No, I this is my first year.
What class?
Third, I expect.
Same here. Im new, too. I was at St. Michaels last year, until April. I beat it then. Got in wrong with faculty, you know. He smiled and winked. Great little school, St. Michaels, but sort of narrow. My old man said he guessed I needed more elbow-room. So I thought Id try this place. Looks all right so far; sort of pretty: plenty of trees. I like trees. Grew up with em. Maybe thats why. Dad made his money out of trees.
Indeed? responded Myron, coldly polite. Lumber, I suppose.
Wrong, kiddo. Spruce gum.
Oh!
Maybe youve heard of him: Tom Dobbins: the Spruce Gum King, some call him.
Myron shook his head. For some absurd reason he felt slightly apologetic, and was angry with himself for it.
No? Well, I guess you dont come from my part of the country. Portland, Maines my home. Weve been living there six or seven years. I missed the woods at first a heap, let me tell you. Why, we used to live right in em: big trees all around: no town nearer than six miles. I was born there, in a log house. So were my three sisters. Them was the happy days, as the guy says.
Very very interesting, Im sure, said Myron, but about this room, Dobbins: Youre quite certain that they told you Number 17?
Sure! Why not? Whats wrong with it? Dobbins gazed questioningly about the study and then leaned forward to peer through the open door of the bedroom. Looks all right. Plumbing out o order, or something? Any one had smallpox here? Whats the idea?
The idea, replied Myron a bit haughtily, is that I am supposed to have this suite to myself. I particularly asked for a single suite. In fact, I am paying for one. So I presume that either you or I have made a mistake.
Dobbins whistled. Then he laughed enjoyably. Myron thought it was a particularly unpleasant laugh. Say, thats rich, aint it? asked Dobbins finally. No wonder you were sort of stand-offish, kiddo! Gee, its a wonder you didnt biff me a couple and throw me out on my bean! Ill say it is! Butting in on your er privacy, like, eh? Say, Im sure that Hoyt guy said seventeen, but he may have got his wires crossed. Ill mosey over and
Dont bother. I havent registered yet. Ill straighten it out. Maybe he meant one of the other halls.
Might be, said Dobbins doubtfully, but he sure said Sohmer. This is Sohmer, aint it?
Yes. Well, Ill find out about it. Meanwhile you might just er wait.
Got you, kiddo. Ill come along, though, if you say so. I dont mind. Im fine and cool now. Maybe Id better, eh?
No, no, replied Myron quickly. You stay here. He repressed a shudder at the thought of being seen walking into the Administration Building with Dobbins! For fear that the latter would insist on accompanying him, he seized his hat and fairly bolted, leaving the intruder in possession of the disputed premises.
The Administration Building was but a few rods away, and Myron, nursing his indignation, was soon there. But it was evident that he would have to wait a considerable time, for the space outside the railing that divided the secretarys office in half was well filled with returning students. There was nothing for Myron to do save take his place in the line that wound from the secretarys desk across the room and back again. But the official, in spite of a nervous manner, handled the registrations efficiently, and after fifteen minutes or so, during which he was annoyedly aware of the amused stares and whisperings of a couple of fourth class youngsters, Myrons turn came. He gave his name and answered the questions and then, when the secretary waved him on, Theres been a mistake made about my room, sir, he said. I engaged a single suite nearly two months ago and you wrote that I was to have Number 17 Sohmer. Now I find that youve put another fellow in with me, a fellow named Dobbin or Dobbins.
The secretary rescued the card that he had a moment before consigned to the index at his elbow and glanced quickly over it. Oh, yes, he answered. I recall it now. But I wrote to your father several days ago explaining that owing to the unexpectedly large number of students this year wed be unable to give you a study to yourself. Possibly you left before the letter reached your home in ah, yes, Port Foster, Delaware. The school catalogue states distinctly that rooms are rented singly only when circumstances permit. The suite assigned you is a double one and we have had to fill it. Very sorry, Mr. Foster, but perhaps you will find it an advantage to have a companion with you.
But my father is paying for a single room
That has been arranged. One-half of the first term rental has been refunded. That is all, Mr. Foster?
Why why, I suppose so, but I dont like it, sir. You agreed to give me a room to myself. If I had known how it was to be, I I think Id have gone somewhere else!
Well, wed be sorry to lose you, of course, replied the secretary politely, but unfortunately there is no way of giving you the accommodations you want. If you care to communicate with your father by wire we will hold your registration open until the morning. Now I shall have to ask you to let the next young gentleman
I guess youd better do that, replied Myron haughtily. Ill telegraph my father right away.
The secretary nodded, already busy with the next youth, and Myron made his way out. As he went down the worn stone steps he saw the two fourth class boys adorning the top rail of the fence that bordered Maple Street, and as he passed them he heard a snicker and a voice asking Isnt he a dur-ream? His first angry impulse was to turn back and scold, but second thoughts sent him on with an expression of contemptuous indifference. But the incident did not sweeten his disposition any, and when he strode into Number 17 again it needed only the sight that met him to set him off. Joe Dobbins, minus coat and vest, his suspenders hanging, was sitting in the rooms one easy chair with his stockinged feet on the table. Myron, closing the door behind him, glared for an instant. Then:
What do you think this is, Dobbin? he demanded angrily. A a stable?
Dobbins jaw dropped and he viewed Myron with ludicrous surprise. How do you mean, a stable? he asked.
I mean that if youre going to stay here with me tonight youve got to act like a a gentleman! Sitting around with your suspenders down and your shoes off and your feet on the table
Oh! said Joe, in vast relief. Thats it! I thought maybe you were going to crack some joke about me being a horse, on account of my name. Dont gentlemen put their feet on the table and let their galluses down?
No, they dont! snapped Myron. And as long as youre rooming with me which I hope wont be long Ill ask you to cut out that roughneck stuff.
Sure, grinned Joe. Anything to oblige, Foster. He had already dropped his feet, and now he drew his suspenders over his shoulders again and slipped his feet back into his shoes. Dont guess Ill ever get on to the ways of the best circles, Foster. Im what you call an Unspoiled Child of Nature. Well, what did the guy in the Office say? Im betting I was right, kiddo.
And dont call me kiddo! You know my name. Use it.
Gosh-all-hemlock! murmured the other. Say, you must have one of those fiery Southern temperaments Ive read about. Now I know how the Civil War happened. Ill bet youre a direct descendant of General Lee!
Im not a Southerner, answered Myron. Just where do you think Delaware is?
Well, I didnt know you hailed from there, replied Joe untroubledly, but Id say Delaware was sort of Southern. Aint it?
No more than Maine. Look here, Dobbin
Dobbins, please; with an S.
Dobbins, then, continued Myron impatiently. That fellow over there says the schools so full I cant have a room to myself. They promised me I could two months ago, and weve paid for one. Well, Im going to get out and go somewhere where where they know how to treat you. But but I cant leave until tomorrow, so well have to share this place tonight.
Thatll be all right, replied Joe affably. I dont mind.
Myron stared. I didnt suppose you did, he said.
Meaning you do, eh? Joe laughed good-naturedly. That it?
Im not used to sharing my room with others, answered Myron stiffly. And Im afraid you and I havent very much in common. So I guess well get on better if if we keep to ourselves.
All right, kiddo I mean Foster. Anything for a quiet life! Suppose we draw a line down the middle of the room, eh? Got a piece of chalk or something?
Ive taken the chiffonier nearest the window, said Myron, disregarding the levity. But Ill have my things out in the morning, in case you prefer it to the other.
Chiff Oh, you mean the skinny bureau? Doesnt make any difference to me which I have, ki Foster. Say, you dont really mean that youre going to leave Parkinson just because you cant have a room to yourself, do you?
I do. Im going out now to send a wire to my father.
Gee, I wouldnt do that, honest! Why, say, maybe I can find a room somewhere else. I dont mind. This place is too elegant for me, anyway. Better let me have a talk with that guy over there before you do anything rash, Foster. Im sorry I upset your arrangements like this, but it isnt really my fault; now is it?
I suppose not, replied Myron grudgingly. But I dont believe you can do anything with him. Still, if you dont mind trying, Ill put off sending that telegram until you get back.
Atta boy! Wheres my coat? Just you sit tight till I tell that guy where he gets off. Be right back, kiddo!
Joe Dobbins banged the door behind him and stamped away down the corridor. Pending his return, Myron found a piece of paper, drew his silver pencil from his pocket and frowningly set about the composition of that telegram. Possibly, he thought, it would be better to address it to his mother. Of the two, she was more likely to recognise the enormity of the offence committed by the school. Still, she would see it in any case if he addressed it to the house and not to the office. When it was done, after several erasures, it read:
Mr. John W. Foster, Warrenton Hall, Port Foster, Del.
Arrived safely, but find that I cannot have room to myself as was agreed. Must share suite with impossible fellow named Dobbins. Prefer some other school. Not too late if you wire tonight. Love. Myron.
Putting Dobbins name into the message was, he considered, quite a masterly stroke. He imagined his mothers expression when she read it!
CHAPTER III
THE IMPOSSIBLE FELLOW
Dobbins was gone the better part of half an hour and when he finally returned his expression showed that he had met with failure. Still, he explained hopefully, Hoyt says he will give me the first vacancy that turns up. Sometimes fellows have to drop out after school begins, he says. Fail at exams or something. He says maybe he can put me somewhere else within a week. Mind you, he doesnt promise, but I made a pretty good yarn of it, and I guess he will do it if he possibly can. Joe Dobbins chuckled reminiscently. I told him that if he didnt separate us I wouldnt answer for what happened. Said wed already had two fights and were spoiling for another. Said youd pitched my things out the window and that Id torn up all your yellow neckties. Maybe he didnt believe all I told him: hes a foxy little guy: but I guess I got him thinkin, all right!
You neednt have told him all that nonsense, demurred Myron. He will think Im a a
Not for a minute! I told him you were a perfect gentleman. Incompatibility of temperament is what I called it. He said why didnt I leave off the last two syllables. Well, thats that, kiddo I mean Foster. Better leave it lay until we see what happens, eh?
Not at all. I shall send this telegram, Dobbins. I dont believe he has any idea of of doing anything about it.
We-ell, youre the doctor, but Say, wherell you go if you leave this place?
I dont know yet. There are plenty of other schools around here, though. Theres one up the line a ways. I think its called Kenwood. Or theres
Kenwood? Gee, boy, you dont want to go there! Dont you read the crime column in the papers? Why, Kenwood is filled with thugs and hoboes and the scum of the earth. A feller on the train told me so coming down here. Parkinson and Kenwood are rivals: get it? You dont want to throw down this place and take up with the enemy, eh?
I dont see what that has to do with it, Myron objected. Im not a Parkinson fellow. And I dare say that Kenwood is quite as good a school as Parkinson.
But Joe Dobbins shook his head. That feller on the train talked mighty straight. I wouldnt like to think he was lying to me. He said that Kenwood was was now what was it he said? Oh, I got it! He said it was an asylum for the mentally deficient. Sounds bad, eh?
Rot! grunted Myron. Im going over to the telegraph office.
All right. If the Big Boss drops in Ill tell him.
When Myron had gone Joe promptly removed coat and vest once more, dropped his suspenders about his hips and kicked off his shoes. Might as well be comfortable when His Majestys away, he sighed. Gee, but hes the limit, now aint he? I suppose I ought to have spanked him when he called me a stable or whatever it was. But I dunno, hes sort of a classy guy. Guess he isnt so worse if you hack into him. Barks a little punk, but the woods all right underneath, likely. Dont know if I could stand living with him regular, though. Not much fun in life if you cant slip your shoes off when your feet hurt. Well, I guess Ill get these satchels emptied. What was it he called those bureaus, now? Chiff chiff Ill have to get him to tell me that again. One thing, Joey: living with Mr. Fosterll teach you manners. Only Id hate to think Id ever get to wearing a lemon-yellow necktie!
Still feeling deeply wronged and out-of-sorts, Myron made his way back to Maple Street and set out toward the business part of Warne. The breeze that had made the late September afternoon fairly comfortable had died away and the maples that lined the broad, pleasant thoroughfare drooped their leaves listlessly and the asphalt radiated heat. Myron wished that he had shed his waistcoat in the room. Students were still arriving, for he passed a number on their way to the school, bags in hands, and several taxis and tumble-down carriages went by with hilarious occupants oozing forth from doors and windows. One of the taxi drivers honked brazenly as his clattering vehicle passed Myron and the latter glanced up in time to receive a flatteringly friendly wave and shout from Eddie Moses. Myron frowned. Folks here are a lot of savages, he muttered.