not going to have the fellows accuse me of boosting my kid brother over their heads.'

Well, so I did as he said. Of course I didn't have any show. There was Williams and Beeton and 'Chick' Meyer who could do a heap better than I could. They'd played in the outfield ail their lives and I'd always been at second--except one year that I caught when I was a kid. Well, maybe next year I'll have a better show, for a whole lot of this year's team graduate to-morrow. Wish I did."

"I don't," said Tom. "I like it here. I think Willard's the best school in the country."

"So do I, of course," answered Satterlee, 2d. "But don't you want to get up to college?"

"I'm in no hurry; you see, there's math; I'm not doing so badly at it now since Bailey has been helping me, but I don't believe I could pa.s.s the college exam in it."

"You and 'Old Crusty' seem awfully thick these days," mused the other.

"Wish he'd be as easy on me as he is on you. You were fishing together yesterday, weren't you?"

Tom nodded. "Sixteen trout," he said promptly.

"Wish I'd been along," sighed Satterlee, 2d. "All I caught was flies during practice. Then when they played the second I sat on the bench as usual and looked on."

"But Don will put you in this afternoon, won't he?"

"I dare say he will; for the last inning maybe. What good's that? Nothing ever happens to a chap in center field. And when a fellow's folks come to visit him he naturally wants to--to show off a bit."

Tom nodded sympathetically.

"Hard lines," he said. "But why don't you ask your brother to give you a fair show; put you in the sixth or something like that?"

"Because I won't. He doesn't think I can play baseball. I don't care. Only I hope--I hope we get beaten!"

"No, you don't."

"How do you know?" asked the other morosely.

"Because you couldn't," Tom replied. "Is 'Curly' going to pitch?"

"No, Durham's agreed not to play any of her faculty. Willings is going to pitch. I'll bet"--his face lost some of its gloom--"I'll bet it will be a dandy game!"

"Who's going to win?" asked Tom anxiously.

"You can search me!" answered Satterlee, 2d, cheerfully. "Durham's lost only two games this season, one to St. Eustace and one to us. And we've lost only the first game with Durham. There you are, Tommy; you can figure it out for yourself. But we won last year and it's safe to say Durham's going to work like thunder to win this. What time is it?"

"Twenty minutes to twelve," answered Tom.

"Gee! I've got to find Don and go over to the station to meet the folks.