SKIPPY BEDELLE

By Owen Johnson

_Lawrenceville Stories_

 THE PRODIGIOUS HICKEY THE VARMINT THE TENNESSEE SHAD SKIPPY BEDELLE

 * * * * *

 STOVER AT YALE THE WASTED GENERATION BLUE BLOOD CHILDREN OF DIVORCE

[Illustration: They walked in silence, oppressed by the greatness oftheir grief. FRONTISPIECE. _See page 279_]

 SKIPPY BEDELLE

 HIS SENTIMENTAL PROGRESS FROM THE URCHIN TO THE COMPLETE MAN OF THE WORLD

 BY OWEN JOHNSON

 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY ERNEST FUHR

 [Illustration]

 BOSTON LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY 1937

 _Copyright, 1922_, BY OWEN JOHNSON. 

 _All rights reserved_

 PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

 _To_ CHARLES HANSON TOWNE FOR AULD LANG SYNE

PREFACE

LIKEWISE A DECLARATION OF PRINCIPLES

Until the first great disillusions of his youth, the Bedelle FootRegulator and the Mosquito-Proof Socks, had brought a new sentimentalneed of consolation and understanding, Skippy Bedelle's opinion of thefeminine sex had been decidedly monastic. During the first twenty-fiveyears of their existence, he regarded them as unmitigated nuisances, andpondering on them, he often wondered at the hidden purposes of theCreator. Later they might possibly serve some purpose by marrying andadding to the world's supply of boys. In a further progress, a sort ofpenitential progress, they became more valuable members of society, asmaiden aunts who tipped you on the quiet, and grandmothers who mitigatedparental severity and knew the exquisite art of ginger snaps, crisp andbrown. 

But before the skirted animal, which resembled but was quite unlike aman, had atoned for the error of her birth, Skippy refused to take herseriously. There were boys even younger than he who wore girls' jewelry, who wrote and received what were called "mash notes, " and who flauntedthese sentimentalities openly. He knew such incomprehensible males didexist. There were three on his block and he had thrashed them allsoundly and been thrashed for having thrashed them, which of courseconvinced him in his biblical estimate that women were created for theconfusion of man. 

Skippy's prejudice was of long root. From an early age he had beenafflicted with sisters; one older and one younger, and he could find nomitigating circumstances between the sister who could hit you and couldnot be hit back, who never romped without pretending to howl, and thesister who put you at your ease when you had tripped over the parlorrug, by asking publicly:

"John, have you washed _behind_ your ears?"

The thought of girls was inalienably connected in his memory withunnecessary washing up; with boring parties; with stiff collars; withunending polishing of shoes; humiliating walks down the avenue, stammering, idiotic phrases, while from every window the eyes ofmalicious friends were set in mockery. Girls never slid down thebanisters or fell out of apple trees, or snapped garter snakes, orraised white mice or collected splinters coasting down the icehouseroof. Girls were always spruced up and shining; always covered with pinkribbons and waiting for callers; always dressing and undressing; alwayskissing their worst enemies in public instead of giving them a dig inthe ribs or treading on their toes and whispering under their breath:

"Wait till I catch you outside; I'll tear the hide off er yer!"

Girls spoiled vacations. It was on account of girls, to give themsomething to do, that dancing schools were invented; that pews inchurches were stiff and uncomfortable; that ministers stormed andthreatened until the hour hand had gone its round. In a word, whereverlife was drab, or stiff, or formal, wherever prohibitions intervened tocheck the young impulse, wherever the policing principle showed itself, at the bottom somewhere the feminine sex must be the cause. 

Gradually, of course, some mitigation came to this inveterate contempt;gradually he did begin to distinguish between girls as such and women. He saw that some such line of demarcation must be drawn but it was stillconfused and hazy. Later on it was undoubtedly true that woman must playsome part in a man's life; this much he gathered from novels and theways of those giants to his imagination, the great Turkey Reiter andCharlie de Soto. 

Undoubtedly in the long process of evolution from the clam to thestripling, morality was the contribution of the imitative monkey periodeach boy passes as he merges towards perfect manhood. A thousandsupplications, commandings, and exhortations cannot accomplish what thespectacle of a Turkey Reiter or a Charlie de Soto or a Dink Stoverinstantly achieves in its casual Olympic passing. Such, with all duerespect to the efforts of secondary education, are the real moral forcesof youth. 

When therefore Skippy had made choice of his heroes and slavishly sethimself in imitation, he had been unpleasantly disturbed by theirevident friendliness to the sex he despised and after much mentalperturbation perceived that sooner or later he, too, would share thecommon lot and actually take pleasure in explaining to something pinkand white, with large rolling eyes and smiling teeth, that the game ofbaseball is played with a ball and a bat and that the fielder and notthe batter is chasing the ball, that the difference between baseball andfootball is that a baseball hurts the hands and a football hurts thefoot. 

Some day when he grew to be Captain of the Eleven like Dink Stoverundoubtedly he would condescend to be gazed at and flattered andfondled. If Dink Stover could stand the way Tough McCarthy's sister hungon his arm and flirted openly before the whole school--why of course inpermitting such a display of affection Dink Stover was right, for DinkStover could do no wrong. Some day, then, like his hero, he wouldcondescend to be adored. Some day his turn would come as they sang atthe immortal Weber and Fields:

 "For I must love some one, And it may as well be you. "

But all this was in the uncharted future. His attitude toward the sexwas still the attitude of normal soap-defying boyhood, defensive andbelligerent. Yet all this was to change, in the twinkling of an eye, inone short season. The first great disillusionments of youth were at handand woman with the mask of sympathy and understanding waiting to fashionthe man out of the urchin. By what ways, ludicrous and tragically comic, this sentimental progression was achieved is here set down in reverentreminiscence. 

CONTENTS

 PREFACE PAGE

 Likewise a Declaration of Principles vii

 CHAPTER

 I Fate in a Bathtub 1

 II Birth of an Idea 7

 III Macnooder Opens Vistas 10

 IV Loneliness of Great Men 16

 V The Golden Shower 21

 VI Methods of a Financier 26

 VII Tragedy 37

 VIII When Friends Prove False 40

 IX Snorky as a Lady-Killer 51

 X Love Lightly Considered 59

 XI The Demon of Jealousy 62

 XII All's Well That Ends Well 70

 XIII A Woman of the World 74

 XIV The Plot Against the Mosquito 83

 XV The Tennessee Shad Suspects 94

 XVI Experiments in Fragrance 99

 XVII Soap and Sentiment 110

 XVIII Love Comes Like the Measles 118

 XIX The Urchin Begins to Bloom 127

 XX The Heart of a Brunette 135

 XXI Worldly Wisdom of Skippy Bedelle 145

 XXII Girls as an Epidemic 151

 XXIII The Blonde of the Species 160

 XXIV Result of a Brother's Advice 169

 XXV Antics of a Talking Machine 175

 XXVI Containing Some High Melodrama 183

 XXVII Hickey in a Deadly Rôle 194

 XXVIII Sitting It Out 200

 XXIX Dead Game Sports 206

 XXX Experiments in a Dress Suit 214

 XXXI Shirt Studs as Cupid's Messenger 222

 XXXII Living up to an Angel 230

 XXXIII Sudden Interest in the Bible 242

 XXXIV The Way of the Transgressor 248

 XXXV The Scalp Hunter 257

 XXXVI Splashing With Your Toes 275

 XXXVII Skippy Retires With His Scalp 279

 XXXVIII The Philosophical Attitude 289

 XXXIX Love Plus Hippo 305

 XL Reality Minus Hippo 312

ILLUSTRATIONS

 They walked in silence, oppressed by the greatness of their grief _Frontispiece_

 PAGE

 Instantly the air was filled with flying sponges 4

 "Good gracious!" cried Miss Dabtree with an impetuous lunge towards the point of attack 78

 "Really, Jack, I'm beginning to suspect you're an old hand. " 140

 He balanced carefully, stretched out one arm to encircle an imaginary waist 172

 The partner of his arms, escaping, rolled over towards Tootsie 182

SKIPPY BEDELLE

CHAPTER I

FATE IN A BATHTUB

THERE comes a moment when without warning boy and puppy instantaneouslypass into the consciousness of manhood. With the young canine it comeswith the first deep-throated defiance of the intruder, the instinct thatthe wriggling, fawning days are over and that the moment to attack andaccept attack has arrived. With the human puppy the change is moreelusive. To some it comes with the first clinging splendor of longtrousers, to others with the first hopeless love, when at the tragic ageof fifteen the world, fate and the disparity of ages intervene. Butusually this transformation, all in the twinkling of an eye, from thehungry slouch of boyhood into the stern and brooding adolescence, comeswith the discovery of a controlling idea. Without any apparent cause, some illuminating purpose descends on the imagination, the future opens, and in the vision of a future Napoleon, a P. T. Barnum, a millionaire ora predestined genius the man emerges. 

When Skippy Bedelle at the age of fifteen years and three months, in thewarmth of early Spring, rambled across the green stretches to hisappointed rendezvous with Compulsory Bath, he went as a puppy sidles toan undetermined purpose, with a skipping, broken motion, occasionallyhalting for an extra hitch at the long undisciplined trousers. A caprode on the straw-colored shock of hair which hung like weeds over thefreckled, sharp nose and the wide and famished mouth. Once the ideaoccurred to him to turn a cartwheel, and he promptly landed sprawling onhis back, picked himself up, skipped forward a dozen steps, stooped totighten a shoe lace and arrived breathlessly before Doc Cubberly, whowas eyeing him, watch in hand. 

Thirty seconds later he was contemplating the tips of his toes from thewarm and delicious water, yielding to the relaxing ecstasy of pleasantday dreams. He had no quarrel with water as such, though from principleand to remain regular he rebelled against the element of compulsion, butwater, particularly warm water, brought him a quickening of theimagination. 

Now between water as such and bath, particularly compulsory bath, is allthe difference between the blue freedom of the sky and the allottedbreathing space which is enclosed in a cage. There was somethingpeculiarly humiliating and servile in being forced to soap and waterthree times a week under penalty of having your name read out before atittering schoolroom--_Absent from Bath!_ It vaguely recalled medievaldays and such abominations as the inspection of ears and the pryingintrusion of governesses!

Skippy was aware of all this and publicly voiced his indignation at thedespotic practice. To have done otherwise would have been to draw down astorm of ridicule. There are certain traditions in school life as firmlyestablished as the doctrine of infant damnation in the good old days oftheology. Secretly, however, Skippy adored the first warm contact of thetentative toes, the slow ecstasy of the mounting ripple over the sinkingbody and the long, drowsy languor of complete submersion. It was theapotheosis of happiness when all the aches and vexations of the daydisappeared in a narcotic reverie, when he could forget the scorn of theRoman, flunking him; the jibes of Slugger Jones, the rigorous disciplineof Turkey Reiter and the base ingratitude of Dennis de Brian de BoruFinnegan, who had refused him the price of a jigger, with pockets thatbulged with the silver he had loaned him. 

"Well, I'll be jiggswiggered!"

Skippy looked up hastily to perceive the unwashed features of SlopsBarnett peering over the partition in set disapproval. 

"Hello, Slops!"

[Illustration: Instantly the air was filled with flying sponges. _Page4_]

"What are you doing that for?"

"Doing what?"

"Getting into it, " said Slops in an angry whisper. "You're a nice one, you are!"

Slops' method of rebellion, which antedated the hunger strike, was tosubmit to a superior authority so far as outward appearances required. But once safely behind a locked door, he employed the minimum of tenminutes in simulating the bathing process by immense disturbances in thebathtub, produced without recourse to disrobing processes, whilegleefully chanting:

 "Mother may I go out to swim? Yes, my darling daughter. Hang your clothes on a hickory limb But don't go near the water! Don't go near, don't go near, don't go near the water!"

Publicly Skippy stood pledged to this uncompromising defiance of thePowers That Be, so with Slops Barnett's accusing glance on him, heanswered hastily:

"I caught an awful cold and got to steam it out!"

"Faker!"

"Honest, Slops. "

At this moment a dripping sponge came spinning through the air andstruck the young irreconcilable squarely between the shoulders. 

"If Pee-wee Davis threw that sponge I'll skin him alive, " announcedSlops wrathfully. Instantly the air was filled with flying sponges. Towels, like dripping comets, passed and re-passed, while Doc Cubberlycame hobbling in, threatening, imploring and dodging stray missiles. 

Skippy, safe below the surface, watched this bombardment swing overhead, die out and silence return. One by one his fellow prisonersemerged, vociferous, hilarious, and passed moist and voicingimprecations into the outer region. Still Skippy continued gorgeously tosteam and doze. 

Then a sharp rat-tat-tat on the door. 

"Mr. Bedelle?"

"Hello, Doc!"

"Time's up. "

"All right, almost dressed. Coming fast. "

The crucial moment had arrived, the tragic end to all happiness below, that inevitable moment when he must, by some supreme exercise of thewill, rise out of this blissful warmth and stretch a reluctant armthrough the chilly air to let in the cold water. End of dreams and chillreturn of reality! He temporized. A second time Doc Cubberly's slidingstep arrived. 

"Mr. Bedelle--Mr. Bee-delle!"

"Just buttoning on my collar, Doc!"

For the hundredth time, one foot slowly emerged and five over-civilizedtoes sought in vain to turn the round faucet labeled "Cold. " A hundred, yes a thousand times, he had attempted the apelike expedient before thefinal mental determination to rise out of the warm spell into the frigidair. 

"Gee, if I could only turn that with my foot, " he said. "Lord, what acinch that would be!"

He tried a last ineffectual time, jerked up precipitately, shot out hisarm, let in the cold water and dodged back below the surface. 

CHAPTER II

BIRTH OF AN IDEA

TEN minutes later he sidled out of the bath and, having balanced DocCubberly's Grand Army hat on the gas jet, and simulated an attack onTippy, the black and tan, escaped before the guardian of the bath couldreturn to the rescue of his pet. 

"All the same, you ought to be able to work a bathtub with your foot, "he said as he went skipping towards the village with heightenedappetite. "Gee, that _would_ be scrumptious!"

Suddenly a queer thought came to him. After all--why not? All you neededwas a foot regulator, to let in the hot and cold water gorgeously, atyour ease and inclination! Foot regulators! Why not? There was somethingin that idea surely. 

"Gee, what a cinch that _would_ be!"

If man in his age-old struggle with nature could harness the force ofsteam to his service and ride the air, why should he not be master ofhis daily comforts?

"I don't think a foot regulator would be so ding fired hard to invent, "he said, meditating. 

The idea had begun to work, though as yet the vast scale had not openedto his tender imagination. Now in youth when an idea begins to grow itbrings sharp animal appetites. To contemplate properly this newentrancing thought, he repaired to that first station on the hungerroute, which was known as Laloo's Kennels, where fragrant hot dogs senttheir tantalizing invitation from bubbling tins. 

"Two ki-yis and easy on the mustard. "

Mr. Laloo prospered because Mr. Laloo dealt on a strictly cash basis. Hewas languidly tired. One foot rested on a soap box, one arm rested onthe upholstered divan he had exchanged with the late Hickey Hicks for ahot dog a day in the lean month of December, and his head drooped overthe supporting toothpick. Mr. Laloo never made an unnecessary motion oruttered a superfluous word. So he continued without apparent notice toconserve the feeble energy which ran low in his burnt-out eyes. 

Skippy looked at Laloo and understood. Freshmen might argue but even theTennessee Shad wasted no time in producing the coin. There was exactlyten cents in Skippy's pocket after the most painstaking search revealedthis last ray of hope in the lining of the threadbare pocket. Only tencents to stop the deficit in his stomach! The choice was difficult. There was ginger-pop at Bill Appleby's, and jiggers at Al's, pancakes atConover's, and the aching void within him knew no prejudice orlimitations to its hospitality. He hesitated, but the fragrance in theair was maddening--besides there was always the chance of a friend infunds. He fingered the coin regretfully and laid it on the counter witha heavy heart. He might argue with Bill and plead with Al, but Laloo hadthe soul of a pawnbroker. 

"There's the bank roll, pick out the fat ones!"

Five minutes later, with his nose buried in a fragrant sandwich, elbowson the counter, he returned to The Great Idea. Suddenly the sublimity ofthe conception smote him. Think of lolling languidly under the surfaceand regulating the temperature at will with only the exposure of a foot!Think of the gain to humanity in the added daily comfort! The idea wasstupendous, colossal! It beat even Dink Stover's famous Sleep Prolonger, the Alarm Clock, which automatically closed the window and opened thehot air register at the designated hour. And out of the world, out ofthe whole human race, present and past, he, John C. Bedelle, was thefirst to stumble upon this revolutionary fact! An accident? Perhaps--butso was Galileo's discovery of the telescope an accident. When thegnawing appetite had been placated (somewhat placated, but notconvinced), the Skippy Bedelle who descended Laloo's steps, with graveand thoughtful face, had emerged from the warm skin of the urchin, withthe consciousness of manhood's call to service. 

CHAPTER III

MACNOODER OPENS VISTAS

TO Skippy's credit be it recorded that the first impulse washumanitarian. For the second was distinctly mercenary. But then Skippylived in a materialistic age and Skippy's father owned a departmentstore. Yet the practical and profitable possibilities did not proceedfrom any inward contamination of the generous impulse of invention, butfrom contact and suggestion. At Bill Appleby's, where he wandered inhungrily, in a desperate hope of meeting some friend whose memory couldbe jogged by reference to past favors, he perceived the celebrated DocMacnooder in earnest conclave with Appleby, to whom he was offering tosell the Lawrenceville rights of his latest invention, the FoldingToothbrush. Given Bill Appleby's natural canniness, and Macnooder'shypnotic eloquence, the discussion was apt to be long and difficult, soSkippy hovered at a respectable distance with ears at attention. 

At this time, due to a rift in the lute (a little matter of expertaccounting on a joint operation), the firm of Macnooder and theTennessee Shad had been dissolved and each financier had assumed anindependent and belligerent attitude. The Shad had a certain adroit anddevious imagination, but the practical mind was Macnooder. His point ofview was purely economic. Hickey might plan the daring manoeuvre whichmade the conquest of the clapper possible, and revel in the faculty'samazement at the sudden silence of the tyrant will. Macnooder would haveproceeded to capitalize this imagination by fabricating clapper watchcharms and selling them at auction prices. The Gutter Pup might organizethe sporting club in memory of the lamented Marquis of Queensberry;Macnooder sold the tickets and extinguished the surplus. His ambitionwas not to be a philosopher, or a benefactor. He announced openly thathe intended to be a millionaire, and among his admiring victims therewas much speculation as to just how far he had gone in theaccomplishment of his heart's ambition. 

When Skippy moved into an eavesdropping position, the situation wasthis: Bill Appleby, having carefully closed and locked the cash drawer, was braced with both arms extended against the counter, eyeing Macnooderwith a look of steely negation that expressed a settled conviction todoubt instantly any statement whenever or however made. Macnooder'sround capuchin body was drawn up in confidence and ease and the smile onhis face was bland as he remarked:

"Bill--get my proposition; let it percolate, sift down and settle. But, Bill, make no mistake. The Macnooder Folding Toothbrush is afact--patented and financed! I'm not asking you to take stock, --no, Bill, no. " He shook his head and said with friendly regret--"I couldn't, Bill; not in fairness to myself--not in fairness to my family. Why, Bill, if you were to get in on the ground floor, you'd buy a yacht infive years, live on Fifth Avenue and marry Lillian Russell. "

"Go slow, " said Appleby huskily, for Appleby was a bachelor. 

"Well, watch _me_, " said Macnooder with a wave of his hand that playedamong the rubies and emeralds floating in his imagination. "Bill, I'dlike to put you in--I can't--that's flat. I can't! Why, Bill, if you putyour hand in your pocket this moment and took out that little greenwallet of yours and said: 'Mr. Macnooder, this is your account--it'snothing--I dismiss it, I tear it to pieces--you are my guest from nowon; let's start right;--what will you have?' If you should say that--"

"I won't!" said Appleby, shrinking from the hypnotic caress in thefinancier's manner. 

"If you should do that _and_ should take out a nice new one hundreddollar bill--you have one, Bill, right in that old leather wallet--don'tshrink, Bill, your alarm pains me--if you, now, here in Lawrenceville, New Jersey, John C. Green Foundation, should produce that one hundreddollar bill--slap it on the counter, shove it into my face, force itinto my pocket, beg me to give you a little interest--_no_! No, Bill, no! I'd refuse--I'd _have_ to refuse. Don't build up any false hopes, Bill, don't. "

"I won't, " said Appleby, yet already a sense of great personal loss hadbegun to invade him. 

"All I can let you in on are the regional rights--the Lawrencevillerights--for ten years. I might, I don't say it flat, --I want toconsider, --but I _might_ extend them to Princeton. It's a gift, but Imight. And do you know why I'm giving you this opportunity of alifetime?"

"Why, Doc?"

"Because, Bill, I don't want to break you. I don't want to have to runyou out of business. That's friendship, but there's more. I can useyou, " said Macnooder magnanimously. "You have the qualities I shall needin my future operations--I suffer from them now but I appreciate them. You will make an ideal watchdog of the dollar, and when the dollarleaves your hand, Bill, there won't be a rim left to it. Bill, let's dobusiness--it's more than just the toothbrush, it's a whole future's opento you. Bill, the moment is yours. Choose! Fifth Avenue, a yacht, box atthe opera--Lillian Russell!"

Appleby fumbled in his pocket and drew out a cigar to break the spell, and the hand that held the match trembled. 

"Wall, now, " he began cautiously, "to-morrow's to-morrow, andtoothbrushes is toothbrushes. And say--gettin' down to tacks--who in SamHill ever wanted a folding toothbrush, nohow?"

Macnooder's fist descended on a shivering glass counter as he criedtriumphantly:

"Say that again!"

"Wall, who does want a folding toothbrush?" said Appleby, in a morebellicose manner. 

"Bill, your hand!" said Macnooder, matching the gesture to theexclamation. "Straight to the point. Keen--Gad, you're devilishly keen!That's you, Bill, no one can beat you at seeing the kernel at once! Whowants a folding toothbrush? No one!" said Macnooder, folding his armsand beaming with delight. "Is there any reason any one should? There isnot. Can you imagine anything more unnecessary, idiotic or useless thana folding toothbrush? Don't try--you can't. That's the beauty of it. But, Bill, make no mistake--that's where you get the heterogeneoussucker! Has there ever been a folding toothbrush! Never! That's wherethey bite! Think of it--no one's ever had one before. How do they knowwhether they want one until they've tried it? They've had a bicycle or akodak, but a _folding toothbrush_, Bill--think what it means! Get thesound of it. Why, Bill, it's sunk into your imagination already! You'vegot the hankering yourself. You have. I can feel it!"

"Wall, now, I would sorter like a squint at one. "

"And you shall, " said Macnooder, reaching into his pocket. But at thismoment he stopped, perceiving Skippy, who, lost in wonder, waslistening, all ears. 

"I beg your pardon, Doc, honest, I couldn't help hearing, " he saidhastily. 

"This is a private conversation, " said Macnooder severely. 

"I say, Doc, " said Skippy, gazing at the package which had come forthfrom an inner pocket, "I say, Doc, can't I just have one look at it?"

"You can _not_, " said Macnooder, whose hand indicated the exit in theclassic gesture of melodrama when the cruel father dismisses thepenniless lover. 

Skippy drew a long breath, hesitated and went slowly out. But what aworld had opened before him! It was something to be a benefactor ofhumanity, but why not tap the wealth of the Incas! If the mere inventionof a folding toothbrush could open the sacred precincts of Fifth Avenue, what realms beyond the dreams of avarice were waiting for him who shouldrevolutionize the bathtub!

CHAPTER IV

LONELINESS OF GREAT MEN

THE course of his meditations suddenly halted before the Jigger Shop. They were all there; the fortunate possessors of dimes and nickels, gluttonously, selfishly gorging themselves with juicy creamy strawberry, coffee, and chocolate jiggers; clinking their glasses, licking theirspoons--and he, John C. Bedelle, the future Bathtub King, without a centin his pockets! The irony of it! If they only knew, what sycophantswould fawn upon him! Then an idea came to him--at such moments alone canman read the secret heart of humanity. He would make a test of truefriendship. 

He passed through the outer rapturous fringe of hungry boyhood andslowly approached the counter where Al, guardian of the jigger, dishedout the jiggers and watched the counters with uneasy eye. Not that hehad any hope, but it was only fair to give even the most abandoned ofmankind a sporting chance. 

"Hello, Al!"

"I see you, Skippy. "

The tone was not encouraging. Bedelle determined on direct methods. Heturned his pockets deliberately inside out. 

"You see?"

"Oh yes, I see you. "

"Anything doin'?"

"Nothing doin', " said Al, stroking his corn-colored mustache with thatlanguid finality against which there was no appeal. "Nothin' at all. "

"He has had his chance, " said Bedelle to himself in gloomy pride. Yes, Al had had his chance, that one chance that comes unwittingly to everyman--Al who might have toured the world with him as his majordomo, orhis confidential valet. 

"Hello, Dennis!" he said, perceiving back of an enormous chocolateéclair the human anaconda famine and opportunity had at this moment madeof Finnegan, the discoverer of the double adjective. 

"Hello yourself!"

"How's the bank account?" said Skippy lightly, for etiquette forbade anyreference to the half-dollar parted with on the Wednesday before. 

"Why, bless my immortal soul, you old rambunctious, skippingZockarooster, are you setting them up?" said Brian de Boru, pretendingto misunderstand. 

Skippy disdained a reply. Al, after all, was but running true to form, but this was the basest ingratitude, --the serpent's tooth in the fairlandscape of friendship. 

"If he'd at least offered to share that éclair I--I could--" said Skippyto himself, and then stopped in silence before the future Finnegan hadthrown to the winds. For he liked Dennis and Dennis _would_ have madesuch an ideal publicity man. 

He passed like a poor relation at a wedding feast, and as he passed withmany a stammered hint, and eloquently pleading eyes, his faith in hiskind began to ooze away. Of course it was the end of the month, yet oftwenty friends who had fed from his hand, when his hand had beenhospitable, not one stirred to the commonest of human impulses. And sogloomy, alone and misunderstood, like the young Napoleon at Brienne, John C. Bedelle, with the consciousness of future greatness, moved outfrom the uncomprehending crowd. At the door Toots Cortrelle arrived withunmistakably jingling pockets, and seeing him, cried with the zest ofyoung hunger certain of gratification:

"Hullo, Skippy, old sockbutts!"

"Couldn't lend me a quarter or a dime, could you?" said Skippy solemnly. 

"Why not?"

"You can, Toots--you can, honest?"

"With ease and pleasure. This is the way it is done, " said Toots, whoproceeded to transfer a quarter from his pocket to the astounded Skippy, with the classic manner of a prestidigitator. 

"What's happened?" said Skippy, feeling that the situation demanded someexplanation. 

"Maiden aunt and birthday, " said Toots joyfully. "Al, take Mr. Bedelle'sorder and make mine a triple jigger, coffee with chocolate syrup!"

When ten minutes later, gorged and sated, with his faith in humanitysomewhat restored, Skippy separated from his benefactor, he turned toToots and said solemnly:

"Old friend, I shall remember this!"

"All right--turn about's fair play. Ta-ta and so long, " said Cortrelle, all unsuspecting of the future Destiny had built up for him. 

"Yes, some day I _shall_ remember, " said Skippy solemnly to himself. Andas he trudged back to his room at the Kennedy, there to map out thefuture operations of the Bathtub Trust, he allowed his imagination todwell delightfully on that momentous future date when the debt offriendship should be paid. He saw himself in a gorgeous marble-linedoffice, protected by an outer fringe of obsequious secretaries, a box ofexpensive cigars on his shining mahogany desk, and before him inrespectful attention Toots Cortrelle, now grown a man, but worn andwasted with the buffeting years, and he saw the light of hope spurtingupward in the tired eyes as he heard himself saying:

"Cortrelle, once long ago, you did something I told you I shouldremember. You have forgotten it. I never forget. For that I am going toput you in charge of my whole South American trade at a salary--" HereSkippy paused somewhat perplexed before continuing, awed at his ownmunificence--"at a salary of over _three thousand dollars_ a year!"

But just as Toots with tears in his eyes was starting to grasp his hand, Skippy's foot tripped over a step and he rolled ignominiously down theterrace and fetched up in a heap among the gravel. 

"Oh, please do it again!" said the voice of Snorky Green from an upperwindow. 

"You go to blazes!" exclaimed Skippy, rising wrathfully. But all at oncehis anger left him. Snorky Green was his roommate and partner of hissecrets, and the secret that had been locked up within him these lastmomentous hours simply had to be told. 

CHAPTER V

THE GOLDEN SHOWER

TEN minutes later Snorky Green was standing in a daze, one hand on anopen Bible, --taken for the occasion from the room of the PinkRabbit, --and gazing into the flushed countenance of his roommate, whowas saying:

"Snorky, are you a Christian?"

"Say, what do you--"

"No matter--you believe in God!"

"Sure I do. "

"Then swear!"

"Swear what?"

"Swear never to reveal to man, woman or child what I am about todisclose to you. "

"I swear!"

"As I am a Christian and believe in God. "

"As I am a Christian and believe in God. "

"And if I do may God strike with his afflictions those I love best--"

"Oh, I say--"

"Say it. "

Snorky reluctantly subscribed to this terrible oath and five minuteslater the Secret was his. 

"Great Jehosophat!"

"Do you see it?"

"Do I see it?" Snorky tore from his throat the collar that was stiflinghim. "My aunt's cat's pants!" he said solemnly. "Skippy, we'll bebillionaires!"

"We'll buy a yacht and live on Fifth Avenue, " said Skippy, who forsentimental reasons suppressed any reference to Lillian Russell. 

"Say this is so big we've got to take every precaution, " said Green, whose imagination was on more practical lines. "No one must even suspectuntil we've got this drawn up and patented. "

"That's what worries me. "

Snorky Green cautiously opened the door and investigated the hall, thenreturning drew up his chair and said in a confidential whisper:

"Skippy, when this goes through every bathtub in the country will go inthe scrap heap. Think of that!"

"I have thought of that. "

"It'll do what the pneumatic tube did to the bicycle. "

"What the trolley did to the horse-car!"

"It's revolutionary. "

"It is. "

"Enormous!"

"Stupendous!"

They shook hands and Skippy, bursting with happiness, said impulsively:

"Old friend, whatever I make--you're down for half. "

"No, no. Two-thirds to you--one-third to me, " said Snorky, as Cæsarputting from him the proffered crown. 

"I won't have it--share and share alike, " said Skippy in a rush ofemotion. 

"But, Skippy, do you realize what even one-third will mean!" saidSnorky, in a voice trembling with the vision of the future. He wentnervously to the desk and returned with pad and pencil. "Write downthese figures. "

"Ought we to?"

"We'll destroy it afterward. Put down ninety-two million. "

"What's that?"

"The population of the United States. "

"I see--ninety-two it is. "

"Divide that by--by--well let's be conservative. "

"It's better. "

"Let's say there's one bathtub to every fifty-five inhabitants. "

"I think that's too conservative. "

"We mustn't let our imagination run away with us, " said Snorky. "One infifty and then we're safe. "

"Well, let's say two million bathtubs, " said Skippy, who dislikedfigures, and felt the first promptings of avarice. 

"So be it. Two million bathtubs and on every tub our royalty!"

"What'll we ask?"

"What do you suppose a bathtub averages!"

"Say fifty dollars, at ten per cent, --that would be five dollars comingto us. "

"Five dollars, but Skippy, isn't that exorbitant?"

"You forget we'll be in a position to dictate. "

"Holy Maria!"

Under 2, 000, 000 he wrote the figure five and slowly noted the colossalresult. 

"Do you realize what that means?"

"It means ten million dollars!"

"No, it means more than that--it means that if the Bathtub Combine cameto us to-day and offered us a million dollars--it would be suicide toaccept it!"

Skippy's eyes dilated with excitement. Slowly he tore the sheet of paperin two. 

"Burn it--take no chances, " said Snorky, who proceeded to light a match. 

"And that's only the United States, " said Skippy in a whisper. 

"There's Canada and the British Empire!"

"But Englishmen carry rubber tubs with them. "

"They can be educated. "

"The French don't bathe, " said Skippy mournfully. 

"That'll come. "

"Holy cats, Rockefeller won't be in it!" said Skippy, who wassuffocating. "Snorky, what I said goes! Money isn't everything. No--sentiment's bigger. Fifty-fifty, I said, and fifty-fifty itstands!"

"Then I'll put money into it, " said Snorky, offering his hand. "I'll goto my father. But not now--not a word until we get the patent. If anyone gets the idea we're lost!"

Skippy jumped at the sound of Butsy White's elephantine descent of thestairs. 

"And Skippy, " said Snorky Green, with a sudden realization of a man'sfrailties, "whatever you do--never tell a woman. You understand?"

Skippy, whose relations with the opposite sex were of the cat-and-dogvariety, solemnly raised his hand. 

"I swear. "

"Now to be practical. I say, Skippy, we do have to invent the regulator, you know. "

CHAPTER VI

METHODS OF A FINANCIER

WHEN, after a dream-ridden night, Skippy started across the campus tomorning chapel, the urchin's wabble had gone from his legs forever. Hemoved with firm and measured tread, shoulders thrown back and headerect, every inch a man, and his glance was set into the future withproud recognition of his place in the complex scheme of things. Theimagination, which returns after the sense of humor, was still drowsywith the painful waking effort in chapel, but as he proceeded toMemorial Hall, the glittering future approached a little nearer. Someday he, John C. Bedelle, would return to the old school a patron and abenefactor!

"They ought to have a gymnasium, " he thought, appraising the campus in aburst of generosity. "I'll give it to them. I'll give them a gym that'llbeat anything hollow. I'll give them the finest architect in thecountry. I will! And when it's all built and ready to dedicate--" Butall at once as he started to visualize himself before the applaudingcrowd Snorky Green jogged his elbow:

"Skippy--Gee, I've got it!"

"What?"

"Sh--sh! You know--the invention! Meet me in the room after firstrecitation. Mum's the word!"

A little unworthy feeling of jealousy came to Skippy at thisannouncement; almost a feeling of having been defrauded. Yet after allhe had only himself to blame. The temptation of the future had beguiledhim from the present necessity. He slid into his seat, convenientlyprotected, by the broad back of Tubby Banks, from the searching gaze ofLucius Cassius Hopkins, better known as the Roman, who presently wouldnumber him among the flunked. Then when the attack centered among theR's and S's, across the room, he drew forth a pencil and attacked theproblem of a practical foot regulator. But immediately the deplorabledeficiency of his education struck him. What preparation had he for hislife's vocation? Of mathematics he knew absolutely nothing! Thepriceless years had been squandered on mere Latin, English prose, Frenchverbs and the vexing grammars. 

"I must have a scientific education, " he said, drawing rough outlines onthe margin of Cæsar's Gallic Wars. "How in the deuce am I to begin? Afoot's sort of different. Shall I make it a button to press on or a sortof slipper to push up and down?"

There was a cut of the famous bridge across the Rhine, but a hurriedexamination brought him no comfort. He looked over at Snorky across theaisles and Snorky winked back at him in the triumph of achievement. Still if Snorky was to share in the fabulous returns it was only rightthat Snorky should contribute to the practical details! The truth isthat Skippy in calmer mood had already begun to regret the impulse ofthe day before. Five million dollars after all was a good deal to giveaway in a gesture, even to the chum of chums!

"What the deuce got into me?" he thought gloomily. Until that moment thesinister corruption of money had been foreign to his nature, but all atonce a change came to his outlook. "Gee, even a third would have been a_whale_ of a sum!"

He rose and flunked horribly in an attempt to classify an ablativeabsolute and answered "unprepared" when the Roman, maliciously pressinghis advantage, insisted on his translating. Then with sulky dignity hestrode to the blackboards with the B's and C's and the D's and flunkedonce more on the conjugation of an irregular verb. What time was thisfor trivial annoyances when his whole soul was rent with the thought ofthe millions which he had squandered for a moment's sentimental impulse!He was not ashamed of that impulse, no--but, all the same, Snorky, if hehad had finer feelings, would never have abused his generosity!

"What's the matter?" said the chum of chums, when, recitations over, they had gained the secrecy of their bedroom. "You look positivelybilious. "

"I didn't sleep much, " said Skippy, eyeing him with intuitive disfavor. 

"Well, for Heaven's sake brace up; you look as though you'd swallowed aporcupine!"

"All very well for you to cheer up, " Skippy thought to himself. It hurt, there was no turning from it. It did hurt. What a blunder he had made!

"I could have hired him on a salary, " he thought gloomily. But of coursenow there could be no backing out. 

"Well, now what have _you_ worked out?" said Snorky triumphantly. 

"I? My mind has been concentrating on the business organization. "

"Gaze on this!" Snorky proudly brought forth a diagram which to Skippy'sbewildered gaze looked like the cross section of a switch yard. "Do youget it?"

"What's this?"

"That? Why that's the bathtub, you chump. "

"It doesn't look like any bathtub. "

"You're in it, looking down--see, this is the line of the water. Here'sthe hot and cold--"

"But this and that--"

"That's your legs, of course. You're in the tub looking south. Your legsstick out, don't they, and these are the foot regulators--"

"They look like feet. "

"They are feet--that is, your feet stick in 'em. "

"But how does it work?"

Snorky produced another scrawl. 

"This is a cross section, you see. Works both ways. This you work withyour hands. Then you turn it on here with this catch, and your footregulators come into play--see?"

"It's awfully complicated. "

"Ought to be. "

"Why?"

"'Cause if you just had an attachment to put on the spigots, youmightn't get more than a dollar a tub. "

"He's thinking of the money, " thought Skippy, darkly. 

"You don't seem enthusiastic. "

"No-o--. "

"I say, Skippy, you aren't natural, " said Snorky in alarm. "You don'tlook at me as you used to. What is it? Out with it now. "

"Well, " said Skippy slowly, "I said fifty-fifty and I stick to it;fifty-fifty, because I am a man of my word, but I do think there oughtto be some limit . . . "

Ten minutes later, when Snorky's infectious laugh had restored his senseof humor, Bedelle, Incorporated took up the transaction of businessagain, --the discussion of the profits having by mutual consent beenadjourned to a later session. 

"Skippy, old top, I'm thinking we've got to get expert advice, " saidSnorky after a morning of fruitless discussion. 

"You mean--"

"I mean Doc Macnooder or the Tennessee Shad. "

"I'm afraid so, too. This is bigger than us. "

"It's a hard choice. "

"It is--and we've got to be protected. "

"You bet we've got to be protected. "

"Well, if we must choose between Macnooder and the Shad, which would yourather trust?"

"Trust no one, " said Snorky, finding it impossible to establish thisdistinction. "And say, Skippy, --oaths on the Bible are all right, but ifwe're going to let Macnooder in on this he's got to sign a paper. "

"You betcha!" said Skippy, with whom a little of Bill Appleby's distrustremained. "A paper's the thing!"

That afternoon, after due ceremony, the door was closed and locked andDoc Macnooder inducted into an easy chair. Skippy producing the Biblesaid firmly:

"Doc, you've got to take the oath; never to reveal to man, woman--"

"But I'm a Unitarian, " said Macnooder, examining the St. James version. 

The point was debated and passed over. Snorky then produced a formidabledocument tied in green ribbons with large wax seals, stamped with acameo stick-pin. 

"You'll have to sign this, too. "

"Sign what?"

Snorky read rapidly:

"I, Doc Macnooder, in my third form year, Lawrenceville, New Jersey, hereby testify that on this date, the 12th day of April, 1896, theinformation written on the back of the present sheet of paper wascommunicated to me by John C. Bedelle, the rightful and lawful inventor, and the document does hereby establish all his rights. Signed--"

"Yes, but what's on the other side?" said Macnooder, with risingcuriosity. 

"That can only be communicated to you after your signature. "

Macnooder was wary, but Macnooder was inquisitive. He rubbed his chinthoughtfully and considered. 

"Is Dink Stover in this, or the Tennessee Shad?" he asked cautiously. 

"Not a soul besides us two has the slightest suspicion. "

"All right then--I'll sign. "

"Skippy, you tell--" said Snorky Green generously, "the glory is yours. "

"It's an invention that's got to do with a bathtub, with all bathtubs, "said Skippy, with a sudden faintness of confidence before theprofessional agnosticism which Macnooder, the man of affairs, nowassumed by crossing his legs and donning a large horn-rimmed pair ofspectacles. 

"The word is _bathtub_, " said Macnooder, who not to appear too eager duga knife from his pocket and carefully whittled at the end of his pencil. 

"It's a foot regulator!"

"Aha!" said Macnooder, who didn't understand at all. 

"You see, Doc, what's the matter with all the bathtubs of to-day, " saidSkippy, picking up courage, "your head's at one end and the faucets areat the other--and, that's an awful distance!"

"Good point!" said Macnooder, nodding. 

"Now when you want to let in the cold water you've got to sit up, reachdown and turn it on and that's cold and chilly and drafty as themischief, isn't it?"

"That's a very strong point, " said Macnooder, who began to see. 

"Now, if you could only turn the faucets with your toes, you could liequietly under the hot water, couldn't you? . . . But you can't--but youcould if you had foot regulators. And isn't it the simplest thing inthe world to have foot regulators? Only no one has ever thought of itbefore?"

"Think what it would do to the bathtub industry, Doc, " said Snorky, whofelt the preceding explanation had failed properly to illuminate theepochal quality of the invention. "Why, Doc, we'd have 'em by thethroat. We'd put every bathtub out of existence. The whole dinged systemis fossilized and we'd show 'em up with the first exhibit. Do you seeit, Doc? Do you get the possibilities?"

"At first sound, " said Macnooder, who kept his glance on the end of hispencil, not to reveal how much his imagination had been stirred, "atfirst sound, it interests me strangely. Skippy, --Mr. Bedelle, your hand, and my congratulations. "

"Oh, I say, Doc, " said Skippy, with a lump in his throat, "you really dobelieve in it, don't you?"

"My boy, there are gold mines in it, " said Macnooder, carefully, "thewealth of the Sultan is nothing to it, or--or it isn't worth a pluggednickel. "

Skippy and Snorky exchanged glances of sudden dismay. 

"It's one or the other. That's what I will find out. "

"How'll you do that?" said the roommates, in a breath. 

"I shall write for catalogues first. I may have to conduct a personalinvestigation at the patent office--and of course I must look at allpossibilities. The idea is revolutionary, " said Macnooder, revivingtheir spirits. "Mr. Bedelle, nothing can deprive you of that distinctionand glory. Your fame is secure. But the bank account? Can we protectourselves against pirating? Can the Bathtub Combine avoid in any way, shape or manner, being forced to treat with the owners of the BedelleFoot Regulator? That's what I must carefully consider. Gentlemen, oneweek from to-day I promise you my answer. "

"Then you _will_ take it up, Doc?"

"If everything is all right we incorporate Bedelle, patent the footregulator, organize a stock company, and I shall accept the posts ofPresident and Treasurer, with fifty-one per cent of the stock. "

"Fifty-one per cent, Doc!"

"My invariable terms. The responsibility and the control must be mine. Idon't ask fifty-two per cent, or fifty-three per cent. I ask onlyprotection. Take it or leave it. "

Skippy gazed at Snorky, who pondered a long while, but Macnooder'sprofessional manner sunk deep into their imaginations. 

"You don't trust us!" said Skippy sorrowfully. 

"Business is business!" said Doc, pointing to the documents he hadsigned. "Did you trust me?"

"I sort of expected we'd all go cahoots, " said Skippy reluctantly. 

"Fifty-one per cent, gentlemen, or good day, " said Macnooder pompously. 

"Take it, " said Snorky. 

Skippy drew a long breath. It had been a day of disillusions. Whatmillions had slipped away! Truly the lot of the inventor was hard!

"Well?" said Macnooder, rising and shooting his cuffs. "Is it or is itnot?"

"It is, " said Skippy heavily. 

"And now, gentlemen, " said Macnooder briskly, "I make no promises. Ishall examine the scheme ruthlessly, without sentiment or prejudice--butperhaps, likewise who knows!--Gentlemen, your hands, this moment may behistoric!"

Caught by the sudden inspiration of how history might some day look backto these humble beginnings, with a common gesture they rose and claspedhands. 

CHAPTER VII

TRAGEDY

BEDELLE, Incorporated! John C. Bedelle, The Bathtub King! For adelicious week Skippy sailed into the future on the magic carpet of hisimagination. He dreamed through the long dull hours of recitations; hedreamed when huddled in sweater he watched the scurrying of the baseballcandidates; he dreamed over the prunes at breakfast and the prune whipat night, and in his soft and delicious bed he lay awake for hoursplanning out the disposal of his future wealth. 

The week ended, as all weeks must. At precisely five o'clock in theafternoon, with that fine sense of ceremony that was his, Doc Macnooderknocked at the door and entered. 

"Well!" said Snorky Green and Skippy in joyful chorus. 

"Your hats and follow me!" said Macnooder in his best Dramatic Clubmanner. 

The tone sent a chill down their backs. Silently, already prepared forthe great catastrophe, they filed across the campus, to the Upper House. Not a word had been spoken. 

"We will now proceed to examine the Fourth Form baths, " said Macnooder, in the same lugubrious voice. 

Utterly and instinctively without hope Skippy clutched his roommate'sarm and stumbled down the stairs. Something was coming, something thatmeant the end of all! Macnooder, entering the first bathhouse, flungback the door and pointed to the bathtub. 

"Mr. Bedelle, there is your answer!"

"Jerusalem, the faucets are in the middle!" said Snorky, recoiling witha gasp. 

"The Bathtub Combine has us beat!" said Macnooder. "If we patented theFoot Regulator every bathtub in the country will have the spigotfastened in the middle. "

"Why in Sam Hill didn't you think of that?" said Snorky, turningindignantly on the inventor. He kicked at the offending tub, scowled atSkippy and deserted on the spot. 

"And this is the friend I'd have made a millionaire!" said Skippy tohimself in the bitterness of his trial. 

"You see, Bo?" said Macnooder, descending from his pedestal, as heperceived how the revelation had crushed the younger imagination. 

"I see, Doc. "

"It's no use, is it?"

"No, --damn 'em, they've got us beat!"

"Now, old sport, " said Macnooder kindly, "don't mope about it. Yourideas are all right and I'm here to keep you practical. Better luck nexttime, but be sure and come to me. "

"Thank you, Doc, " said Skippy, through whose dimmed eyes the fatalbathtub seemed to advance like a juggernaut. He escaped and went dizzilyacross the Campus and sat on the steps of Memorial Hall, gazing outgloomily at the dotted recreation fields. The great Bedelle gymnasium, which but yesterday was outlined in splendor against the sky, was nowcinders and dust, Fifth Avenue further off than Africa, and as forLillian Russell--

"Looking all over for you, Skippy, " said a familiar voice. 

Before him stood Toots Cortrelle. 

"Oh, it's you, " he said heavily. 

"Are you flush? I thought if you were--that quarter you know--yousaid--"

"I said I should remember, " said Skippy, with a hollow laugh. There wasjust twenty cents in his pockets that an hour ago had been heavy withmillions. He drew out two dimes and tendered them. 

"Here's the best I can do, Toots. I'll try to get that other nickel toyou to-morrow. "

CHAPTER VIII

WHEN FRIENDS PROVE FALSE

COMMONPLACE minds are crushed by defeat; great imaginations rise toprofit. Ten days after Skippy Bedelle had seen the gilded fabric of hisfuture greatness collapse with the failure of the Foot Regulator torevolutionize the bathtub industry the spirit of invention had risentriumphantly from the ashes of first disillusionment. After all, therewere other services to render to humanity, and the mind that at the ageof fifteen could have reasoned so brilliantly in theory must inevitablyexpress itself with profit to the race and to his own individual bankaccount. 

At first Skippy's depression had been profound, and as the sensation wasnew he enjoyed its sensual charm to the fullest. He discarded the jauntycap for a slouch hat which he pulled down over his eyes; he selected thesoberest of neckwear, turned up his collar, sank his fists in hispockets, and spent solitary afternoons among the ruins of the Carthageof his imagination, seated on the site of what would never be the JohnC. Bedelle Gymnasium. Even the spectacle of Cap Keafer knocking out ahome run in the ninth inning brought him no rapturous exultation. He wasakin to _Ivanhoe_, the disinherited knight, and _Athos_ of the broodingsorrows. The world had receded from him, and nobody cared or noticed. Hewas alone, misunderstood, without a friend in the world. For after whathad happened he could never again feel the same towards that basest ofingrates, Snorky Green. 

 * * * * *

The evening after the collapse of the Bedelle Foot Regulator, Incorporated, there had been a short and exceedingly painful interview. 

"Well, Skippy, old top, " said Snorky, who was genuinely contrite andready to make the advance, "that certainly was hard luck. I feel just asbad as--" Here he stopped before the sudden majestic indignation whichconfronted him. 

"Green!" said Skippy, frowning. 

"Oh, I say--"

"Green, when you thought I was going to be a rich man, " continued Skippyicily, "there was nothing you wouldn't do for me. You fawned on me. Butwhen I had to face defeat--at the first test--you deserted me withsneers and gibes. That is not friendship. Green, you are not capable oftrue friendship, and you have proved it. I shall never forget and Ishall never forgive!"

"Oh, shucks, Skippy!" said Snorky. "What's the use of rubbin' it in? I'mnot as bad as all that!"

"Green, " said Skippy, working himself into the scene which he hadrehearsed a dozen times as he had long debated whether to address theoffender as Mr. Green, "Green, we will have to go on rooming togetherbut I wish you to understand that nothing you can ever do or say willchange my feelings now towards you. Nothing! Whatever communication isnecessary from now on between us, will be in _writing_--"

"What's that?"

"In writing, " said Skippy firmly. 

"Oh, well, if that's the way you're going to take it you can go toblazes!" said Snorky wrathfully. "But before you climb on your highhorse, suppose you restore my red choker tie, my agate cuff buttons, mysilver-rimmed fountain pen and a few pairs of fancy socks--"

"_This_ is unworthy of even you, " said Skippy, who rose and with aperfect social manner took the articles in question from the bureau onthe south side of the room and gingerly placed them on the bureau in thewestern corner. "The socks are in the wash. I prefer to return them as Ireceived them. " After which he disrobed and, somewhat consoled, watchedfrom the coverlets the indignant and bewildered Snorky Green sitting onhis bedside, halfway out of his trousers, glaring at him in rage. 

 * * * * *

For a week, a miserable, lonely week, Skippy held to this irreconcilableattitude. During this time he touched the bottom of depression--he evendoubted himself! Would he ever invent anything again? Had it been just aflash in the pan? Was it all a false start? What had become of theimagination which had blazed up so brilliantly? Perhaps after all he wasno different from the rest--just an average mind fit only for suchvulgar things as banking and trade. Then one morning through the gloomclouds a sudden shaft of sunlight arrived. He had another idea!

He had been lolling deliciously in bed, disdaining to notice the firstharsh summons to rise, and his mind had dwelt enviously on the brilliantfigure of Doc Macnooder. After all, even Doc Macnooder had his failures. There was the matter of the Folding Toothbrush, which all Macnooder'seloquence had failed to market with Bill Appleby. 

"Jingo! That certainly was a bum idea, " he said to himself, somewhatcomforted. "You might do something with a toothbrush, but a folding oneis a joke!"

 * * * * *

All at once he sprang out of bed and, reaching the washstand in a bound, seized the nearest tooth mug. Snorky, who, despite the presentunpleasantness, still trusted his rising instincts, catapulted out ofbed and arrived three seconds later at his side of the washstand, wherethrough still foggy eyes he beheld Skippy gazing at a toothbrush whichhe held reverently before him as a jeweler examines a named stone. 

"What the deuce?"

"Dinged if I haven't got Macnooder beat a mile!" exclaimed Skippy, whoin the first exhilaration of discovery had completely forgotten thecorrespondence acquaintanceship he had imposed. 

"It's about a toothbrush!" said Snorky with great intelligence. 

"You bet it's about a toothbrush. " But here Skippy suddenly remembered, and the smile gave place to a frown. 

"Oh, I say, Skippy! Let's call it off, " said Snorky in a rush offeeling. "It was dead rotten of me and I'm doggone sorry--honest, Iam--but you've rubbed it in enough. "

"Very well, I forgive you and I shall try to forget, " said Skippy, whoalso had chafed under the long silence. 

"What's the great idea?" said Snorky hurriedly. 

"The great idea is a _Souvenir_ Toothbrush, " said Skippy proudly. 

 * * * * *

The idea did not reach Snorky immediately, but he was too diplomatic toshow his disappointment, so he said humbly:

"I suppose it's because I'm a dumb-head, but why a souvenirtoothbrush?"

"Why a souvenir pillow-case? Why a souvenir buttonhook or a souvenirbootjack or a footstool, necktie, lap robe, or anything souvenir?"

"All right, why?" said Snorky, who felt hurt at this assumption ofintellectual superiority. 

"The bootjack doesn't make the souvenir; it's the souvenir makes thebootjack, doesn't it?" said Skippy, who was thinking deeply. 

 * * * * *

Snorky had never heard of the Socratian method, but he was impressed; sonot understanding, he nodded and answered:

"Aha, I see!"

"It's the thing you souvenir that's important. If you want to rememberyou can't remember too often. "

"No-o. "

"And how can you remember better than the first crack out of bed--"

"I get all that, " said Snorky, acknowledging the brilliancy of theargument. "But how the dickens can you make a souvenir out of atoothbrush?"

"My boy--my boy!" said Skippy with crushing contempt. "Have you noimagination? A souvenir toothbrush! Why, easy! Make the handle in theshape of a baseball bat and put the Lawrenceville-Andover score on theback--red and black. "

"Well, I'll be jiggswiggered!"

"You can make 'em in the form of a riding crop for racing sports, mastsfor yachtsmen, sword-blades for the army. Why, it's a cinch! You canhave Lawrenceville shields on the back, Princeton colors, Yale colors. You can do anything, anything with the idea--you can have your bestgirl's initials, or you can have her photograph stenciled on!"

"Sure thing! Why not Mother or Auntie--'when this you see remember touse me!'" said Snorky, who feared where another flight of theimagination might transport his roommate. 

"Green!" said Skippy, flaring up at this destructive levity; but beforehe could deliver his broadside the breakfast gong began to rock thehouse and simultaneously each head ducked into a waiting basin. 

 * * * * *

When Skippy during the relaxation of the morning recitations consideredthe Souvenir Toothbrush he was not so favorably impressed. Snorky'ssuggestion somehow threw a touch of ridicule over the whole propositionand Skippy, like all true imaginations, shrank from ridicule. Undoubtedly if the Souvenir Toothbrush became a fact, mothers andgovernesses _would_ abuse its opportunities. Think of a parental eyegazing admonishingly at you from the back of a toothbrush every morning!Why, the name of Bedelle might become an execration! He saw himselfpilloried among the oppressors of boykind, as unpopular as the compilerof a Latin grammar or the accursed Euclid! No, the idea was unthinkable!Skippy did not reject the Souvenir Toothbrush _in toto_. He bought ablank book on which he inscribed:

 INVENTIONS JOHN C. BEDELLE 1896

On the first page under the day of the month he wrote a fulldescription, adding:

 FIELD LIMITED

 _Suggestion--Hold until later date and patent anonymously. _

Skippy then reluctantly admitted the destructive force of Snorky Green'scriticism of the Souvenir Toothbrush; he admitted it, but he could notforgive him for being right. There are certain things which one does notforgive a brother, a sister, or the chum of chums. 

After all, was Snorky Green worthy of that privileged and exaltedposition? A disturbing doubt began to creep into Skippy's imagination. He passed over the treachery in the matter of the now defunct BedelleFoot Regulator; that might conceivably have been the fault of aninferior temperament. It was the spirit of negative criticism, thesettled habit of turning into raillery the fragile first impulses of hisinventive imagination, that was alarming. 

"Gee! If every time I get a big idea, he's going to knock it in thehead, what's the use of having an imagination?" he said gloomily. 

After all, could a creative temperament yoke itself to a destructivecriticism without self-immolation? Immersed in these broodingforebodings, he came heavily up the Dickinson stairs to the communalroom. Suddenly he stopped, amazed. 

"What the deuce!"

On his bureau a flaming bit of color greeted him from the somber mass ofhis pendent neckties. He advanced and recognized Snorky Green's redchoker tie, which was particularly dear to his young sartorial fancy. Onthe pin cushion lay the agate cuff buttons and the silver-rimmedfountain pen. He opened the top drawer and beheld three pair ofopen-work socks, red, orange and glowing green. 

"Gee, how crude!" he said indignantly. 

At another moment and in another mood his heart might have softened atthis evident peace-offering; but this afternoon, with the new child ofhis imagination slain by Snorky Green's brutal wit, the whole proceedingwas undeniably crude, a bribe too openly offered. He would have toreturn them; that was inevitable and that was of course the last thinghe wished to do. He sat down at his desk, scowling horribly, and then, moved by a fitting inspiration, he seized his pen and dashed off themost frigid and properly insulting of notes. 

 To Arthur E. Green. Goods Returned. 1 Fountain Pen. 1 Pair of Agate Cuff Buttons. 1 Choker Tie (red). 3 Pair of Socks. Kindly acknowledge receipt, Bedelle. 

The last he considered such a master stroke that, his good humorrestored by the anticipation of the infuriating effect on his belovedfriend, he began to whistle a triumphant strain. He made a neat package, pinned the ultimatum on it, and proceeded to the opposite bureau. 

"Well, I'll be teetotally jiggswiggered, " he said, astounded. 

In the oval of the glass, a new photograph had appeared in the companyof the three other smiling feminine beauties which Snorky Green, as aman of the world, displayed by implied right of conquest. Skippy setdown his package and craned forward for a closer examination. 

"Huh! Old enough to be his grandmother, " he said contemptuously, staringat the new victim of Snorky Green's charms. 

But at this moment, hearing a familiar step in the hall, he bounded backin time to assume a nonchalant, bored attitude as Snorky came joyfullyin, exclaiming:

"Hello, old sporting life! What do you know to-day?"

"Green, " said Skippy, drawing himself up and extending an elocutionaryfinger towards the bureau, "you will find something to interest youthere. "

He waited a moment outside in the hall until Snorky's burstingimprecation brought the needed consolation, and then tripped down thesteps, seeking a calming jigger. 

CHAPTER IX

SNORKY AS A LADY-KILLER

"_L'AMOUR a des raisons que la raison connait pas_, " say the French, whoought to know, and the first expansive sentimental affection of a boyfor a chum has also its illogical quality. Now, Skippy adored Snorky andthe affection was returned. He felt that Snorky would die for him, as ofcourse he would lay down his own life for his friend, if they shouldever hunt together in African jungles. He was willing to share Snorky'slast dime, keep his confidences, and fight shoulder to shoulder. Headmired, he respected, he loved Snorky, but for the life of him he couldnot see wherein Snorky Green's peculiar brand of beauty should appeal tothe young feminine eye any more than his own lank frame and sharpenedfeatures. Why should Snorky's glass present four lovely and adoringfeminine faces, while his own should give back only a pointed nosearound which the orange freckles swarmed like flies? True, thelady-killer's wardrobe was of a magnificence which outshone his, butthen socks and neckties and cuff-button jewelry are communalpossessions. 

 * * * * *

Why should Snorky Green then inspire such passions while he passedlonely and unloved? No, certainly Snorky was not beautiful. He had asmudgy, stubby little nose. He was lop-eared and the dank yellow hairfell about his puffy eyes in straight, unrippling shocks. Yet four women(three blondes and a brunette) watched with affectionate glances theprogress of his casual morning toilette. Why?

The next morning, as Skippy reluctantly rose and gazed upon the femininegalaxy waiting at the bureau that was not his, the sense of his owninferiority again smote him. Envy is the corrupting cancer offriendship. He did like Snorky. He yearned for the life-and-deathdevotion of a chum of chums; a sort of Damon and Pythias, D'Artagnan andAthos affair--but, while this sense of inferiority continued, the shadowwas over the fair sunlit landscape of impulsive friendship. It was so, and the feeling would not down. 

That evening, being alone, he stood again contemplating the evidence ofSnorky Green's predatory progress among the ladies. He examined the fourphotographs carefully. 

"They can't all be sisters, " he said gloomily; besides, he knew that hisroommate, more fortunate than he, had to bear but one such cross. "Danged if I can see what gets them. If that fellow's a lady charmer, I'll hire out for a matinée idol!"

On the pin cushion was a pin in the shape of an arrow (an arrow ofcourse suggested a transpierced heart), which Snorky wore for importantceremonies, when he donned a perpendicular collar and a white coachingtie. On the wall was a Farmington banner and on the sofa five pillowsworked by loving feminine hands. 

"Sisters never go to that trouble, " said Skippy, secure in his knowledgeof sister nature. "By the great horned spoon this can't go on. I'veeither got to lick the stuffin's out of him or--"

Without finishing his phrase, he went to the table, drew forth Cæsar's"Gallic Wars, " and a copy of "Lorna Doone" and immediately began toconcentrate. A moment later Snorky Green arrived chuckling from a foraydown the hall where he had just deposited a moth ball in the lampchimney of Beckstein, the Midnight Poler. He came in rollicking andtriumphant, slamming and locking the door against a sudden reprisal. Then, seeing Skippy, he stiffened, scowled, and assumed an air of frigiddignity. Skippy, with his eye on a convenient mirror, followed hismovements expectantly. 

Snorky, having glared sufficiently at the unresponsive back of hisroommate, planted himself in front of him and said angrily:

"Say, what in tarnation is biting you, anyhow?"

Part of the pleasure which Skippy derived from his periodic applicationof ostracism was in the immediate success it achieved on his roommate'simpressionable temperament. At present, being in an exceedingly grouchymood, he drew forth a pad and pencil and tendered them with a plainintimation that only thus would he receive any communications. 

"What are you sore about?" said Snorky, flaring up at once. "Justbecause I took a crack at your old Souvenir Toothbrush? Is that it?"

Skippy drew forth a handy literal translation and ostensibly began toapply it to the baffling text. 

"My lord, you act like a sick girl! You're a pleasant roommate, you are!How long are you going to sulk like this?"

Skippy began to whistle softly to himself:

 "You can't play in my backyard; I don't love you any more. "

Whereupon Snorky, having slammed a book on the table, advanced withdoubled fists, exclaiming:

"You stop that, do you hear! You stop that or--or--I'll--"

Skippy, whose calm was delightfully reinforced by this show of temper, again, but without looking up, indicated the pad and pencil. 

"I can lick you!" said Snorky hoarsely. 

This was too much. Skippy sprang up, fists ready, and glowered hisdefiance. For a long moment they held this bellicose attitude, acollision imminent. But a resort to primitive methods is a seriousaffair between roommates. Each hesitated, seeking a dignified evasion ofthe crisis. 

"Well, go on with your baby act, if you enjoy it, " said Snorkyscornfully. "Lord, I'd hate to have your disposition!"

The status quo having been restored, Skippy discarded Cæsar's "GallicPerplexities" and returned to boyhood's first heroine, while Snorky in arage retreated to his side of the room and pondered. 

"I certainly riled him that time, " said Skippy joyfully to himself. "Wonder what he'll do now?"

After a few moments Snorky began to whistle, meditating to himself, which in boyhood is always a signal that the imagination is working. 

"What's the big idea now?" said Skippy, following from the corner of hiseye. 

Snorky rose briskly and, repairing to his closet, disappeared on allfours. A moment later he returned, with a box of large and juicychocolate éclairs and a bottle of ginger pop, and, establishing himselfat the opposite end of the table, began to enjoy himself audibly. 

"The low-down hound!" said Skippy, writhing on his seat. 

In his calculations, he had completely forgotten the purchase of theafternoon. In turn he rose, delved into the débris of his closet and, returning, spread before his end of the table one tin of deviled turkey(Snorky's favorite), a large piece of American cheese and a bottle ofroot beer. 

It had now become a battle of wits, with each resolved to impress theother with the delicious satisfaction that he was experiencing and eachgazing from time to time at a point directly above the other's head. There were six éclairs. Snorky ate four rapidly, licking his fingerswith gusto after each. 

Then he ate the fifth éclair more slowly and with some effort. Despiteall his self-control Skippy's gaze could not turn from thatlast-surviving member of the chocolate family. He was sufferingtortures, but suffering under a calm and smiling exterior. 

"Hello!" said Snorky suddenly, talking to himself. "I almost forgot. "

He rose and left the room to Skippy and the sixth éclair. Tantalus, amidhis parched seeking of a cooling draught, never suffered more anguishthan Skippy sitting there before that undefended éclair, with only agesture intervening. 

"Of all the mean, dirty, contemptible tricks!" he said angrily betweenhis teeth, revolting at this most treacherous trap. For he must not, hecould not, no matter what the pain he must endure, admit defeat byfalling on that éclair. He rose and went to the window. Certainly he hadbeen mistaken in Snorky; no one who would carry a quarrel to suchfiendish lengths had the largeness of spirit that he had the right todemand in a chum. 

When Snorky returned, he glanced in some surprise at the untouchedéclair. Then he lifted it gingerly, examined it closely to see if itcontained any foreign corrupting matter, and, his appetite restored bythe lapse of time, ate it with smacking relish. 

Skippy, crouched in his chair, ground his teeth and tried to shut outthe tantalizing sounds. Snorky began to hum gaily to himself. Then, proceeding across the direct line of his roommate's vision, he took upthe latest photograph and contemplated it with a little exaggeratedrapture. It was the last straw. Skippy's rage burst forth in a loud andinsulting guffaw. 

"Ha, ha!"

Snorky, to whom the advantage of the situation was now apparent, took upeach photograph in turn and smiled with the pardonable pride of one whoknows his own worth. 

The next moment two books went flying across the room, and Skippy, nowthoroughly infuriated, stood before him, arms akimbo, a sneer on hisdisgusted lips. 

"Don't let me stop you. Go on, kiss it, fondle it. Put it under yourpillow and hug it, you great big mooncalf! Say, why do you come toLawrenceville, anyhow? Why don't you go to Ogontz or Dobbs Ferry?"

Then Snorky, tasting the sweets of revenge, went to the table and, picking up the pad and pencil, presented them to Skippy with a mockingbow. 

Skippy's reply is not to be found even in the most up-to-datedictionaries. Furious at his roommate, the world in general, and himselfmost of all, he shed his clothes and dived into bed. 

"Girls--faugh!" he exclaimed in disgust And, pulling the covers over hishead, he retired to his own ruminations. 

CHAPTER X

LOVE LIGHTLY CONSIDERED

TO understand what Skippy felt one must have known the springs ofboyhood's impulse towards perfect manhood. 

To Skippy a man was that completed being, who wore trousers that neverbagged at the knees, neckties that never slipped below the collarbutton, who displayed a gold watch-chain across a fancy vest, from whoselower lip a cigarette was pendent, who possessed a latchkey and theright to read far into the night, and who shaved once a day. Thesentimental complications had escaped him. Whatever attracted man to thefrizzled, giggling, smirking, smiling bipeds in shirts remained amystery to Skippy. 

All at once he had to face this problem. He had gone resolutely up thesteps towards perfect manhood. He had learned the art of pressingtrousers to a thin razor-edge from Snorky, who was a year his senior inboarding-school knowledge. 

The necktie question was not yet settled, though every morning hesubjected his throat to a strangle-hold. 

He had bought a razor and twice a week, trembling and apprehensive, drewit across his maidenly cheek. He slashed himself fearfully but he didnot mind that. He wore his scars proudly, a warning to all thatadolescence was on him, as the young Heidelberg student flaunts hiswounds. 

The cigarette (known as the Demon Cigarette, the Filthy Weed, and theCoffin Nail) had been a dreadful struggle. But he had won out. 

He loathed the Demon Cigarette as he abhorred tobacco in any form, buthe had martyrized himself until he was able to puff up the cold-air fluein the stilly reaches of the night without having to grope his way backto the bed and watch the room careen about him. He did not inhale, buthe had learned to imitate the process so as to defy detection, as heexclaimed:

"Gee! It's good to fill the old lungs, isn't it?"

 * * * * *

These things, by dint of concentration and courage, Skippy had achieved, not to stand ashamed in the eyes of his roommate. And, having with painand perseverance traveled this far, he suddenly, this night, realizedhow much was still lacking. 

Yes, there was certainly something lacking in his progress towardsperfect manhood, something that Snorky had and he had not. 

It was all very well to be a man, to smoke, to shave, and to haveacquired the sartorial evidence. This was all very well--but othersmust perceive it, too! This was the point. As Snorky had done, he mustdo. 

The new world to conquer was the feminine heart. 

Now, Skippy had not at this moment the slightest inclination towards thelovelier sex. 

He did not aspire to be a Don Juan or a Beau Brummel, but if he were tocontinue to room with Snorky Green he must acquire at least theappearance. He perceived this. It pained him that in the scheme ofthings it should be so--but a reputation he must have. 

"Girls, girls! Lord, how I loathe them!" he said in a last farewell tohis male independence. "What I think of a fellow who hangs around them, wears their rings and pins and carries off their handkerchiefs! But I'llbe danged if I can stand any more of this conquering-hero stuff fromthat eyesore across the room! If it's got to be done, you bet I'll doit! I'll put it over that four-flusher, if I have to fuss every girl inScranton!"

CHAPTER XI

THE DEMON OF JEALOUSY

THE Easter vacation was ended and four hundred overfed, underslept boyshad returned to spread the germs of measles, mumps and tonsilitis amongtheir fellows. Skippy and Snorky, having fallen hilariously into eachother's arms, were proceeding with the important ceremony of theunpacking, while surveying each other with a critical eye. 

"Seems to me you look quite spruced up, " said Snorky when, to be more athis ease, Skippy had shed his coat and stood revealed in all thesplendor of a flaming-yellow buckskin vest, with gleaming brass buttons;then noting the display of jewelry in the red and yellow tie, he added:"Where did you get the fancy stuff?"

Skippy removed his scarf-pin and gazed languidly at the delicate garlandof forget-me-nots. Then he yawned and said:

"I'll tell you about her some day. "

Snorky sat down on his best derby. "My aunt's cat's pants! Have I livedto see it?"

"See what?" said Skippy loftily. 

"You a fusser! Skippy Bedelle wearing a girl's pin! Fan me quick!"

"Just because I haven't boasted about my conquests--" said Skippy, andhe brought forth a little bundle carefully wrapped in a green bandanahandkerchief. 

"What's that?" said Snorky faintly. 

From beneath the protecting folds of the handkerchief appeared a whitesatin frame with hand-painted violets rampant. Out of the violets gazedan adoring pair of eyes. 

"Is that her?" said Snorky. 

"Lord, no! This is only Margot, " said Skippy, who inhaled the fragranceand offered the same opportunity to his chum. "Rather delicate, eh, what?"

"Smells like patchouli, " said Snorky, beginning to recover. 

"Patchouli? Margot? Say, what kind of females do you play around with?My girls drive their own four-in-hands and wear pearls for breakfast. "

"Oh, ex-cuse me!" said Snorky with a mocking courtesy. 

Skippy brought forth a second photograph and placed it on the bureau, and then a third. Snorky, who had begun to sulk, feigned indifferenceand proceeded to range _his_ trophies on the bureau. 

"This'll cheer up the window seat a bit, " said Skippy in the same casualtone. 

Snorky's head appeared above the trunk long enough to watch Skippy withhis arms full of pillows, lace and sweet-scented, scatter them with anonchalant gesture. But when, continuing his manoeuvres, Skippy in thenew revelation produced three banners emblazoned with the insignia offeminine schools, Snorky capitulated to his curiosity and, advancing tothe bureau, stood in open-mouthed wonder. 

"I'll be jiggswiggered! Holy cats and Aunt Jemima! I never would havebelieved it!"

Skippy brought out a fan, spread it, and pinned it affectionately abovethe photograph gallery. 

"I guess that'll hold him, " he said to himself. "Poor old Snorky! I hopehis heart is strong enough. "

"Been doing quite a bit of fussing yourself, " said Snorky with a newrespect. "Why didn't you ever tell a fellow?"

"I never discuss women, " said Skippy, dusting off the fourth photograph. 

"You must have gone the pace, " said Snorky in wonder. 

"Oh, I looked them over quite a bit. "

"But, my lord, Skippy! You can't have loved all of them!"

"Just collecting souvenirs. "

 * * * * *

As a crowning touch, a climax long imagined, plotted and hilariouslyenjoyed in prospect, he next produced, before the bewildered eyes ofSnorky Green, what in school-day parlance is known as a Trophy ofTrophies; an incredible, amazing, inexplicable thing, a tasseled, beribboned, pink and white bed cap! Snorky made a feeble gesture or twoand then lay down to signify that the shock had killed him. 

"Skippy! What does that mean?"

"This also is a thing I cannot discuss, " said Skippy, whose fondestimaginings were outdone by reality. 

"Any more?" said Snorky, struggling weakly upward. 

"That's all, " said Skippy, who was gazing contentedly at the imposingcollection. But all at once he reflected: "Hello, where in the deuce didI put her?"

He pretended to search through his trunk and valise in great concernuntil, Snorky's curiosity having been properly awakened, he suddenlystruck his forehead. 

"Of course. How silly of me!"

And diving into his inner pocket he brought forth a last tribute, encased in neat pink morocco, which he arranged in the unmistakableposition of honor. 

Snorky approached on tenterhooks. The next moment he burst out: "Mimi!"

"What, you know her!" said Skippy, surprised in turn. "Rather cutelittle thing. "

"Look!"

On Snorky's bureau in the same place of honor was an identicalphotograph, a little Japanese brunette, with a descending puff and anascending nose. They stood staring at each other, and the temperature ofthe room seemed to recede towards the freezing point. 

"When did you meet her? How long have you known her, and how the deucedid you get her photo?" said Snorky, with blazing eyes. 

Skippy was in a quandary. A false step might tumble about him theglorious fabric of his new reputation. He went to his bureau andthoughtfully considered the pink morocco case stolen from his sister'scollection. Revenge had been sweet, yet the impulse was still on him. Hedecided that a quick conquest would be the more galling to a rival'spride. 

"Oh, we waltzed about a bit, but I gave her an awful rush. "

Snorky went and sat down in a corner, elbows on his knees, his chin inhis hands. Seeing thus the wreck he had caused, Skippy began to betroubled by his conscience. Suppose it really was a serious affair. Wouldn't it be nobler to surrender the fictitious conquest to hisbeloved friend, to adopt a sacrificial attitude and allow Snorky to goin and win her?

"I say, old boy, I'm awfully sorry; do you really care?"

"For Mimi Lafontaine? For a girl that can't tell a man from a cabbage?Ha, ha!"

All kindly feelings vanished. 

"What's the good of calling yourself names?" said Skippy crushingly. Hepicked up the photograph and smiled at it. "Mimi is a flirt, but she hasher good points. "

"Look here!" said Snorky, rising in sudden fury. "There's one questionhas got to be answered right now. "

"And pray what is that?" said Skippy, resting one elbow on the top ofthe bed and crossing his legs to show his perfect calm. 

Snorky planted himself before the bureau and extended his hand in afurious gesture towards the lace bed cap that now adorned the top. 

"Does or does not _that_ belong to Miss Lafontaine?"

"Any one who would lower himself to ask such a question, " said Skippy, still in a stage attitude, "does not deserve my sympathy. I would havegiven her up. Now I shall keep her. "

"Oh, you think she cares for you, you chump?"

"I do not discuss women. "

The gauntlet had been thrown down and the demon of jealousy took up hisabode with the _ménage_ Bedelle and Green. For a week the comedycontinued, while conversation was reduced to a minimum and transmittedin writing along the lines of Skippy's imagining. Each watched theother's correspondence with a jealous eye. Whenever Skippy received aletter from home, he ostensibly hugged it to his shirt-front and, repairing to a corner, read it furtively with the pink morocco casebefore him. Afterward he would execute a double shuffle across the room, whistle a hilarious strain, and give every facial contortion which couldexpress a lover's joy, while Snorky squirmed and scowled and pretendednot to notice. Snorky in turn retaliated by writing long letters afterhours by the light of a single candle, ruffling up his hair andbreathing audibly. In the morning Skippy, passing towards the washstand, would see on the table a swollen envelope, addressed:

 Miss Mimi Lafontaine, Farmington, Conn. 

These letters troubled him. When a fellow could write over four pages itcertainly must be serious, and these looked as though they held forty. The trouble was that Skippy had begun to believe in his own passion. Thelittle Japanese brunette had become a reality to him. He had talked withher, walked with her, received the avowal of her own uncontrollableimpulse towards him. In fact, at times he almost believed that he hadactually held her in his arms and whirled in the dizzy intoxication ofthe waltzes he had announced. He even was able to feel a real pang ofjealousy, a fierce and contending antagonism against Snorky, whoactually knew her. Such a situation was of course fraught with too manyexplosive possibilities to long endure. Fortunately Fate stepped in andpreserved the friendship. 

CHAPTER XII

ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL

A WEEK after these events, returning on a Saturday morning from the lastvexations of the curriculum with the expectant thrill of the opening ofthe baseball season, Skippy was amazed to receive, by the hands ofKlondike, the colored sweep, a scribbled note in the familiarhandwriting of his sister:

 DEAR JACK:

 Miss Green and I and a party of girls are down for the game. We're at the Lodge. Come right over and bring Arthur. 

 SIS. 

His first emotion was one of horror; had they been up to the room, andwas his duplicity forever at the mercy of a sister's gibes? Klondikereassured him. He bounded upstairs, made a hasty survey, foundeverything in order, and hastily departed for the Lodge, after a quickplunge into the glorious buckskin vest, a struggle into a clean collarand a hurried dusting off of his shoes against the window seat. Hereached the parlors of the Lodge on the heels of Snorky Green, who, being as thoroughly bored by the prospect as he, forgot the week's feudin a common misery. 

"Gee! Aren't sisters the limit?"

"Well, we're in for it. "

"Let's hope they clear out before dinner. "

The next moment Skippy was perfunctorily pecking at the cheek of MissClara Bedelle and pretending to be overjoyed at the prospect of paradingbefore the assembled school with six young ladies in tow. Then he lookedup and something like a cataleptic fit went through his body. 

Directly in front of him, evidently waiting for the introduction, wasunmistakably Miss Mimi Lafontaine! He looked at Snorky and saw the sameexpression of horror over his pudgy features, as he came up, kneesshaking, to be introduced in turn. 

Then to Snorky's distressed soul came the welcome sound:

"Jack, dear, I want you to meet Mimi--Miss Lafontaine. "

To the amazement of sisters and friends, said Snorky, advancing withoutstretched hand:

"Hello, you old Skippy!"

Skippy clung to it as to a spar in midstream. 

"Snorky, old dear--it's all right. "

"It is?"

"You bet it is!"

"What are you idiotic boys doing?" said Sister Green. 

"Shall we tell?" asked Snorky roguishly. 

"Women have no sense of humor, " said Skippy, grinning with a greateasement of the soul. 

At this moment they rose above the vexations of the female intrusion. They looked at each other and each comprehended the other. They wereequals, equal in imagination, in audacity and expedient. This mutualrevelation cleared away all past misunderstanding and jealousies. Thesense of humor was triumphant. They loved each other. 

A half-hour later, having, to the utter amazement of sister No. 1 andsister No. 2, rolled hilariously, arms locked, across the campus, theylay on opposite beds, struggling weakly to master the pangs of laughterwhich smote them like the colic. 

"Are we going to tell our real names?" said Skippy at last. 

"Let's. "

"You know, Bo, you certainly had me going--you certainly did. And allthese months, too! Snorky, I bow before you. "

"Allow me, " said Snorky admiringly. 

"Say! You're all right, but honest now, " said Skippy, pointing toSnorky's bureau and the feminine galaxy, "honest, who are they?"

"Well, of course one's my sister, " said Snorky, grinning. "I swipedthese three and I bought the other with the frame. Say, I'm not worriedabout how you got yours, but what I'd like to know is, who in tarnationbelongs to that boudoir cap?"

"My grandmother, and she's a corker, too!"

They clasped hands and Snorky announced solemnly:

"Skippy, old fellow, let 'em have all their old skirts; there's nothinglike the real thing, the man-to-man stuff, is there?"

"You bet there isn't. "

"And say, I'm sorry about that souvenir toothbrush, honest I am, and Ithink you're a wonder, I do. "

"Oh, that's all right. That's all right, " said Skippy, embarrassed. "There's a lot of money in it, but I guess I prefer to make my pile inother ways. "

CHAPTER XIII

A WOMAN OF THE WORLD

NOW that the Snorky-Skippy friendship had been placed on the firm rockof mutual revelation and all unfounded jealousies swept away by frankconfession, Skippy's imagination returned to the real purpose of life. He was a little ashamed of the time wasted on the opposite sex, even iffor a worthy purpose. Such frailties were all very well for Shrimp Davisand the Triumphant Egghead, who had legs educated for the ballroom, buthe, John C. Bedelle, had other missions to perform in this life whichheld such short years for a man of imagination. 

For several days he sought diligently among the needs of human naturefor something on the grand scale. He tried his hand at aperpetual-motion machine. He thought out a combination submarine andairship which would put the navies of the world at the mercy of hiscountry. He even descended to such trivial abstractions as a ReversibleShirt-Front, which took its due place in the book of inventions underthe following entry:

 REVERSIBLE SHIRT-FRONT

 Argument: Admitted that Reversible Shirt-Fronts are easy to manufacture; what demand would there be for them? Could they be popularized among the working classes? Treat cuffs same way. 

For certain reasons he decided not to discuss this last invention withSnorky Green. These tentative efforts were but exercising hisimagination. He knew it and waited breathlessly. 

But at last, a month after the failure of the Foot-Regulator, thelong-awaited thrill arrived, the thrill which comes only with thepossession of a Universal Idea, and for the first time in his long, untroubled fifteen years, it arrived in conjunction with the intrusioninto his still simple scheme of things of that arch-disturber--WOMAN. 

Miss Virginia Dabtree was not destined to occupy the proud place of thefirst love, though Miss Dabtree (who was Snorky Green's aunt) waseminently equipped for such a position, being eighteen years his seniorand at an age when by instinct, habit, and a need of self-encouragement, any tribute from the opposite sex, no matter how given, caused her notthe slightest irritation. 

Skippy, however, was too completely dazzled by the consummate artistryof Miss Dabtree's clinging toilettes, the built-up luxuriousness of herhair, the pink and white complexion, the stenciled eyebrows, and theLady Vere de Vere attitudes to dare to entertain a personal hope. 

He was dazzled, dumfounded! A new world opened to him. Through her atlast he perceived woman, her place in the now more complex scheme ofthings, the influence she could exert, the stimulus to the imagination, and the answer to his need of some guiding purpose. 

True, Miss Dabtree's age was her protection. She was removed from eventhe flights of his imagination, yet the influence she exerted allunwittingly over his life was inestimable. For it was for her, toprotect her, that he, Skippy Bedelle, conceived his magnum opus, theMosquito-Proof Socks. 

 * * * * *

The hour was eight, the day Sunday, the time the first clear week inJune. They sat together on the porch of the Kennedy, listening to thesound of the Upper House singing rising clearly above the twang ofbanjos across the campus from the esplanade. 

The long twilight had set in, yet the afterglow hung brilliantly aboutthem. Skippy was balanced gingerly on the front edge of a rocker whichswayed perilously under him and added to his general discomfort. Therewas a safe straight-backed stationary chair only ten feet away, but tosave his life he could think of no legitimate excuse for rising andpossessing it. If he leaned back the sharp upright collar, borrowed fromDennis de Brian de Boru Finnegan, cut cruelly into his chin, and when hecraned forward the red choker tie (restored by Snorky in addition to theagate cuff buttons) bulged forth in the most disconcerting andunimpressive luxuriance. 

"You've known Snorky, that is, Arthur, a long time, haven't you?" hesaid desperately, breathing hard. 

"Why, you funny boy! I'm his aunt, " said Miss Dabtree, laughing. 

"Oh, yes!" He felt he had offended her mortally, so to repair his socialblunder he said point-blank: "Gee! Some fellows are born lucky!"

"Now that is sweet of you, " she said, giving him the full effect of herheavenly smile. "But I'm afraid you're a terrible flatterer. "

"Shall I tell her about the Foot Regulator?" thought Skippy, who feltthe need of confiding his life's ambition. 

But at this moment Destiny arrived in the shape of a mosquito thatregistered its coming on one of Skippy's open-work socks. Skippy shookhis foot uneasily, just enough to disturb the intruder but not enough toattract Miss Dabtree's attention. The mosquito transferred itsoperations to the other sock. Skippy, in order to conceal hispredicament, slowly crossed his legs and then hastily uncrossed them, not being quite sure of the etiquette of such a position. 

The mosquito, pursuing its way, lighted on the graceful silver-sheenedstocking which Skippy had been contemplating furtively for the last tenminutes with a sudden realization that the feminine ankle has certainstrange sentimental values utterly different from those for which hisand Snorky Green's were created. 

[Illustration: "Good gracious!" cried Miss Dabtree with an impetuouslunge towards the point of attack. _Page 78_]

But immediately a terrible dilemma arose. How was he to act? In anothermoment the beautiful creature so perfumingly close to him would noticethe intruder, might even retreat before the menace of more mosquitoes, and the rapturous twilight opportunity for opening his confidence wouldpass forever. His instinct was all to protect her. But how? To slap atthe insect with his cap or his hand was unthinkable. He found himselfblushing at the very thought! Yet how to warn her without acknowledgingthat his attention had been concentrated on the lower gracefulsilhouette? He might offend her irreparably. Even if he exclaimed, "Lookout, there's a 'skeeter, '" what would he answer if she in her innocenceshould ask, "Where?"

As he debated this, hot and cold, the inevitable happened. 

"Good gracious!" cried Miss Dabtree with an impetuous lunge towards thepoint of attack, which made Skippy modestly avert his gaze. "This placeis filled with mosquitoes. We never can sit here!"

She rose and led the way to the parlor. 

"Won't you come and wait for Arthur?"

"Thanks, thanks awfully; much obliged, " said Skippy, gulping down hisdisappointment. He tripped against the foot-scraper and made a messof opening the door for her. He wanted above all things in the world tofollow her in and be permitted just for a few more wonderful minutes tosit and gaze at her loveliness. But to admit this was impossible. Whatever happened, she must never suspect, never! So at loss for anexcuse he stammered, "I'd love to, but really I ought to get back forstudy hour. "

A moment later, having backed and scraped down the steps and thanked herprofusely for some indefinite thing for which she ought to be thanked, he went rushing around the corner, let himself in by King Lentz'swindow, and surreptitiously gained his room. At last, having torn offthe red choker tie and freed his neck, back once more to the ease ofbachelor attire, he returned wrathfully to the pest which had perhapssaved him from his first sentimental excursion. 

Sunk in a cushioned armchair, his slippered feet on the desk, a bottleof cooling ginger pop in one hand and a cream puff in the other, heplaced before his imagination the problem:

"Why the mosquito?"

The more he pondered the more he became impressed with the fact thathere indubitably was one of the errors of the Almighty. Snakes destroyedrats and mice at least, but what earthly purpose was served bymosquitoes?

He knew, as all smatterings of outer information reached him via theweekly lecture course, that besides being a stinging annoyance to thehuman race, the mosquito was a breeder of plagues and had to be foughtin southern climes. Having wrathfully considered his subject and come tothe conclusion that no mitigating circumstances could exist, he next putto himself this problem:

"If the mosquito cannot be exterminated, can it be neutralized? If so, how?"

When Snorky Green, to whom Miss Dabtree was more aunt than woman, camebursting in an hour later, with the rebellious consciousness of havingthoroughly earned the five-dollar bill which lay in the safest ofpockets, he stopped short at the sight of his roommate in that recliningconcentration which Sherlock Holmes has popularized, the briar pipebeing replaced by a large pencil, on which Skippy was chewing in heavymeditation. 

"I say, Skippy, the old girl certainly came up handsome!" said Snorkygleefully, searching for the bill. 

"Sh--sh!" said Skippy without turning. 

"What the deuce?"

"I want to think. "

"Danged if he isn't inventing something else!" said Snorky, who went ontiptoe to a position where he could study the frowning outward signs ofthe mental disturbances which were undoubtedly working inwardly. At theend of a silent hour, Skippy condescended to relax. 

"Well!" said Snorky excitedly. 

Skippy rose with dignity and went to the window, gazing out a momentinto the darkling night where unknown myriads of mosquitoes lurked allunconscious of the doom impending over them. 

"I say, Skippy, what's the big idea?"

"It's big--bigger than anything you ever imagined, " said Skippyimpressively. 

"Aren't you going to tell a fellow!"

"Perhaps. "

Now Snorky was not without a certain knowledge of human nature, particularly Skippy-nature, so without further interest he proceeded todisrobe, flipping the five-dollar bill on the table with a rakishgesture and saying carelessly:

"The old gal has a heart, anyhow. However, ta-ta for the night. "

Five minutes later Skippy spoke from the depths of his bed. 

"Snorky, I'll tell you this much. "

There was a convulsion among the opposite sheets and Snorky sat up. 

"Go on, I'm listening!"

"It's bigger than bathtubs. "

"You don't say so!"

"Snorky, it's--"

"It's what?"

"It's mosquitoes!"

Accustomed as Snorky had become to the young inventor's cryptic methods, his imagination refused to follow. 

"You don't see?"

"How the deuce should I see?"

"Snorky, I'm going to put the mosquito out of business!"

"How in tarnation!"

"When I get through with him, " said Skippy loftily, "when my plans areperfected--he'll starve to death!"

"Oh, say! Skippy, is that all you're going to tell me?"

"That is all for to-night, " said Skippy, who, seizing a slipper, flungit across the room at the evening's candle after the methods introducedby the lamented Hickey Hicks, and plunged the room into darkness. 

CHAPTER XIV

THE PLOT AGAINST THE MOSQUITO

IF close association had brought to Snorky a canny knowledge of hisroommate's need of unbosoming himself of a great idea, it had alsoacquainted Skippy with the profit to be derived from Snorky'soverwhelming curiosity, particularly when there were any symptoms ofready cash. 

The next afternoon, therefore, without being unduly surprised, heaccepted an invitation to accompany Mr. Snorky Green to the home of theConovers up the road, where the record for pancakes at one continuoussitting stood at forty-nine to the honor (without challengers) of theHon. Hungry Smeed. 

Somewhere between the fourteenth and fifteenth pancake, havingsolicitously offered the maple syrup, Snorky said casually:

"That's a jim-dandy idea of yours, old horse, about mosquitoes. "

"I'm looking at it from all sides. "

This answer did not satisfy Snorky Green's thirst for information, so hesaid encouragingly:

"It's a great idea. You must. "

"Heard of Luther Burbank and what he does with plants?"

"Sure, that was in last week's lecture. Seedless fruit and all that sortof thing. "

"Snorky, " said Skippy meditatively, "who knows but some day a scientistwill cross the mosquito with a butterfly?"

"What good'll that do?"

"It would take the sting out of the mosquito, wouldn't it?"

"Suppose it put it into the butterfly. "

"If you're going to be facetious--" said Skippy, who, being sufficientlyfed, rose with dignity, glad of the opportunity to postpone thediscussion to another appetizing sitting. 

For a week Snorky Green, greatly impressed by the concentrated moodinessof his chum's attitude, artfully fed him with pancakes, éclairs, Turkishpaste, and late at night tempted him with deviled chicken and saltinesto be washed down with ginger pop and root beer. 

Skippy, having calculated nicely the possibilities of the exchequer, threw out progressively dark, mysterious hints that fed Snorky'scuriosity, without any open gift of his confidence. Even Doc Macnooder, aware by all outward signs that the imagination which had conceived ofthe Foot Regulator was again fermenting, had laid his arm about hisshoulders and led him to the Jigger Shop. 

But the Skippy Bedelle, who had assumed the trials and tribulations ofmanhood, had profited by the first disillusionments. The trusting, childlike faith was gone forever and in his new, skeptical attitudetowards human nature--Toots Cortrelle excepted--he had determined topart with as few millions as possible. 

"I say, Skippy, how's it working out?" said Snorky at eleven P. M. , producing the crackers and cheese, after having blinded the windows andhung a blanket over the telltale cracks of the door. 

"Fine!"

"Is that all you're going to tell me?" said Snorky with his hand on thecheese. 

"Not yet, but soon, " said Skippy, whose appetite always betrayed hiscaution. 

"In that case I serve notice right here I'm through with the financing!"

"The financing!"

"What else do you call it?" said Snorky indignantly, producing the lasttwo quarters from his pocket, and restoring the cheese to its box. 

"All that will go down to your credit account, " said Skippy in aconciliatory tone. "I'll tell you this much. There's nothing in thebutterfly idea--it would take too long. "

"Huh! You didn't think I bit on that! Well, how're you going to clean'em up? They destroy 'em in Cuba with kerosene--I've been reading up. Isit something like that?"

"Destroy them, why destroy them?" said Skippy reprovingly. 

"Why not?"

"If you destroy mosquitoes you destroy your income, you poor boob, " saidSkippy with his superior manner. "Let 'em live--who profits? I do. "

Snorky rose and produced the Bible. 

"Come on, " he said, in a fever of excitement. "I'm ready. Give me theoath. "

"You'll take the oath on my own terms!" said Skippy, looking at himfixedly. 

"What do you mean, terms?"

"Snorky, it's so big it may take years of investigation, youunderstand--"

"Sure. "

"This time I'm not giving up any fifty-one per cent. "

"Let her go!"

"And if any one goes in they go in on a salary!"

"Oho! I see. "

"Well?"

"All right, I'll swear, " said Snorky, after a brief wrestling betweenhis curiosity and his financial instincts. 

"It may be years working out, " said Skippy sadly. "Maybe our childrenwill live to see it; but Snorky, some day, I'm telling you, when theidea is perfected, the mosquito is going to starve to death!"

Snorky, without waiting to be prompted, hurriedly took an oath to guardthe secret from man woman and child and called down the scourges ofJehovah on his nearest of kin if he should ever prove false. 

"Snorky, " said Skippy, folding his arms behind him and spreading hislegs after the manner ascribed to the famous Corsican, "where domosquitoes bite you the most?"

"Golly! Where don't they?" said Snorky, who, thus reminded, began toscratch back of his ears. 

"Where do they bite where you can't hear them coming?"

"Legs and ankles, " said Snorky instantly. 

"Bright boy--you're getting closer. "

"Danged if I can see it. "

"Protect the ankles and the mosquito starves--am I right?"

"Hurry up, " said Snorky, who by this time recognized that the firstreasoning processes were simply eliminatory. 

"That was my problem, " said Skippy, frowning impressively. "Here is theanswer--this is how it came to me. " He went to the bureau and passed hishand into a sock, two fingers projecting through the devastated regions. "What do you call this?"

"That--that's my sock. "

"You call 'em hole-proof socks, " said Skippy, ignoring the aspersion. "You get it? You don't? Suppose we change it, suppose we use the sameorganization but call it--Mosquito-Proof Socks. "

"Mosquito-Proof Socks!" said Snorky in a whisper. 

Skippy, satisfied at the staggering effect produced, stood with a smilewaiting for the full result. 

"But, Skippy, is it--possible?" said Snorky faintly when he had broughthis lower jaw back under control. 

"That's not the way to look at it, " said Skippy impatiently. "Is theidea A No. 1, or is it not?"

"The idea? My aunt's cat's pants--the idea!" said Snorky all in abreath, "Mosquito-Proof Socks! Why, it's--it's--it's--" But here Snorkystopped, nonplussed, having exhausted his supply of adjectives on theFoot Regulator. 

"It is!" said Skippy firmly. 

"But won't they be too heavy?"

"What the deuce--"

"Why, they'd have to be regular bullet-proof, wouldn't they?"

"Say! What do you think I'm talking about--Tin Socks?"

"Why, I thought--"

"Listen! This is the way you get at it, " said Skippy, walking up anddown in ponderous concentration but pausing from time to time to dipinto the cheese. "You begin by looking at it from the point of view ofthe mosquito. A mosquito has got nerves, hasn't he, just like a horse ora cat or a bullfrog?"

"Sure he has. "

"What frightens a mosquito most?"

"Is it a joke?" said Snorky thoughtfully. 

"Green--"

"I apologize, " said Snorky hastily, and he brought out a bottle ofsarsaparilla. 

"A horse shies at a bit of paper; a sneeze will scare a cat, won't it?Well, then, what will scare a mosquito--it's all there!"

"Well, what _will_ scare a mosquito?" said Snorky, wide-eyed. 

"That is the field of investigation, " said Skippy in a melancholy voice. 

"But you said Mosquito-Proof Socks!"

"I did. Suppose a harsh sound annoys a mosquito; all you've got to do isto suspend a tiny rusty bell--"

"I don't like that, " said Snorky instantly. 

"Why not?"

"It doesn't sound modest--"

"That is probably not the way, " said Skippy, dismissing this objectionwith a wave of his hand. "I'm thorough, that's all. Supposing there arecertain colors that scare him or make him seasick--red and purple oryellow and violet. "

"By jingo! Now you're talking. "

"Suppose the mosquito has some deadly enemy. Then all you've got to dois to work his picture into the design of the socks. "

"Holy cats!"

"Supposin' it's just the sense of smell you get him by--"

"Citronella!" fairly shouted Snorky. 

"Hush!" said Skippy, alarmed at the outbreak. 

"Citronella!" said Snorky in a whisper. 

"You see? Mosquito-Proof Socks is the idea--and there must be fifty waysof working it out. "

"Cheese it!" said Snorky, dousing the light at a sound in the hall. 

 * * * * *

At a point somewhere between the witching hour and the dawn Snorky saidin a tentative whisper:

"Hey there, Skippy! Are you awake?"

"What is it?"

"Gosh! Skippy, I can't sleep. It's just steaming around in my brain!"

"M. P. S. ?"

"You bet. I can't see anything but them, millions of them!"

"Mosquitoes?"

"No--legs! Holy Jemima! Skippy, have you thought how many legs there arein the world? Why, in the United States alone twice ninety-two million. Think of it! And what'll they average in socks and stockings? I've beentrying to work it out all night. Gee! My head's just cracking. If youmultiply twice ninety-two million by seven pair of socks or even six--"

"Don't!" said Skippy angrily, and he thought to himself, "Thinking ofmoney, thinking of money! How mercenary he is!"

"Standard Oil is nowhere, " said Snorky feverishly. 

"Don't I know it!"

"Oil'll run out but there'll always be mosquitoes and legs!"

"Darn you, Snorky! Shut up and let me sleep!"

But how was he to sleep with the vision that Snorky's avariciousimagination held out to him? All night long he tossed about restlessly, wandering in a forest of legs; white ones and red ones, black ones andyellow ones, tall ones and short ones, fat, thin, bow-legged andcrooked, all the legs in the world waiting for him to rise up andprotect them!

The next morning it was worse. All his imagination, suddenly divertedfrom the exact scientific contemplation, was halted before thestupendous contemplation of future profits. 

"Snorky Green is a bad influence, " he said moodily as he trudged outheavy-headed from morning chapel. Do what he might, the contaminationspread. With all the long fatigue of patient investigation he knew wasahead, his mind leaped over the present and galloped into the future. 

"Multiply twice ninety-two million legs by six pair of socks, " he foundhimself repeating. "Oil may run out, but you bet there'll always bemosquitoes and legs. "

Yes, it was greater than Standard Oil. It was fabulous to conceive ofthe wealth that would be his. All at once the John C. Bedelle Gymnasiumseemed ludicrously inadequate. He would double the present equipment!There would be a second campus--Bedelle Circle! The school lacked water;he would create a lake for it and the John C. Bedelle Boathouse. . . . 

 * * * * *

"Bedelle, kindly shine for us. You may translate, John, but be cautiousand not too free. "

The Roman's mocking voice brought him precipitately to his feet. Heopened his book but the passage had escaped him and though he dug ShrimpBedient savagely in the back, no signal returned. 

"Excellent so far, quite exceptionally excellent; nothing to criticize, "said the Roman's rising and falling inflection. "Go on. "

"Please, sir, I didn't do the advance. "

The class roared and the Roman said:

"Too bad, John, too bad! No luck in guessing this morning. We're in thereview, John. Too bad! Dreaming again, John? Don't do it, don't do it!The country will take care of itself, without you. Times are hard, John. Another year in the Second Form is a dreadful drain on Father'spocket-book. Sit down, John, and don't dream--don't do it. "

 * * * * *

Skippy sat down and glared at the Roman. 

Some day, some day he would even institute a fund for superannuatedteachers, he would! He would come back some day to the school he hadmade the greatest in the country; he would come as the BENEFACTOR andthen the Roman, old, and decrepit in a wheeled chair, would be broughtto him, to him, John C. Bedelle, whom as a boy he had held up to theridicule of the class! What a revenge that would be, the proud andhaughty Roman, the greatest flunker of them all, the Roman of thecaustic tongue and the all-seeing eye, actually clinging to his hand, stammering out his thanks . . . The Roman whose mocking voice stillechoed in his memory, "Don't dream, John, don't do it!"

CHAPTER XV

THE TENNESSEE SHAD SUSPECTS

THE Tennessee Shad, as has been told, was long, thin and full of bones. His imagination was chiefly occupied in initiating ideas which would bethe cause of exertion in others. In the warmth of the budding season hecame out of his winter cage and could be seen for long hours perched onhis window sill in the Kennedy, legs pendent; like some dreamy vulture, surveying the horizon for a significant point. 

There was little that escaped the Shad. For some time his curiosity hadbeen stirred by the unusual attentions paid to Skippy Bedelle by his oldside-partner, Doc Macnooder. Doc was eminently practical and if Docdevoted any part of his time to an inconsequential underformer, in thelanguage of the day, there was something doing. 

The early visits of Macnooder to Skippy's room at the time of the FootRegulator campaign had been noted, likewise the subsequent cooling ofthe affection. So when after a few weeks' lapse Macnooder was again seenimpelling Skippy in the direction of the Jigger Shop with a protectingarm over his shoulders, the Tennessee Shad whistled softly through histeeth and said to himself:

"I wonder what new flim-flam game is on?"

Now Macnooder was distinctly a trespasser, for Macnooder belonged to theDickinson and Skippy was of the Kennedy and, by that token, his lawfulprize. The Tennessee Shad's vigilance redoubled. He began to note theair of mystery and solemnity which hung over the two roommates, theirfrequent whisperings and the moments of intense excitement when, withlocked arms and heads close together, they drew surreptitiously awayfrom their fellows for secret conclave. When presently Greaser Tunxton, a solitary youngster who ranked high among the polers and high markerswith a curious penchant for chemistry, began to be seen in theircompany, the Tennessee Shad's vigilance became acute. 

One night, when after hours he was returning from a midnight spread inKing Lentz's room, his ear detected unmistakable signs of activitybehind Skippy's door across the hall. A quarter of an hour later twostocking-clad forms stole past his open door and slowly down thetreacherous stairs. The Tennessee Shad followed. 

 * * * * *

Below, the door of Greaser Tunxton opened cautiously and as cautiouslyclosed again. A moment later the Shad, now at the keyhole, heard thewindow open and the sounds of a foray into the night. He calculatednicely, passed into the room and out the window and took up the trail ofthe three shadows moving in the general direction of Memorial Hall. 

Ten minutes later the Tennessee Shad, having stalked his prey in classicDeerslayer manner, reached the farther stretches of the pond and, flaton his stomach among the high grasses, heard the following mysteriousdialogue:

"How's this, Skippy?"

"Fine! Must be millions of them. "

"Do you suppose they sleep?"

"We'll wake 'em up. "

"Shucks! It's only bullfrogs, " thought the Tennessee Shad; but at thismoment perceiving the three in clear silhouette against the faintmoonlight, he instantly discarded that explanation. The three wanderersinto the night were clothed in helmets, from which voluminous folds ofcheesecloth descended to the waists, while each had his trousers rolledup well above the knees. The conversation continued, to his growingmystification. 

"They're awake, all right. I can hear them coming!"

"You're the boss, Skippy. What's the order?"

"Twenty paces apart. Greaser, you shake the bell, slowly. Snorky, youstand here, and, mind you, no slapping or moving. Everythingscientific. "

"All right, but get a move on. Ouch, I've got two already. "

"Red leg or blue leg?"

"Blue, darn it!"

"Fine! I'll count a hundred slowly. Start up, Greaser. "

The low, harsh, grating sounds of a rusty bell slowly agitated began tobe heard, punctuating the droning count: "Five, six, seven!"

"For the love of Willie Keeler, what is it!" said the Shad, more andmore bewildered, as he rubbed one leg against the other and shook hishead to protect himself from the many insects. "It must be a secretsociety and this is the initiation. "

"Skippy?"

"Hello!"

"The bell's no good at all. "

"Twenty-nine, thirty--remember your oath. "

"Say! Count a little faster; I can't hold out much longer. "

"Red leg or blue?"

"Both, darn it!"

"Any difference?"

The reply was too blasphemous to be set down here. 

The Tennessee Shad, too, was paying dearly the price of his curiosity;so, being convinced that he had stumbled upon a secret initiation, hedecided to get some enjoyment out of the situation. Presently, trumpeting his mouth with his hands, he emitted a long, wailing sound:

"Ugh, wugh, guggle, guggle!"

"Good lord! What was that?"

"Did you hear it?"

"It's a night owl that's all; fifty-six, fifty-seven--"

"Oonah, woonah, WOO, HOO!"

"Night owls nothing; it's ghosts!"

"There ain't no ghosts, you chicken-livered--"

But at this moment the Tennessee Shad, smarting from head to foot, letout an ear-splitting screech and the three experimenters in mosquitologydisappeared at top speed. The Tennessee Shad, satisfied, emerged, examined with curiosity a discarded helmet smeared withcitronella-soaked cheesecloth, and picked up a rusty dinner bell. Thislast stuck in the crop of his imagination. 

"Secret-society stuff, " he said to himself as he slapped his way out ofthe marsh. "But why the bell? Darn mysterious, that bell. . . . "

CHAPTER XVI

EXPERIMENTS IN FRAGRANCE

THE result of the first investigation in the likes and dislikes of theNew Jersey mosquito brought a decided difference of opinion. It wasadmitted (given the swollen condition of Greaser Tunxton's legs) thatthe insect's sense of hearing was undoubtedly defective. Snorky Greenwas equally emphatic in expressing his conviction that all colors werealike to it, but Skippy insisted that it was not scientific to jump to aconclusion on the basis of one experiment. 

"But golly! I had forty-seven bites on the red stocking and sixty-fiveon the blue, and if that doesn't prove anything, I'd like to know what!"

"It proves that blue attracts them more than red, that's all. We mustnow try other combinations. "

"It proves one thing right here, " said Snorky Green, dousing his legswith the second bottle of witch hazel. "I'm through on thehuman-experiment game, and that's flat. "

"I'm inclined to believe we should concentrate on the sense of smell, "said Skippy thoughtfully. "As a matter of fact the experiment turned outas I foresaw. "

"It did, eh?" said Snorky wrathfully. 

Skippy retreated to the other side of the table and hurriedly announced:

"I've been talking it over with Greaser here and the problem isnarrowing down. Now what we've got to figure out is, shall we make it awashing solution or something that'll stick forever?"

"Washing solution. "

"Sure we could wash the socks in some sort of preparation of citronella, couldn't we?"

"That's too easy. Any one could do that. "

"Exactly! That's why we must experiment further. Greaser's got some verygood ideas. "

"Oh! Well, bring on your stinks; I can stand them. "

"You can?"

"Sure. "

"You swear?"

"I swear. What's the idea, Greaser?"

Greaser Tunxton looked at him hard and thoughtfully before replying. 

"You see, citronella comes out in the wash, but there are one or twoother things much stronger. "

"Citronella's pretty strong!" said Snorky, who began to wonder if he hadpromised too rashly. 

"Ever heard of asafoetida?" said Skippy, with his hand on the chemicalgenius. 

"That's the stuff you put on the furnace at co-ed schools when you wanta cut, " said Snorky, who knew the story of Dink Stover's reasons forcoming to Lawrenceville. 

"It is quite possible, " said Greaser in his smileless, scientificmanner, "that, properly treated, a mixture of silk and cotton, possiblywool, will retain enough of the essential quality of asafoetida for atleast a dozen washings--"

"Isn't citronella bad enough?" said Snorky, with a horrible misgiving. 

"It's extremely doubtful, " said Greaser, shaking his head, "but I don'twant to say anything definitely before we make exhaustive experiments. "

"Where?" said Snorky, shrinking. "If it's down at the pond again, goodnight!"

"Green!" said Skippy wrathfully. 

"Bedelle to you!"

"The experiments can be conducted right here, " said Greaserreassuringly. 

"Oh! Well, why didn't you say so?" said Snorky, feeling a littleashamed. "Perhaps after all asa--asa--well, whatever it is, will comeout in the wash, too. "

"If it does, " said Greaser proudly, "I've got something worse. "

"Worse!" said Snorky, with a sinking heart. 

"_Worse!_" said Skippy joyfully. 

"If you put that on, " said Greaser, meditating, "the socks will bebetter than mosquito-proof--even rattlesnakes wouldn't bite you!"

"Criminy! What is it?"

"I know what it is, " said Greaser, wagging his head wisely, "but I can'tpronounce it!"

 * * * * *

Events now moved rapidly. The following morning, despite the draft whichentered through three windows and swept out the door, the Roman stoppedthe morning recitation after five minutes of indignant commotion in theclass and, making a detailed investigation, dispensed with the presenceof Mr. Snorky Green, Mr. Skippy Bedelle and Mr. Greaser Tunxton (thelast with incredulous chagrin) with a request to produce each individualbath record for the week. 

At eight o'clock that night Snorky Green deserted the communallaboratory, bag and baggage, announcing that he was through once and forall, and sought asylum of Dennis de Brian de Boru. Finnegan, after thefirst whiff, barricaded the door and seized a baseball bat to repel anyaggression via the transom. 

At eight-thirty, the inhabitants of the second floor held an indignationmeeting on the steps. 

"Holy Moses! What is it?" said the Triumphant Egghead, smelling in thedirection of the offending room. 

"It's a dead cat. "

"Smells like ripe sauerkraut and garlic!"

"No, it smells like asafoetida. "

"The deuce you say! Asafoetida is a maiden's perfume to this!"

"Well, some one's dead. "

"It's the Greaser, then. "

"My Lord! This is awful!"

"Skippy's found a pet skunk. "

"How in blazes are we going to stand it?"

"We won't. "

When the odor had finally rolled down the stairs a house meeting wascalled and the offenders were summoned to appear. Skippy Bedelle andGreaser Tunxton responded and the house adjourned through the windows. Now it happened that the Roman was dining in Princeton that night andthe conduct of discipline was in the hands of a young assistant master, lately transferred from the wilds of the Dickinson, Mr. LorenzoBlackstone Tapping. 

Tabby, as he was more affectionately known, was apt to be somewhatconfused, as is natural, before an extraordinary crisis, and had madeone or two lamentable blunders. In the present case, after immediatelysending in a hurry call for the plumber, he departed in a panic forFoundation House, holding before him on a pair of tongs a pair ofreeking football stockings which he had seized in the wash basin, whileSkippy Bedelle, under strict orders, remained twenty paces to the rearand out of the wind. 

Arrived before the dark and awesome, ivy-hidden portals of the HeadMaster's dread abode, Mr. Tapping carefully deposited the unspeakablemess against the stone steps, stationed the rebellious Skippy under anopposite tree and entered, in a fever of excitement. 

"Great heavens!" said the Doctor, starting from his chair. "Are youill?"

"No, sir, it's not myself. That is, it's--it's the whole house; it'syoung Bedelle, sir. The fact is, Doctor, the situation was so seriousthat I--I thought I'd best come to you directly, sir. "

"Try to give the details a little more calmly and coherently, Mr. Tapping, " said the Doctor, retreating behind a handkerchief and studyingthe young assistant with a growing suspicion. He indicated his guest andadded, "Professor Rootmeyer of Princeton--Mr. Tapping, one of ouryounger masters. "

Ten minutes later Skippy, shivering under the apple tree, beheld Tabbyreappear, take up the tongs gingerly and return to the house. Almostimmediately the window of the Doctor's study opened with a bang andthere was an iron clank in the near roadway. 

"I never smelled such a smell! Is it possible?" said the Doctor, coughing. "What is it?"

"Please, sir, I don't know, " said Mr. Tapping miserably. 

"You don't know and you are a B. S. ?"

"I haven't the faintest idea. "

"Well, what is your explanation, or have you any explanation of thisextraordinary occurrence?"

"I think, sir, the boy is completely unbalanced. "

"Bedelle! He's always been steady and well conducted. "

"He's been acting queerly lately, sir, and he absolutely refuses to giveany explanation. The house, sir, is quite untenantable. I--I don't thinkthe boys can sleep there to-night. "

"Where is Bedelle now?"

"He is outside, sir--waiting. "

"Perhaps I had better examine into this myself, " said the Doctor, frowning. "Bedelle is a good boy--a bit of a dreamer, but a good, reliable boy. Mr. Tapping, you may return to the Kennedy and quiet them. I shall be over later. Keep Bedelle waiting--outside. "

"Jim, " said Professor Rootmeyer, the distinguished chemist, "there areonly two things in God's universe can produce a smell like that--a deadIndian and butyl mercaptan. "

The Doctor immediately discarded the first hypothesis. 

"Frank, you've hit it. It _is_ butyl mercaptan, " he said, laughing. 

"Well, how did you know?"

"I remember once when I was a shaver--"

"Go on, " said Professor Rootmeyer as the Doctor came to a hurried stop. 

"H'm, we are living in the present, " said the Doctor after a secondthought. 

He rose and went to the doorstep. 

"Bedelle!"

"Yes, sir. "

The stench began to swell with the hurried approach. 

"Stop there, " said the Doctor hastily, and, having had his imaginationsharpened by frequent contact with the genus boy, he added with suddeninspiration: "Go round to my study window. I will speak to you frominside. "

A moment later Skippy's white face appeared, framed against the night. 

"Bedelle, Mr. Hopkins reports that you were dismissed from first recitalthis morning, for being in a condition which unfitted you forassociation with your fellow beings. Is that true?"

"Please, sir, it was the citronella. "

"Mr. Tapping reports that the stench arising from your room has made thehouse untenantable. Is that true?"

"Please, sir, that was asafoetida and--"

"And butyl mercaptan; I'm quite aware of that, " said the Doctor quickly, to continue the tradition of omniscience. 

"Yes, sir. "

"Well, Bedelle, what is your explanation? Were you trying to poison anyone?"

"Oh, no, sir!"

"You were not contemplating self-destruction, were you?" said theDoctor, whose curiosity led him to adopt a light coaxing manner. 

"Please, sir, I was experimenting. "

"Experimenting! What for?"

"I'm sorry, sir, I can't tell you, " said Skippy defiantly. He hadforeseen the test, but he was resolved to be drawn and quartered beforeyielding up the secret of his future millions. 

"You--can't--tell--ME?" said the Doctor in his pulpit sternness. 

"No, sir. I've taken an oath. "

"Do you realize, Bedelle, that you owe me an explanation, that if thereis no explanation for this extraordinary attack on the discipline andmorale of the school that I should be quite justified in requesting yourimmediate departure?"

"I know, sir. Yes, sir. "

"And you refuse still?"

"It's an invention, sir. That's all I can tell you, sir. I'm sorry, sir. Please, Doctor, I'd like to stay in the school. "

The Doctor considered. He was a just man and his sense of humor allowedhim to distinguish between the vicious and the playful imagination. After long, agonizing moments for Skippy waiting at the window, he tooka sudden decision. 

"Bedelle?"

"Yes, sir. "

"If I let you remain at Lawrenceville, will you give me a promise--thatso long as you remain here, you won't attempt to invent anything else?"

"So long as I'm in the school?" said Skippy, broken-hearted. 

"Absolutely. It's that or expulsion. I have four hundred tender lives toprotect. Well?"

"I swear, " said Skippy, with tears in his eyes. 

The Doctor bit hard and said:

"Then I shall overlook this. Your record is in your favor. I shalloverlook this. I have your word of honor, Bedelle. Good night. "

Skippy drew a long breath and went hurriedly back to the Kennedy. Butthere he halted. The smell was awful and the comments which reached himthrough the open windows were not at all reassuring. 

"I think--I think perhaps it's warm enough outside, " he said, heavy-hearted. 

 * * * * *

For two more years he had solemnly sworn to refrain from inventing, andSkippy was a man of his word. No matter, there was this consolation:Mosquito-Proof Socks would some day be a reality; butyl mercaptan hadproved its worth at the first test. He would devote himself to ascientific preparation. He was young. With twice ninety-two million legsto be protected with six pairs of socks or stockings a year, he couldafford to wait. 

"Before I'm thirty, I'll be a millionaire, " he said defiantly. "I'll ownrace horses and yachts and boxes at the opera and I'll marry--" Here hehesitated and the figure of Lillian Russell somehow became confused witha new apparition. Something that was and was not Miss Virginia Dabtree, but most certainly wore silver stockings, which it would be his duty andprivilege to protect. "Well, anyhow, she'll drive a four-in-hand andwear pearls for breakfast, " he concluded, and, whistling, he went downto dream out the night in the baseball cage. 

CHAPTER XVII

SOAP AND SENTIMENT

TEN days after the dreadful fiasco of the Mosquito-Proof Socks, when acorps of experts had succeeded in removing the stench from the upperfloors of the Kennedy; when certain garments had been taken out under avigilantes committee and had been publicly interred; when the threeoffenders had again been permitted to resume their membership incivilized society--Snorky Green began to be alarmed at certaindisquieting symptoms in the conduct of Skippy Bedelle. 

"I don't like it, " he said, standing before his roommate's washstand ina dark reverie. "Danged if I like the looks of things. Somethin' iscertainly doing. It certainly is. "

He picked up a large new nailbrush, showed it to Dennis de Brian deBoru, who had been called in consultation, and shook his head. 

"Spending his money on bric-a-brac like that--and that's not all!" hesaid indignantly. 

"Let me know the worst, " said Dennis who, perched on the table tailorfashion, had been ruminating, and when Dennis de Brian de Boru remainedsilent, the mental wheels were grinding rapidly. "Fire away, if you wantto know anything--ask me. "

Snorky proceeded to lift the broken cover of the soap dish, and broughtforth a cake which he tendered gingerly to Dennis for his olfactoryinspection. 

"What a lovely pink stink!" he exclaimed, after one sniff. "Smells likethe cook on her Sunday off. "

"Are you convinced?"

"I am. Skippy, the human scent-box is undoubtedly in love. Objectmatrimony. "

"He's got it bad this time, " said Snorky, remembering that they had areputation as lady-killers to maintain. 

"If you will associate with 'em, it's bound to happen, " said Finnegan inhis rapid fire style. "I know the symptoms. My brother Pat went maudlin, when he was just Skippy's age. Ten years of it, presents Christmas andbirthdays, flowers twice a month, postage stamps and letter paper, weekly bulletins and all that sort of rot! Ten years, and then hemarried a girl, best friend stuff, trust you together and allthat--married her a month after he met her. Think of the expense. Notfor me, old top--my money goes for race horses. "

"You've nothing to worry over, you wild Irishman, " said Snorky, who felta certain presumption in this lesson. 

"Casting aspersions? Oh, I don't know! I may not be beautiful, butwomen, proud women, have sighed as I passed. "

"Run away, " said Snorky impatiently. 

"I was just going, " said Dennis with dignity. At the door he paused fora parting shot. "Hard luck, old gormandizer. There won't be so manymidnight spreads for you, now. Cut down the jiggers, shut up the pantry, tighten the belt! Skippy'll need his money for _other_ things. Thank theLord the only thing he can get into of mine, is a necktie. Hard luck!"

Perhaps a little of the practical reactions had occurred to Snorky, forhe flung a shoe at the diminutive Finnegan and was still in a brownstudy when Skippy came in. 

"If he starts to wash he's in love. Bet that's why he's been sofriendly, " he thought, waiting developments. "I thought it was queer hedidn't sulk more after the big smell!"

In fact Snorky had been considerably puzzled at his roommate's actionsafter the fiasco of the Mosquito-Proof Socks. 

"Any mail?" said Skippy nervously. 

"I don't think so. "

"Are you sure?"

"Come to think about it, there might be a letter over on the table. "

The Byronic melancholy vanished from Skippy's face. He sprang to thetable and seized the envelope. 

"Feeling better?" said Snorky, noting the beneficial results. 

"Much. "

"You look ten years younger. "

"You go to blazes!" said Skippy, but without anger. He went to the bedand flinging back the mattress uncovered three pairs of trousers slowlyhardening into that razor edge which is the _sine qua non_ of a man offashion. Apparently satisfied, he next proceeded to the mirror, where, after a short inspection, he seized his brushes, dipped them into thewater pitcher and laboriously began to reconstruct the perfect part thatwas beginning to replace the Skippy cowlick. Trousers may be brought toorder in a few minutes, but to subdue a cowlick is a matter of years. Ten minutes' rigorous application of the brushes failing to produceresults, he ducked into the washbasin, drove a line with the comb, slicked down the sides and applied a press, in the form of a derby, which process will subdue the most recalcitrant of cowlicks for at leasttwo hours. 

"Aha! Object matrimony?" said a squeaky voice. 

Skippy looked up wrathfully to perceive the curious eyes of Dennis deBrian de Boru gazing from the transom. Both brushes went flying acrossthe room, but Dennis knew when his presence was _de trop_. The episodeshook off the derby and deranged the part. Snorky watched the process ofreconstruction with a meditative glance. 

"Skippy, old horse, you are _so_ spick and span. Has love really come toyou?"

"You go take a run and jump, " said Skippy lightly and he began towhistle a genial air. 

Now if Bedelle had denied the direct accusation, Snorky would have beencertain of its truth, vice versa if the answer had been broadlyaffirmative, Snorky would have at once dismissed the suspicion. Skippy'slight, _de haut en bas_ manner left him unconvinced. Circumstantialevidence was all he had to go on, but the evidence was strong. Skippyundeniably was a changed man. 

"What day is it?" said Skippy, who had been reading over the letter. 

"Wednesday, you chump. "

"Three days to Saturday, " said Skippy with a sigh. He went to thewashstand, poured out the water and began to scrub diligently at hisnails. 

"Well, you ought to get them clean by that time, " said Skippyfacetiously. 

"What's that?"

"So you are in love?" said Snorky, shifting the conversation. 

"What makes you think so?"

"Go ahead, open your heart, what's a roommate for?"

"You'd be a nice one to confide in! Why not shout it in a telephone?"

"Hold up, that's a raw deal, " said Snorky rising wrathfully. "I mayhave weakened under that awful stink, but I kept the secret, didn't I?Didn't I stand up three hours against the whole blooming house and didthey ever get a word from me about Mosquito-Proof Socks, and in thestate of temper they were too? Oh, I say, come now, square deal youknow!"

Skippy considered him more favorably. Besides, he remembered that bySaturday he would need to embellish his sartorial display with a fewtreasures from his chum's wardrobe. He sat down and took his head in hishands. 

"Snorky, old fellow, you're right--I've got it bad. "

"And you're going over to Princeton Saturday to meet her?" said Skippy, who saw a trail. 

"Her, what her?"

"Mimi Lafontaine, of course, " said Snorky with a sudden intuition. 

"Her name is Tina, " said Snorky tragically. "Her first name. Perhapssome day I can tell you her real name, not now. "

"Rats, it is Mimi, and you're going over again to meet her at the game, "said Snorky, who knew the Skippy imagination. 

"So you think I'm going to Princeton, " said Skippy looking at himwisely. "I am--but from there I am making a cut for New York. Get thepoint?"

"Oh, Tina's in New York?"

"She is. " He hesitated a moment, and then weighing his words to givefull value to their dramatic significance, he added--"She is on thestage. "

"You're a thundering, whooping, common-a-garden liar, " said Snorky, whofelt that his sympathies were being trifled with. "Where in blazes wouldyou know an actress anyhow?"

"And you asked my confidence!" said Skippy reproachfully. "Tina and Igrew up together. She ran away a year ago. It's a terrible story, terrible! She's had the devil of a life, poor little girl. Gosh, if Iwere only twenty-one!"

"Skippy, if you are faking it again this time, " said Snorky, whoseconfidence was shaken by the perfect seriousness of his chum'smelancholy. "If you are, dinged if I'll ever believe another word. "

"See here--did I volunteer to tell you?" said Skippy, who rose with acomplete injured air. "That settles it. This is all you'll ever know. "

And leaving Snorky in a ferment of curiosity he went to his desk, drewout a sheet of paper and began to run his fingers through his hair. 

Snorky, as a matter of fact, had hit the nail on the head, though ofcourse it would never do to have him suspect it. Skippy did not mindconfiding to him his state of mind, in fact it was absolutely necessaryif he were to go on without an internal explosion to seek some sympathyand understanding. But to admit to Snorky that he had actually succumbedto Mimi the Japanese brunette, particularly when the issue was stillclothed in doubt, --was unthinkable. So Skippy invented Tina. 

CHAPTER XVIII

LOVE COMES LIKE THE MEASLES

IT had all happened the Saturday before, when for reasons of her ownMiss Clara Bedelle (the reasons taking shape in the heroic figure ofTurkey Reiter, captain of the eleven, and the Triumphant Egghead, premier danseur of the school) had asked Skippy to invite those heroes, as she, being already wise in protective knowledge, preferred not toshow her affection too directly. Skippy, on receipt of these sisterlydirections, had been in a towering rage, for it had never occurred tohim that men of the world such as Turkey and the Egghead would for amoment condescend. If it had not been for the added bait of a Princetongame, he would never have found the courage. The result upset all hispreconceived theories, and it was not until he found himself on the highroad to Princeton, actually squeezed into a buggy between two eager andenthusiastic lords of the school that he attempted to reason it out. Theattempt, however, was beyond him. If girls as such wereincomprehensible, how the deuce was he, Skippy Bedelle, to conceive thatsuch a thing as a sister, particularly his sister, could arouse anyenthusiasm?

"Guess it's the grub and the game all right, " he reflected finally. "Anyhow they will let me alone, that's something. "

At lunch it did seem that his wish was to be gratified and despitecertain sisterly glances of reproach, he was able to secure a thirdhelping of roast beef and a double portion of ice cream and cake, withthe connivance of Miss Biggs the chaperone, while Sister and MissLafontaine attended to the chatter. So engrossed was he in this attemptto stock up for the long week ahead, that he completely failed to noticethe comedy which was being played to the greater edification of Mr. Turkey Reiter and the obvious disconcerting of the Triumphant Egghead, who was being neglected flagrantly and openly for mysterious reasonsknown only to the ladies. 

Skippy, therefore, was totally unprepared, as he was both shocked andterrified, suddenly to find himself at the side of Miss Mimi, withTurkey and his sister behind, while the Triumphant Egghead, not to givehis tormentor any further satisfaction, was pretending to laughuproariously at something that his companion, Miss Biggs, had just said. For five minutes Skippy was in the most complete funk of his life. Hisbody seemed suddenly all hands and pockets and do what he would his feetwould interfere as they had that awful day eight months before when hehad descended into the family parlor in the first pair of longtrousers. 

"I think that Princeton is just the sweetest place in the world, don'tyou?" said Miss Lafontaine with the air of a great discovery. 

"I'm preparing for Yale, " said Skippy hoarsely. 

"Oh, I'm so glad, " said the young lady immediately, and sinking hervoice to a confidential whisper, she added, "you know I'm Yale toothough you mustn't give it away. I think Yale men have such strongcharacters, don't you? You can't help but admire them, can you?"

Skippy had no ideas upon any subject whatsoever at that moment, besideshe hadn't the slightest idea what she meant. So he took out hishandkerchief and then put it back suddenly, as he remembered that a nosewas never blown in polite society. As Miss Lafontaine's sole object inappropriating Skippy was the reflex action on the Triumphant Egghead, itwas absolutely necessary that Skippy should at least give the appearanceof appreciating the privilege. Miss Mimi, therefore, decided to jump thefence of strict conventionality if the expression be permitted. 

"Jack, " she said, coming closer, "own up now, you are a terriblewoman-hater, aren't you?"

"Damn all sisters, " he muttered to himself. Then he looked up and met atthe deadliest of ranges, the smiling, mischievous eyes of the Japanesebrunette. Despite himself, he broke into a laugh. 

"Girls do give me a pain, " he said abruptly, "but for the love of Mike, I mean for heaven's sake, don't tell Sis I said that. "

Miss Mimi immediately passed her hand through his arm. 

"Won't you try very, very hard, Jack, to make an exception?"

He breathed hard and something warm went up his back like the warmripple of the hot water when his body slowly immersed. If Snorky Greencould see him now! Mimi hanging on his arm, Mimi's soft voice pleadingwith him, Mimi, just as she had done in the fictitious weeks, throwingherself at him, actually throwing herself at him! He tried to rememberone of the dozen eloquent replies he had once evolved, but nothing came. 

"I say, you're not a sister, are you?"

Miss Lafontaine was considerably puzzled by this but pretended that shewas an only child. 

"Well that makes a difference; I thought you couldn't be, " said Skippyunbending a little, "you act differently. "

"Oh I see, " said Mimi, who had half expected a display of sentiment, "aren't you a funny man. So you don't approve of sisters?"

She had called him a man--perhaps after all his sister had not told theage of his trousers. He straightened up and answered, "Oh, I supposethey are all right--later on. "

"Jack--you _are_ a woman-hater!"

"Oh, I don't know, " he said, beginning to be flattered, and he fell towondering how he could call her Mimi, which of course was his right. 

"I'll tell you a secret, but perhaps you know it already. Perhaps afterall you are only making fun of me. "

"Oh, I say, Mimi, " he said all in a gulp and then blushed to his ears. 

The young lady, noticing this, smiled to herself and continued:

"Well, if you are simply pretending, it's a very good way to get a lotof attention, but of course you know that. "

"I? What? Oh, really you don't think!"

"Well, I don't know. Because of course that is what does make a maninteresting. It is such a compliment when he does take notice. Now a manlike Mr. Sidell who jollies every girl he meets--"

"The Egghead is a terrible fusser, " said Skippy with new appreciation ofhis own value, "you should have seen him at the Prom. "

"Did he have Cora Lantier down, the blonde girl with the big ears!"

"She was blonde but I didn't notice the ears. She was down two weeksago. "

"Oh, she was?"

Miss Lafontaine glanced backward and snuggled a little closer. Skippybegan to be aware of the strangest of symptoms; at one moment he felt arush of blood to the forehead just like the beginnings of bronchitis, the next moment his throat was swollen as though it were the mumps, yetimmediately there came a weakness in his knees that could only beinfluenza. The warm contact of the little hand penetrated through hissleeve, the sound of her voice shut out all other sounds in his ears, and when he met her eyes his glance turned hastily away and as avidlyreturned. 

Mimi Lafontaine at the age of nineteen knew very little of the schoolcurriculum, but had a marked aptitude for the liberal intuitive arts. 

"Mimi would flirt with a clothes horse, if you flung a pair of trousersover it, " a dear friend had said of her, and on the present occasion shewas deriving a good deal of pleasure from the situation. The attitude ofa young lady of nineteen, about to emerge into society, vis-à-vis with ayoungster sprouting out of his first long trousers, particularly when hehappens to be the brother of a best friend, is a fairly obvious one. There is no excitement to be derived but a certain amount of exercise. Afisherman is necessarily a man who enjoys catching fish, and if troutare not rising to the fly, sitting on the edge of the wharf and haulingin suckers is still fishing. 

At the end of the afternoon Skippy was head over heels in love. If hehad had the opportunity he would have trusted her with the secret of hislife's ambition--the Bathtub and the Mosquito-Proof Socks. But Miss Mimiwas too busy extracting information about the Triumphant Egghead (whohad countered by steadfastly devoting himself to Miss Biggs) and certainsentimental chapters in the past of her best friend in which she had hada revisionary interest. These subtleties naturally were beyond theexperience of Skippy, in fact he was quite unable to reason on anything. His heart was swollen to twice its natural size, his pulse was racing, and the next moment with the wrench of the farewell, he felt in a numbdespair, the light go out of the day, and a vast sinking weight rushinghim down into chill regions of loneliness. 

"Say Skippy, old sporting life, " said Turkey Reiter, speaking over hishead to the Egghead, who was in a terrific sulk, "How do you do it?"

"Do what, Turk?"

"Why, my boy, you're the quickest worker I ever saw; I thought theEgghead knew his business, but he's a babe, a suckling to you!"

"Mimi Lafontaine is the damnedest little flirt I ever met, " said theEgghead, with a slash of his whip which sent the buggy careening on twowheels. 

"Hold on there!" said Turkey, grabbing the reins. "I've got to liveanother week. Well, Skippy, my hat's off to you, old sporting life. You've got her feeding out of your hand. . . . And Mimi too, right underthe Egghead's eye!"

"Oh, come off now, Turkey, " said Skippy, to whom this light badinage wastorture. 

"Shucks!" said the Egghead, "you know her game. "

"Well you played a pretty slick game yourself, old horse, but how didyou enjoy Miss Biggs?"

"You go chase yourself, " said the Egghead, flinging the remnants of acream puff at the horse, which kept Turkey busy for the next fiveminutes. 

Skippy scarcely heard. All he wanted was to have the drive over and tobe alone with his memories. How bold he had been at the end when he hadcrushed her little hand in his! Had she understood--and just what hadshe meant when she had said, "And so it's Jack and Mimi now, isn't it?"

That night at precisely 10. 45 in his sixteenth year, hanging out of thesecond story window of the Kennedy, with a soul above mosquitoes, SkippyBedelle discovered the moon. 

 * * * * *

Forty-eight hours later, Skippy suddenly realized that the hot and coldsymptoms, the loss of appetite, the inability to concentrate his mind oneither "The Count of Monte Cristo" or "Lorna Doone, " the hardness of hisbed, the length of the day were not due to either German measles or thegrippe. He was suffering from something that neither Dr. Johnny's pinkpills, nor his white ones nor the big black ones could alleviate. He wasin love, genuinely, utterly, hopelessly in love. 

CHAPTER XIX

THE URCHIN BEGINS TO BLOOM

THE first result of young love was a sudden aversion to the well-knownbut freckled features of Skippy Bedelle. The examination in thelooking-glass had left him in a condition of abject despair. Only a man, full-fledged and resplendent, could hope to hold the affections of thedazzling Mimi Lafontaine, and what a tousled, scrubby little urchin hewas! That night he spent one dollar and twenty cents, out of a slenderreserve, for toilette accessories, and began the long fight for a partin the middle of his reckless, foaming hair. 

The next day marked a milestone in the sentimental progression of Mr. John C. Bedelle. For the first time in his life, his astonished eyesencountered a little blue envelope inscribed to his name in a large, dashing, unmistakably feminine hand. Neither mother nor sister, aunt orcousin had ever addressed that letter. He picked it up and then set itdown with a sudden swimming feeling. It was postmarked "Farmington. "

"My Lord, if it should be from her, " he said. 

There was, of course, one sure way to solve the difficulty, but Skippywas too overcome by his emotion to imagine it. Instead, he sat down andcontemplated it with a mystical veneration. 

"It can't be. No, no, it can't be from Mimi! Good Lord, no. A girldoesn't write to a man first, " he said, shaking his head. "It's fromSis. It's a joke, and she's got some one else to address it. That's it. "

He opened the letter, which read as follows:

 DEAR JACK, I'm writing you for Clara, who is, as you know, a dreadfully lazy person. School is over and I shall bring Clara back to Trenton with me day after to-morrow. Are you so bored with my dreadful sex or have you made a little exception? Any way, this is to warn you that you may have to be my cavalier once more if we decide to go again to Princeton. 

 Faithfully yours, MIMI. 

 I saw Cora Lantier in New York. She is going up to the Williams Commencement with a _very dear_ friend. Don't tell this to Mr. Sidell. 

There are, of course, three ways of contemplating a letter written by ayoung lady, according to whether the recipient be a friend, is in love, or being in love, loves without hope. Skippy used all three methods. That night he placed four pairs of trousers to press under his mattress, discarded the dicky (a labor saving device formed by the junction of twocuffs and a collar which snapped into place and fulfilled therequirements of table etiquette), and painted the ends of his fingerswith iodine to break himself of the habit of living on his nails. 

On the following Saturday, Mr. Sidell being still, as it were, underabsent treatment, Mr. Turkey Reiter making the fourth, Skippyexperienced the terrifying joy of sitting in the back seat next to MissMimi Lafontaine. 

"You bad boy, why didn't you answer my letter?" said that young lady, after a careful inspection of the embarrassed Skippy had resulted inmuch increased satisfaction. 

"I wrote you three times, " he said, staring at his shoes. 

"Three--then they must have gone to the school. "

"I tore them up, " he said, under his voice. 

Between a feminine nineteen and a masculine fifteen, much ispermissible. Miss Mimi, under protection of the rug, slid her littlehand into his painfully-scrubbed one. 

"Poor fellow!" she said softly. 

"Gee!"

It was not exactly the last word in romance, but it came from the heart, a sort of final gasp as Skippy felt the waters closing above him. Withher hand in his, something rose in his throat and he had to fight backthe dimming of his eyes. By the time they rolled into Princeton therewas no longer need of explanation. He felt that she knew beyond theshadow of a mistake, just what he felt for her, he, Skippy, who hadnever loved before. Of course she was not pledged. That he comprehended. She was yet to be won. The years between them were nothing. JosephineBeauharnais was older than Napoleon. By the time they returned to theschool, he had opened his heart impulsively and spread before theastonished ideal of his affections the treasures of his inventiveimagination. Miss Lafontaine had been sympathetic. She had understood atonce. She had rather lightly passed over the Bedelle Improved Bathtub. The subject, of course, was a delicate one; but the idea ofmosquito-proof stockings had captured her imagination. With her faithacquired he could wait for years the coming opportunity. 

"Why, Jack, I never heard of such an imagination, " she said, convertingan explosive laugh into a sneeze in the nick of time. 

"Oh, that's just a beginning, " he said confidently. "I've got biggerthings than that stored away. "

"Why, you'll be richer than Rockefeller!"

"That's only a small part of it, " he said carelessly. What of course hehad wished her to know, and he flattered himself that he had done itwith great delicacy, was that he was a prize worth waiting for. 

"You didn't tell Mr. Sidell about Cora, did you?" said Mimiirrelevantly, as they arrived at the school and she began anxiously toscan the passing groups. 

"You bet I didn't, good Lord, no, Mimi. "

"I was sure I could trust you, " said Miss Lafontaine, --who of course hadhoped for quite a different issue. 

"Gee! this has been one day, " he said, half smothered with emotion. 

"Has it really?" said the young lady, giving his arm a little squeeze. 

"I shall never, never forget. "

"Jack, that's what they all say. "

Her skepticism pained him. He wanted to do something, something heroicto show her the manly quality of his devotion. 

"I don't suppose there's any chance of your getting permission to comeback with us for dinner, " said Clara Bedelle to Turkey. 

"About as much chance as my passing a Bible exam, " said Turkeycheerfully. 

A great idea smote down on Skippy, --he would accomplish the impossible!

"Swear to keep a secret, Mimi?" he said in a whisper. 

"I swear. "

"I shall call on you at exactly nine thirty to-night. "

"Good gracious, but we're ages away. "

"What difference does that make? There is something I've just got to sayto you. "

"But if they catch you!"

"They won't. "

"But, Jack, how will you get there?"

"I'll come on the run, " said Skippy gorgeously; which proved that if hisexperience was limited he had certain intuitions to build upon. 

When Skippy directly after supper bolted to his room and began to scrubfor the superlative toilette, after collecting a pair of kid gloves fromButcher Stevens and a purple tie from Dennis de Brian de Boru, SnorkyGreen was finally convinced that matters had reached a serious pass. 

"I thought you were in New York, " he said, remembering Skippy's previousdeclaration. 

"What? Oh yes!" Skippy, whose mind was not on consistency, hastilycaught himself. "Oh, Tina! She came down to meet me. "

"What in the mischief are you up to now?"

"For the love of Pete don't bother me, " said Skippy. "Tell you later. Honest, Snorky, it's serious, and I'm in a devil of a hurry. "

He struggled into his best pair of low blacks, and suddenly a newperplexity arose. What would they look like after five miles trampthrough the fields and the dust? Yet if he openly pocketed a shoebrushand cloth, how explain this to the ever-incredulous Snorky? The windowwas open. He simulated a final polish and profiting by a favorablemoment tossed the brush and cloth out into the dark. Then he stationedhimself before the mirror for the final struggle to achieve a part. 

"Looks like last year's toothbrush, " said Dennis de Brian de Boru, viathe transom, his usual defensive position. 

"Looks like the home rooster when the imported bantam has left, " saidSnorky. 

"Looks like a cat that's walked in the mucilage. "

"That'll be quite enough, " said Skippy, whose patience was evaporating. 

"Vaseline'll do the trick, " said Dennis softly. 

Vaseline! Skippy seized upon the idea in desperation. But to his horror, once the part was achieved, the slippery and sticky effect of theflattened hair was horrifying. 

"Where in Moses is that Irishman!" he cried, slamming open the door. 

"Face powder will take the shine off, " said Snorky, after an immersionof the head in the washbasin had aggravated the catastrophe. 

"My Lord, I've got to do something, " said Skippy, almost in tears. Snorky came to his rescue and between a vigorous rubbing with a bathtowel and a liberal sprinkling of talcum powder, an effect was finallyproduced which at least was not shiny. Skippy, who had been glancing athis watch every three minutes, ended his toilette in a whirl. 

"How much money have you got?"

Snorky produced three quarters. 

"I'll send it back to you if I don't return. "

A light burst over Snorky, confirming his worst suspicions. 

"Skippy, " he said, seizing his arm, "you're running away! You're goingon the stage!"

He had not thought of this, but he appropriated the suggestion at onceby avoiding a denial. 

"Snorky, old pal, " he said solemnly, "stand by me now. When it's allover I'll write you. "

"But, good Lord, Skippy--"

"Don't try to stop me. My mind's made up. "

"But I say--"

"I've given my _word_, " said Skippy tragically. "If I'm not back byeight o'clock to-morrow morning, mail this letter to my mother and givethis to the Doctor. Good-bye. God bless you--and I'll pay you back thefirst money I earn. "

CHAPTER XX

THE HEART OF A BRUNETTE

HE recovered the shoebrush from under the window of Tabby, the youngassistant house-master, and tucking it into his pocket, skirted theouter limits of the school, dodged behind a fence, and creeping onall-fours, made a wide detour via the pond and rejoined the high road toTrenton which lay five dusty miles away. Luckily the evening wasoverclouded and the shadows protecting. His problem was not simply toarrive at the Lafontaines' at exactly the hour but to arrive there witha cool and dignified appearance. It was hot, and the derby hat presseddown on the vaselined hair was hotter than anything about him, hottereven than the parched fields and the steaming asphalt which yielded tohis feet. 

"Gosh, I oughter have brought a towel, " he said, when at the end oftwenty minutes he stopped to remove his hat and allow the hot vapors toescape. He sat down and fanned himself vigorously. Then he took off hisnecktie and collar and placed them in his pocket, and finally shed hiscoat under favor of the night. He could scarcely distinguish the roadbeneath him, and several times only saved himself from sprawling on hisnose by a convulsive grasping at a nearby fence. But what did the toil, the heat, or the terrors of the night matter? He was going to see heragain. Not only that but he would come to her surrounded by the romanceof a great danger run, just to sit in her presence, to hear her voice, to see in her eyes some tender recognition of what he had dared for her. This was romance indeed!

A dog came savagely out of the night. How was he to know that a fenceintervened? He ran a quarter of a mile and again sat down. It grewhotter; he was dripping from head to foot. A wagon or two went by, buthe did not dare to ask for a ride, for fear of encountering some agentof the Doctor's secret police. For, perhaps, his absence was alreadydiscovered and the alarm had gone out. 

The heat and the discomfort somewhat interfered with the free play ofhis imagination, but the quality of romance still kept with him. 

"When I'm twenty-one, " he said to himself again and again, in a vaguedefiance of all the hostile powers of Society. Only five years and sixweeks intervened before the glowing horizon of liberty. Did she care?Even that did not matter. She knew what the future held for him. Themain thing, the thing to cling to, was that her heart was kind. Of thatthere could be no question. How gentle and how understanding she hadbeen! He could come to her and tell her anything--absolutely anything!

"Good Lord, what a difference it makes to have some one you can trust, "he said solemnly to the night. "Some one to work for!"

At nine o'clock he reached the outskirts of Trenton, and having cooledoff, put on his collar and necktie. Then he stopped at a stationer's toask his way. A large florid young woman, chewing gum, was behind thecounter, patting down her oily chestnut curls. 

"Say, can you tell me where the Lafontaines live?" he said with an extrapolite bow. 

Fortunately she knew and directed him. 

"You're one of them Lawrenceville boys, ain't you?" she said, eyeingwith curiosity the oozy ruffle of his hair. 

Skippy was shocked at this easy discovery of his youth. 

"Come off. I'm a member of the Princeton faculty, " he said loftily. 

"Well, I think you're one of them Lawrenceville boys, " she said, following him to the door. 

He waved back gaily and went skipping up the street. He arrived beforethe Lafontaine mansion with exactly five minutes to spare. The oldColonial house was set back in a wide plot and masked by convenientfoliage. Skippy, passing down the side wall, sheltered himself behind abush, his heart pumping with excitement, and drew on the gloves which hehad borrowed from Butcher Stevens. Then extracting the shoebrush andcloth from his pocket, he busied himself hurriedly with removing fromhis trousers and shoes all traces of the dusty way he had come. Thisdone, he hid the brush and cloth under the bush and straightened up. Unfortunately either the last preparations or the terrific sentimentalstrain of facing his first call upon a member of the opposite sex had soincreased his temperature that his forehead was again covered withperspiration. 

"Great Willies! I can't go in like this--if I only had ahandkerchief--what am I to do?"

But just at the moment when he had improvised into a towel the mostavailable part of his shirt, his heart stood still at hearing above himthe following conversation:

"Mimi, you're a witch, " said the voice of his sister, "I never wouldhave believed it. "

"Well, my dear, you wanted me to wake him up. I've done it. Goodness, Inever saw any one go down so quickly. I really believe he's going topropose! If you could have seen his funny eyes when he told me thatthere was something he just _had_ to say to me. "

"For heaven's sake keep it up. It's better than soap, Mimi. One look athis hands and I knew he was in love. "

"My dear, what do you think--he's had my photograph for weeks--the one Igave you, of course. Now if that isn't a real romance. . . . "

"He ought to be spanked, that boy--stealing away from school!"

"My dear, he's told me all about his life's ambitions. "

"What's that?"

"It's something about a bathtub--some sort of an invention that's goingto revolutionize the bathtub industry. "

"Then it must be the outside of a bathtub, " said Clara with a sisterlylaugh. "Mimi, I just must hear his proposal. "

"You'll laugh and spoil it all. "

"On my honor!"

Ten minutes later, Miss Mimi Lafontaine put on her kindliest smile asushered in by the maid Mr. John C. Bedelle came magnificently into theroom, spick and span, cool as the cucumber is credited to be at anytemperature; an immaculate purple tie blooming under an unsulliedcollar, with only a slight pollen on the carefully-divided hair. How wasshe to know that, in five minutes, under the sting of betrayedconfidence and broken illusions, a complete moral transformation hadmade of the urchin a man in the embryo, fired by the burning impulses ofthe deadliest hatred?

He did not stumble or wind himself up in the curtain or upset the bowlof goldfish on the slight étagère by the sofa. He came in with a mannerthat was so completely nonchalant that Miss Mimi was manifestlyimpressed. 

[Illustration: "Really, Jack, I'm beginning to suspect you're an oldhand. " _Page 140_]

"Why, Jack, you don't look as though you had _run_ at all, " she saidencouragingly. 

"Oh, I picked up a buggy and took it easy, " he said, seating himself andarranging the trouser crease with nicety. Then having perceived underthe sofa the telltale slippers of Miss Clara Bedelle, he added, "I say, how did you ever keep it from Sis?"

"Oh, she thinks it's another caller, " said Mimi, staring a little. "Really, Jack, I'm beginning to suspect you're an old hand. "

"Well, of course this isn't the first time, " he said, leaning back andsinking his fists in his trousers pockets. 

Miss Mimi gave a gasp of astonishment. 

"Well, I never, and all you said to me too about the photograph and theletters you tore up. "

"Did you really believe all that?" said Skippy with a smile that seemedto cut across his face. His heart was bursting; yet the task of revengewas sweet. "You know Sidell and I are old hunting partners. "

Miss Lafontaine sat upright, forgetting everybody in the dismay of herdiscovery. 

"Jack Bedelle, do you mean to say that it was all fixed up between youtwo?"

Again Mr. John C. Bedelle smiled. 

"Oh, we know a trick or two, even if we're still in school. "

Miss Mimi's look was not such as is generally ascribed to the gentlersex. She bit her lip and said furiously:

"You just tell Mr. Sidell--" and then, quite suffocated with rage, shestopped and flung a little fan, furiously, across the room. 

"Now I see her as she is, " thought Skippy with a healing delight. Aloudhe added: "Oh, if you really want to know the truth about Sidell, justask Sis. She probably put him up to the whole game. "

Now this was rather crude, and at another time Miss Lafontaine wouldhave detected the artifice and consequently divined the wholefabrication, but at present she was quite too angry, particularly whenshe realized that her best friend was a witness to her discomfiture. 

"Just what do you mean by that?" she said angrily. 

"Why, they've been sweet on each other for a couple of years, " he said, with malice aforethought. "Guess you're not on to Sis. She'd stealanything with pants on that came within a mile of her. Ask her sometimeabout the mash notes the plumber's boy used to shoot up to her window, or perhaps you'd better not, it gets her too hot. But anyway I adviseyou to keep your eyes open. " He rose, for the sudden shifting of theslippers back of the sofa warned him it was time to depart. 

"Good-bye, Mimi, " he said carelessly. "Two can play the same game, remember that. "

Then, calculating the moment, he bumped into the étagère, upsetting thegoldfish, and as the dripping figure of Miss Clara Bedelle emerged witha scream, Mr. Skippy Bedelle, Chesterfieldian to the last, departedsaying:

"He laughs best who laughs last. "

 * * * * *

He arrived at the little stationery shop without having seen where hehad been going, his eyes blinded with rage, his mind filled with bitterimprecations. Of his night's infatuation not a vestige remained exceptthe weakness of disillusionment and the suffering of a proud nature. 

"Well, Professor, how was your girl?"

He looked up to see the dark-complexioned lady still methodicallychewing away. 

"She's like all the rest, " he thought darkly, "fooling some man, I bet. "

Then his eyes fell on a group of photographs in the shape of postalcards; a wonderful assortment of fleshlings, of young ladies who dazzleand display abundant charms before the footlights. He remembered that anexplanation was due to Snorky, and that the explanation would have to bevery convincing. One photograph fascinated him; it was so like the wayTina would look, if there were a Tina!

The young lady in graceful tights, legs crossed in a figure four, elbowresting on a marble column, her chin supported by the index finger, wassmiling out at him with a full dental smile. 

"Say, do a fellow a favor?" he said. 

"Sure for a nice boy like you I will, " she said, encouragingly. 

"Just sign across here--it's a joke. "

"Oh, it's a joke?"

"Yes, of course. Sign 'Faithfully yours, '--no--'Fondly yours. '"

"Fondly yours, " said the gum chewer, writing with a flourish. 

"Tina. "

"T--I--N--A. "

"Turner. "

"Indeed, I'll not!" said the girl with sudden indignation. "Turner's myname, and I can't have any such picture--"

"All right, all right, make it 'Tanner' then. "

With the photograph as evidence safely bestowed in an inner pocket, heset out on the long homeward trudge. The weakness was gone, hisimagination was now all on the story he would have to tell Snorky. Heavens, what had been crowded into one short hour;--love, treachery, revenge and triumph! Once a sudden rush of tears caught him, but hefought down the mood. The test had been soul-trying, but the victory washis. So he marched along, blowing out his courage as he chanted adefiant marching song and if Providence had but endowed him with a tail, he would have carried it proudly like a banner as he stalked across thecampus and found his way into the Kennedy. 

"Who is it?" said a startled voice. 

"Hush, it's Skippy. "

"Thank God. "

Snorky jumped up and caught him in his arms with such genuine emotionthat Skippy was profoundly touched, so touched that he almost made aclean breast of this affair--almost but not quite. 

"What happened? You look all shot to pieces, " said Snorky, holding up acandle and gazing at him in awe. 

"It's all over, " said Skippy stonily. 

"Over. "

"She'd have had to give up her career and--and I'm too young yet tosupport her. "

"Honest, Skippy?" said Snorky, with a lingering doubt. 

"Here's all that's left to me now, " said Skippy, and he brought forththe photograph. 

CHAPTER XXI

WORLDLY WISDOM OF SKIPPY BEDELLE

WHEN Skippy Bedelle (rage and disillusionment in his heart) had trampedfive weary miles back from the city which sheltered that angel ofperfidy, Miss Mimi Lafontaine, he said to himself on waking the nextmorning:

"Well, by the Great Horned Spoon, that's one thing I won't bite atagain. " And examining himself in the glass with a new respect--for afterall he had handled the situation with magnificent impertinence and ifthe story was to be retailed in the home circles it would never beintroduced by Miss Clara Bedelle--examining himself, then, with acertain pride and satisfaction he said vaingloriously, "Hurray, I'mvaccinated!"

"How d'ye mean vaccinated?" said Snorky whose head emerged via themorning jersey. 

"Did I say vaccinated?" said Skippy surprised and cautious. 

"You certainly did, " said his chum, who observing the rapidity of hiscontact with the washbasin, the reappearance of the dicky and the twostrokes of the brush which completed his toilette, added with a sigh ofrelief, "I say, old horse, you look more natural. "

Skippy immediately returned to the convenient Tina Tanner. He picked upthe statuesquely posed photograph, contemplated it and returned it toits place with the air of a man on whom a great passion has burneditself out. 

"She was an awfully decent little sort, " he said meditatively, "but itwould have been an awful mess if I'd done it. "

"Done what?"

"Followed her on the stage. "

"Say, whatever made you think you'd succeed on the stage, you chump?"said Snorky, who always retained a lingering doubt when Skippy grewconfidential. 

"Oh, I don't know. "

"Well, the way you got off 'Horatius at the Bridge'--"

Skippy stretched his arms and yawned deliciously. 

"Gee, but a fellow can make an awful fool of himself, " he said, thinkingnow not of the fictitious Tina but of the explanations which must havetaken place between his sister and Miss Lafontaine. 

"A nice wreck you'd have made of your life, you big boob, " said Snorkytaking up the photograph and smelling it curiously to see what perfumean actress employed. "So her name's Tanner, eh?"

"Her stage name. "

"You couldn't have married a woman like that. "

"Not a word against her. "

"Well, anyhow are you vaccinated?"

"Bitten, vaccinated and cured!"

 * * * * *

Now when Skippy spoke thus from his heart it was in absolute faith, without the slightest suspicion of the natural course which a habitinevitably must take. A habit is after all but an acquired appetite, andwhat appetite was ever begun with instant enjoyment! No inveteratesmoker ever appreciated his first cigar and the most persistent oftipplers choked once over the first distasteful introduction to thedemon rum. 

So be it recorded in this history of the sentimental progress of SkippyBedelle. The impulse which sends the boy back to a second trial of thecigar that stretched him pale and nauseated on the ground, or leads himto a new attempt at the alcoholic mixture which scorched his throat, alone may explain how it came to pass that Skippy, after the firstdisillusioning contact with the opposite sex in the person of Miss MimiLafontaine, should in the first week of his summer vacation have fallenunder the despotism of Miss Dolly Travers. 

There were, as will be seen, extenuating circumstances and perhapslikewise much may be explained by the instinctive belief which isimplanted in mankind, that woman is twofold, and that the brunettes ofthe species are less deadly than the blondes, or vice versa, accordingto the first contact. 

When Skippy Bedelle arrived for the long summer vacation at the familyhome at Gates Harbor, he arrived with a fixed program which is heredetailed in the order of its importance. 

1. To grow at least two inches and to acquire an added ten pounds inweight. 

2. To achieve this necessary progression towards his athletic ambitions, to sleep at least fourteen hours of the day and to eat steadily andconsistently during the remaining ten. 

3. To impress the governor with the necessity of increasing hisallowance. 

4. To conceal from his mother the devastation of that portion of hiswardrobe which is not a matter of public display. 

5. To reduce sisters No. 1 and No. 2 to an attitude of proper respect, consistent with the approaching dignity of his sixteen years. 

6. To thrash Puffy Ellis for the third consecutive summer. 

7. To obtain permission for a two weeks' visit to the home of his chum, Snorky Green. 

In all of which, be it observed that the feminine portion of societyoccupied not the slightest place. 

 * * * * *

On a radiant afternoon in mid-June, Skippy, having finished the last barof peanut brittle and made sure that no vestige remained of the box ofassorted chocolates which had preceded it down the Great Hungry Way, assembled three comic weeklies and four magazines, gave the porter aquarter for his ostentatious devotions and descended at the station, with exactly seven cents in his pocket, having calculated his budget toa nicety. 

His patent leathers were in a decidedly shabby condition and crackedover the instep, but his brown and green check suit, the yellow tie andthe new panama with the purple and white band were irreproachably _bonton_. He stood a moment supporting himself on a light bamboo cane, contemplating his dress suit-case, which he acknowledged was not up toform. Not only had the straps rotted away, but there were strangedepressions and bulges in it due to the Waladoo Bird's two hundred andtwenty pounds having fallen upon it. Furthermore, it was stained withthe marks of a root beer orgy and Snorky Green's mistaken efforts toremove the same stains with a pumice stone. 

Skippy after a moment's deliberation, decided not to insult the hackmanwith an offer of seven cents and having consigned the unspeakable bag tothe truckman proceeded on foot twirling his cane and trying to appearunaware of the admiration of the villagers who were particularlyimpressed by his perfect pants. 

The Bedelle homestead was a large ornamental, turreted and bastionedmansion, consonant with Mr. Bedelle's increasing prosperity and Mrs. Bedelle's social importance. 

"Gee, the Governor certainly ought to stand for a raise, " said Skippy tohimself, with a proper appreciation of the velvety lawns, the flowergardens and the green and white stables. Then he remembered the none toobrilliant record of the scholastic year which was sure to come up fordiscussion and fell into a sudden despondency. 

CHAPTER XXII

GIRLS AS AN EPIDEMIC

AS he turned up the walk, sister No. 2, aged fourteen and a half, cameromping off the porch and the following conversation took place. 

"Hello, Jack. "

"Hello, Tootsie. "

"You idiotic boy, why didn't you telegraph?"

"What's the use? I'm here, " said Skippy to whom a quarter of a dollarwas an object of reverence. 

"Aren't you going to kiss me?"

Skippy glanced around. 

"Oh, I suppose so. "

"Good gracious, he's got a cane!"

"Say, who let you put your hair up anyhow!"

"I'm fifteen. "

"Come off. "

"I say, Jack, awful glad to see you, honest, and let's stop fightingthis summer. You help me and I'll help you. "

Skippy looked at her suspiciously. 

"Getting on society airs, " he thought, but out loud he announced: "Allright, Tootsie, but see you don't begin. And if you want to help out, tell the Governor to make my birthday present in cash. I'm awfullystrapped. "

"Now for old Clara, " he said to himself and remembering the lastencounter when he had upset the gold fish over her, he braced himselffor the shock. But to his profound amazement Miss Bedelle was honeyitself. 

"Good gracious, Jack, how big you've grown, " she said after he hadsubmitted to the second sisterly embrace, "and such style, too! What afascinating tie! Dad and mother are out but Sam's just home. Come on upand see how nicely I've arranged your room. How are you anyhow?"

"Hard up, " said Skippy instantly. 

"Would this help any?" said Miss Clara extracting a ten dollar bill froma well-filled purse. 

Skippy gulped in astonishment. 

"What's the matter?"

"How do you mean?"

"Gee, sis, are you going to be married?"

"The idea, you funny boy!" said his sister, blushing violently. "Run onnow and see Sam. "

"What's the matter with everyone anyhow?" said Skippy to himself. "There's a reason. There certainly is a dark reason. "

Still pondering over the motives for this unaccountable reception heproceeded along the hall, to the room of his heart's idol, his brotherSam, senior at Yale and star of the nine, Sambones Bedelle, known atschool as Skippy the first, about whose athletic prowesses the traditionstill remained. 

"Who's that?" said the great man at the sound of his knock. "Skippy?Come in and let's look you over. "

"Hello, Sambo, " said the young idol-worshipper, sidling in. 

The older brother caught his hand, slapped him on the back and held himoff for inspection. 

"By Jove, you young rascal, you're sprouting up fast. Whew, what a suit!Pretty strong, bub--pretty strong. "

"I say, do you think--"

"Never mind. I've worn worse. Paid for?"

"No-o--not yet. "

"Anything left of the allowance?"

"Sure. "

"Not possible!"

"Seven cents. "

"Could you use a five spot?"

"Gee, Sam!"

"All right, all right. Pick it out over there on the bureau. How's yourconduct?"

"Pretty good. "

Skippy, perched on the window-seat, watched with an approving eye thesplendors that a college education had bestowed. Sam's hair partedwithout a rebellious ripple and lay down in perfect discipline. Therenever were such immaculate white flannel trousers, such faultlessbuckskin shoes and tie, while the socks and the touch of handkerchiefwhich bloomed from the breastpocket were a perfect electric blue. 

"Well, Skippy, I'll have to look you over, " said Sam carelessly. "Timeyou had a few pointers. What did you do at school?"

"Substitute on the eleven and left field on the house nine, " saidSkippy, who understood at once the meaning of such an inquiry. 

"First rate. Haven't started on the demon cigarette yet?"

Skippy hesitated. 

"Let's see your fingers, " said the mentor, who perceiving no telltalestraces of nicotine grunted a qualified approval. "Well, how much?"

"Oh, just a few whiffs now and then up the ventilator. You know how itis, Sambo!"

"Cut it out this summer. Your business is to grow. Savvy? If ever Icatch you, you young whipper-snapper--"

"All right, Sam. "

Skippy the first held him a moment with a stern and disciplinary eye andthen relaxing, said as he contemplated the hang of his trousers beforethe mirror, "I hear you've started in to be a fusser. "

"Who told you that?" said Skippy with the rising inflection. 

"I ran in on Turkey Reiter. "

"Oh, " said Skippy relaxing. "With Miss Lafontaine? That was all a put-upgame!"

Sam considered him and noting the fatuous smile shook his head and said:

"Well, bub, you're at the age when they fall fast and easy. Now listento a few pearls of wisdom. Got your ears open?"

"Fire away, Sambo!"

"If you've _got_ to fall and you will--sure you will, don't shake yourhead--if you've got to fall, don't trail around on an old woman's skirtsand get treated like a dog--fetch and carry stuff. Look the field overand pick out something young and grateful. Something easy. Somethingthat'll look up to you. Let her love you. Be a hero. Savvy?"

"Huh! Girls give me a swift pain, " said Skippy with a curl of his upperlip. 

"Wait and count the pains, " said Sam with a grin. "You're at a bad age. Well, I have spoken. What's the use of having an older brother if hecan't do you some good?"

It being only four o'clock, Skippy decided to look up the Gutter Pup, who with the Egghead, represented the school contingent at Gates Harbor. Lazelle, more familiarly known as the Gutter Pup, Gazelle, Razzle-dazzleand the White Mountain Canary according to the fighting weight of theaddressee, lived just across lots. 

With three months' respite ahead from the tyranny of the chapel bell, three months of home cooking, fifteen dollars in his pocket and nothingto do but to romp like a colt over pastures of his own choosing, Skippywent hilariously over the lawns, hurdled a hedge and hallooed from belowthe well-known window. 

"Hi there, old Razzle-Dazzle, stick your head out!"

A second and a third peremptory summons bringing no response, he wentcautiously around the porch. 

"Why it's Jack Bedelle, " said the Gutter Pup's sister from a hammock. "Gracious, I never should have known you!"

"Hello yourself, " said Skippy, acknowledging with a start the differencea year had brought to the tomboy he had known. "Say, you've done somegrowing up yourself. "

He ended in a long drawn out whistle which Miss Lazelle smilinglyaccepted as a tribute. 

"I say, Bess, where's the old Gazelle?"

"Charlie? Why he's gone out canoeing with Kitty Rogers. "

"What!"

Miss Lazelle repeated the information. Skippy was too astounded toremember his manners. He clapped his hat on his head, sunk his fists inhis pockets and went out the gate. The Gutter Pup spending his time likethat! He made his way to the club where more shocks awaited him. On theporch was the Egghead feeding ice cream to Mimi Lafontaine. On thetennis courts Puffy Ellis and Tacks Brooker were playing mixed doubles!Skippy could not believe his eyes. What sort of an epidemic was thisanyhow? He went inside and immediately a victrola started up a two-stepand lo and behold, there before him whirling ecstatically about thefloor, held in feminine embraces, were Happy Mather and Joe Crocker, theirreconcilables of the old gang!

"Hello, Skippy, shake a foot, " said Happy Mather encouragingly. "Want tobe introduced?"

"Excuse me, " said Skippy loftily. "What's happened to the crowd? Can'tyou think of anything better than wasting your time like this?"

"Wake up!" said Happy, making a dive for a partner. "You're walking inyour sleep. "

Skippy went sadly out and down to the bridge where he perched on a pileand contemplated the swirling currents with melancholy. What hadhappened? After an hour of bitter rumination he rose heavily andengrossed in his own thoughts passed two ice-cream parlors, utterlyforgetful of the sudden wealth in his pockets. On the way home heperceived something white and pink moving lightly in airy freedom, whileat her side laden to the shoulder with sweaters, rugs, a camp stool anda beach umbrella was Sam. He came rebelliously to the home porch andthen hastily ducked around to the side entrance, for the porch was infull possession of Clara who was entertaining a group of men. He soughtto gain his room noiselessly via the back parlor and came full uponTootsie who was showing a book of photographs to a pudgy, red-hairedboy, who blushed violently at his intrusion and stood up, until he hadacknowledged the embarrassed introduction and escaped. 

"What in thunder's gotten into everybody anyhow?" he said to himselfdisconsolately. "Girls, girls everywhere. The place is full of them andeverybody twosing, twosing! What in Sam Hill is a regular fellow to do!Gee, but it's going to be a rotten summer!"

So in this melancholy seclusion, gazing out of his window, at the greenlandscape vexed by the omnipresent flash of white skirts, uneasilyconscious that a crisis had arrived in his social progress that wouldhave to be met, Skippy began to commune with himself and likewise toruminate. His first contact with female perfidy had destroyed half hisfaith in woman; never again could he trust a brunette. Some day he mightpermit himself to be appreciated by a blonde, but it would take a lot ofconvincing. But it is one thing to have fixed principles and another toresist the contagions of a whole society. Virtue is one thing butloneliness is another. 

"What the deuce is a regular fellow going to do?" he said. But alreadyhis resentment had given way to a brooding anxiety. All at once, heremembered that he too had loved. Something that had been dormant awoke, as the touch of spring awoke the great outdoors. 

 "For I must love some one, And it may as well be you. "

The refrain haunted him. Had the time come when even he would have todescend?

CHAPTER XXIII

THE BLONDE OF THE SPECIES

SUNDAY was a nerve-racking problem in days when the New Englandtradition still held. There was no fishing, no tennis, no baseball, andno golf. Picnics were taboo. There was of course a large amount ofeating to be done, but after fish-balls, griddle cakes, and pork andbeans for breakfast, a heavy sermon, and a heavier roast beef fordinner, the long afternoon had to be lived through in a sort ofpenitential expiation. One dozen fed-to-bursting, painfully primpedyoung human colts, ranging from fifteen to seventeen years of age, gathered in the Gutter Pup's barn and mournfully debated the eternalquestion of what to do. 

"It's too cold to sneak up to the old swimming hole, " said Tacksdisconsolately. 

"Why not have a few rounds with the mitts?" said the Gutter Pup eagerly. 

"In these duds?" said Happy Mather, who preferred to stand because whenhe sat down the Sunday collar pinched his throat. "Nothing doing! Thankyou, but my governer's hand is still strong!"

"We might organize a Browning Society, " said Puffy Ellis, who came fromBoston. 

"Bright boy!"

"Oh, well, since we 're all dressed up and nowhere to go, we might aswell do the society racket and call on the sweet things. "

"Girls!" said Skippy, sarcastically. "My aunt's cat's pants! Joe, what'sgot into you! You used to be human last summer. Girls! Girls! I vote weall go out and pick a bunch of dandelions for Joe Crocker to carryround. "

"Hold up, " said the Gutter Pup. "You give me an idea. "

"If it's got anything to do with skirts, " said Skippy, "au revoir andlikewise good-by. I resign. "

"Shut up! When Razzle-dazzle starts to think, give him a chance, " saidHappy Mather. "Who asked your opinion? You're nothing but a tadpole, anyhow. "

"Well, what's the idea?" said Tacks. 

"It's a good one, " said the Gutter Pup slowly. "It's a gag we used topull off in the old Murray Hill Gang, the winter I put Spider Martinaway in seven rounds. Spider was no great shakes with the mitts but hehad some bright ideas. This is one of them. How many are we?"

"Twelve. "

"Just right. Only it's got to be played dead serious, no horseplay, kiddin', or rough stuff. "

Just half an hour later Miss Connie Brown, aged sixteen, who was yawningover a novel on the chaise-lounge of her bedroom, was electrified intoaction by the announcement that two gentlemen callers were waiting forher in the parlor. Miss Connie was in excellent health, weighing onehundred and sixty pounds, rather freckled, and quite accustomed to watchher girl friends enjoying themselves in the ballroom. She bounded downthe stairs and arrived, slightly out of breath, to find the Gutter Pupand Skippy stiffly erect. 

"Allow me to present my friend, Mr. Bedelle!" said the Gutter Pup in thecorrect tones of an undertaker. 

Miss Connie shook hands vigorously and said, beaming with surpriseddelight:

"I think it's just too darling of you to drop in. Every one's out and Iwas trying to read a poky old book. We'll have tea and there's somechocolate cake left. Course I know your sister, Mr. Bedelle. I thinkshe's just the dandiest girl. "

"I hope your father and mother are well, " said Skippy gravely. 

"What? Oh, yes! They're all right. Let's be cozy and camp down overhere. "

"And your sister?" said the Gutter Pup with equal punctiliousness. 

"Sis? Oh, she's fine and dandy, " said Miss Connie, curling up on thesofa, after lighting the lamp under the tea kettle. 

Skippy and the Gutter Pup after this irreproachable beginning, sat upstiffly and, retiring into a set silence, stared very hard at theirhostess. 

"You'll have a bit of chocolate cake, won't you?" said the young lady, wondering how to open the conversation. 

"Thank you. "

"And you, Mr. Bedelle?"

"Thank you. "

At this moment the bell rang and the maid announced:

"Mr. Mather and Mr. Crocker callin' on you, Miss Connie. "

Miss Brown could not believe her ears. Such a thing had never happenedbefore, even in her happiest dreams. If her sister could only see hernow! She gave a hurried calculating glance at the chocolate cake andwent joyfully more than halfway to meet the new arrivals. The fourconspirators, after formal greetings, ranged themselves in a semicircle, stiffly balanced on the edges of their chairs, hands on their knees, andwaited for their hostess to play with the conversation. 

"Did you see Maude Adams in her new piece this spring?" said MissConnie, who began to fidget with the cups and carefully cut the cakeinto five exact divisions. 

As this question was addressed to the company in general, the fourvisitors maintained a frozen attention. 

"I'm just crazy about Maude Adams. I went three times, " said MissConnie, who found that five teacups choked up the table in the mostdisconcerting way. "You like Maude Adams, don't you--er--Mr. Mather?"

"I like Maude Adams. "

"And you, Mr. Brooker?"

"I like Maude Adams. "

Miss Connie was staring at the teapot desperately, seeking for some newtopic of conversation, when again the bell rang and two more callerswere announced. Miss Connie's Cinderella-like enthusiasm gave way to afeeling of panic. She whispered hoarsely to the maid to bring two morecups and surreptitiously made a new allotment of the chocolate cake. Thenew arrivals inquired solemnly after the health of Miss Connie's mother, father and sister, and then joined the expectant silence. When the younglady in turn had discovered that the new callers liked Maude Adams, allmental processes came to an end and the sound of the clock from themantel fell like the blows of a hammer in the room. 

When the fourth relay arrived, her complexion took on a bright red tingeand her agitation was such that she poured the cream into the cake andbroke two cups. 

"Did you see her!" said the Gutter Pup ecstatically, after they hadallowed the pent-up hilarity to die out behind the sheltering hedge. "Skippy, old top, when that last bunch arrived, I thought she certainlywas going down for the count. "

"Her eyes were jumping and she was breathing like a horse. "

"Well, how do you like the idea?"

"Best Sunday afternoon I ever spent. "

"Where away now?"

"I'd like to work it on Tootsie. "

"Hold up--my sister needs it more than yours. "

The point was debated and as no decision could be reached it was decidedto keep to the regular program. The afternoon was a huge success fromthe point of view of the male phalanx. The destruction was enormous. Oneor two young ladies held out until the fifth relay but almost collapsedat the fourth. 

"'Course they'll all get together to-morrow and have it in for us, " saidthe Gutter Pup, chortling. "But never mind, it was worth it. Did youever see anything as idiotically solemn as Tacks Brooker? When hearrives they certainly throw up the sponge. "

"Have we time for another?"

"Sure, it's only a quarter of six. We'll put this one over hard, for shecertainly needs taking down. "

"Who?"

"Dolly Travers. Don't know her? You will. "

Miss Dolly Travers received them with the manner of a Dresdenshepherdess just stepping from the mantelpiece and Skippy took thepetite hand gingerly, as though afraid that anything so delicate andbrittle would break at the touch. The voice of his brother's worldlywisdom seemed to sound in his ears:

"Pick out something young and grateful. Be a hero. "

Miss Travers was undeniably young, if artful, and moreover she was notof the dark and deceptive class of brunettes, but a blonde, with eyes asopen and guileless as the blue of the June day. She had solved theproblem of the classification which as naturally marks the feminineprogress as long trousers indicates the man, by bobbing her hair; and, though the subterfuge seemed to afford much amusement to certain of hersex, it immediately separated her from the pigtails. 

There was something about her that appealed instantly to Skippy andinspired confidence, something cool and dainty and at ease. She did notexpress either surprise or excessive delight at their entrance. Therewas something simple and frank about everything she did. He appreciatedit and fell to wishing that Tootsie would be more like her, lesscoquettish and more of a good comrade. 

"Well, what do you know?" said Dolly, looking at the Gutter Pup. 

"Nothing. "

"I hope your mother and father are well, " said Skippy, true to theformula. 

"Gracious! Are you trying to make conversation?" said Dolly, beginningto laugh, "Don't sit on the edge of your chairs, boys, like monkeys on astick; sit back and be comfortable. "

Happy Mather and Tacks appeared with gloomy ceremony. 

"Is this the first time you ever paid a call?" said the young lady whenHappy had opened the question of the family health. "What is the matterwith you boys? You look too ridiculous for words; sit back, stick yourhands in your pockets, and look natural. "

Again the bell rang and the sounds of the third relay were heard in thehall. Miss Dolly glanced quickly at the four solemnities and thensuspiciously out of the window where relays four and five were lurkingunder the trees, suppressed a smile, and came to a sudden decision. 

"My mother and father are in perfect health, my sister is in perfecthealth, how are yours?" she said, as Puffy Ellis started to clear histhroat. "No, no, don't sit down. You're much too imposing. Mr. Crocker, you take one side of the fireplace and Mr. Ellis the other, and pleasedon't look so gawky. You aren't really afraid of one little girl, areyou? And by the way, Charlie Lazelle, go out on the porch and call inthe others. "

"Others?" said the Gutter Pup, trying to save the day by hiscat-and-cream expression. 

"The others who are hiding under the willow, " said Dolly lightly. "Hurryup, because it's six o'clock and Daddy will be back any moment. He'ssuch a bear about the boys I go with. It's a marvelous chance for him tolook you over. Joe Crocker, sit down at the piano. "

"On Sunday?" said Joe, startled out of his attitude. 

"Don't worry, we're not going to dance. We're going to make a goodimpression on father. "

When Mr. Travers drew up ten minutes later he beheld eleven sheepishyoung gentlemen huddled in a circle in the middle of the parlor intoningfrom hymnbooks the measures which Joe Crocker pounded out from the pianounder the solemn inspection of Miss Dolly Travers. 

"Great heavens! What's this?" said Mr. Travers, who was the mostunorthodox of men. "What in mischief are you up to now?"

"It's my Sunday School class, " said the young lady, with difficultseriousness. "We're meeting every week. It won't annoy you too much, will it, father?"

CHAPTER XXIV

RESULT OF A BROTHER'S ADVICE

THE first dance of the summer took place the following Saturday, and theentire feminine contingent immediately declared war on Miss DollyTravers, who entered escorted by four cavaliers and subdivided eachdance. 

While others more fortunately endowed with rhythmic feet swayed andcircled about the ballroom with the little Dresden china blonde, Skippy, who guarded in his arms a pink and white filmy scarf, glowered acrossthe vacant chair at Puffy Ellis, who had been favored with thesafekeeping of the favorite's fan. 

"Jack, you're perfectly ridiculous, " said Sister Clara, who did notrelish the competition. "The idea of making a fool of yourself over achild of twelve that ought to be in bed long ago. Haven't you anypride?"

"Kitty, kitty, " said Skippy softly. He could not be bothered with suchthings as sisters. His mind was made up. He glared over at Puffy andsaid to himself: "To-night I'll give him his choice. Either he gets offthe horizon, or I tear the hide off him. "

He would protect his rights in the good old-fashioned way, even if hehad to thrash a dozen of them!

"Why, Jack!" said Dolly, whirling up at this moment, and sinking backinto the scarf which he hurriedly draped about her. "You look like bloodand thunder. You're not jealous, are you?"

"Oh, no!"

"Well then?"

"Why did you give Puffy Ellis that fan?"

"Poor Puffy! He doesn't dance, either. "

"Lord, I'll dance by next Saturday, " said Skippy miserably, "or break aleg. "

"Foolish boy, of course you must dance! If I sit this out with you, willit make you feel any better?"

"Will it!"

"We'll go on the porch and you'll try a one-step. Oh, no one will see. Gracious! Don't look so terrified. "

Skippy's answer was something between a gulp and a gurgle. 

"Don't you want _me_ to teach you?" said Dolly in the velvetiest voicein the world. 

"I'll try; I'll try anything you say, " he said, breathing hard, "only Isay, Dolly, remember a cart-horse has done more dancing than I everhave. "

"The two-step is frightfully easy--you'll see, " said the young lady whenthey had reached the dark end of the piazza. "It's just one-two tomusic. Put your arm around me!"

"What?"

"You goose! How can you dance if you don't?" said Dolly in a coolprofessional manner. "Take my hand. So! Now just walk in rhythm. "

When Skippy for the first time in his life had actually closed his armaround a feminine waist and clutched at the outstretched hand, he had asensation of terrifying dizziness, such as had once overcome him when ona dare he had poised himself thirty feet in the air for his first highdive. 

"Begin! One, two, left foot, to the music!"

Skippy blindly and obediently began to walk. He walked all over thelittle feet. He walked on his own. He walked into a chair and ricochetedfrom a table with a bump that bounced them off the railing. 

"That's enough!" said Dolly in a slightly discouraged voice. "Gracious!You mustn't grab me like that. You're not drowning. "

"Drowning's nothing to this, " said Skippy, rubbing his forehead. "Yousee it's hopeless. "

"Of course it isn't hopeless. If that great big lummox of a TacksBrooker can dance aren't you ashamed of yourself to give up like that?"

"I'll never dance another step, " said Skippy sulkily. 

"The idea, Jack Bedelle! I want you to dance, and dance you shall!" saidDolly, stamping her foot. "Do you understand?"

[Illustration: He balanced carefully, stretched out one arm to encirclean imaginary waist. _Page 172_]

"Don't rub it in, Dolly. "

"Foolish boy!" said the young lady, squeezing his arm. "Do you think Iwant to dance all summer long with _other_ men?"

Three-quarters of an hour later Skippy again, but alone, reached theprotecting shadows. Again the orchestra was beating out an exhilaratingmeasure. 

"You bet I'm not going to let her dance with other men, " he said underhis breath. He balanced carefully, stretched out one arm to encircle animaginary waist and started heavily to tread the illusive measure. Suddenly he realized that he was not alone. Farther down a couple wereswaying in the shadows. Then Dolly's voice reached him. 

"The idea! Puffy, of course you can dance. If Jack Bedelle can learn, you ought to be ashamed to give up. "

"Skippy dance!"

"Of course, foolish boy! Do you want to sit and watch him dance with me_all_ summer?"

That evening after he had escorted the triumphant Dolly Travers home incompany of four other victims, Skippy went heavily upward to his room. 

"Hello there!" said the big brother from his bed. 

"Hello, Sambo, " said Skippy, slinking in disconsolately. 

"What's the matter, bub? You look like a plucked chicken. You've beenmoping around for a week. What is the matter with you anyhow?"

"What is the matter?" said Skippy, staring at him. 

"Exactly, what is the matter?"

"The matter is, I took your advice, " said Skippy reproachfully. "Youtold me to pick out something young and easy. "

"Well?"

"Well, I did it, " said Skippy, who then, without noticing Mr. Sam'sgrowing interest, began to unburden himself. 

 * * * * *

Three days later, about five in the afternoon, Skippy emerged frombehind the Gutter Pup's barn, leaving Mr. Puffy Ellis to readjusthimself with more painful leisure. Skippy was somewhat bruised himself, and his clothes were a sight to behold, but he was happy. Mr. PuffyEllis had finally seen the light and one obstacle at least had beenremoved from the summer. 

"I may not be much shakes on my feet as yet, " said Skippy to himselfgrimly, "but thank the Lord I can use my fists. " He remembered certaingorgeous passages in "The Count of Monte Cristo" and, thinking of whatstill remained to be done, said tragically, "So much for _one_!"

Suddenly, in front of the Travers home, he beheld a buckboard draw up, and as with rising anger he pressed forward for a view of the nextrival, Miss Dolly Travers tripped down, gave her hand delightedly, andsprang to the seat. 

Another rival, another Puffy Ellis to crush! Unmindful of anything buthis consuming jealousy, he strode forward, fists doubled and glowering. The next moment the carriage had swung up and passed him. Miss DollyTravers, blissfully entranced with her new conquest, had not evennoticed him, standing there humbly in the road! But worse than that--oh, perfidy of perfidies--at the reins was no other than the great man ofthe university, his brother Mr. Sambones Bedelle!

CHAPTER XXV

ANTICS OF A TALKING MACHINE

TOOTSIE BEDELLE, in the days following the opening of the summer seasonat Gates Harbor, was considerably mystified by the actions of the familyphonograph. Now while a talking machine is admittedly endowed with onehuman attribute, it is supposed to be a talking and not a walkingmachine. Yet unless it were endowed with motive power, how explain thesudden oddities of its appearances and disappearances?

The evening after the first hop at the club, Tootsie broke upon thefamily dinner table with the frantic announcement:

"The phonograph's gone! Stolen!"

"Stolen!" said Skippy incredulously. 

"Stolen!" said Mr. Bedelle with his eat 'em alive expression. 

"Why it was there this morning, " said Clara. 

"Well, it's not there now and it wasn't there this afternoon!"

The entire Bedelle family broke for the parlor. There in its accustomedcorner was the phonograph. When quiet had been restored Tootsie againannounced. 

"It was _not_ there this afternoon!"

"Who was there, Tootsie dear?" said Clara maliciously. 

Tootsie's reply woke up Mr. Bedelle, who considered himself a nervousdyspeptic and, being already in a state of antidigestive excitation, glowered and imposed silence on the entire younger generation. 

"Well, it's _my_ phonograph, anyhow!" said Tootsie sulkily, and dinnerover she hastened to the parlor. The phonograph was still there. Shewent to bed a little shaken in her convictions. But the next morning, returning early from the beach, she happened to glance into the parlor. The phonograph had disappeared again! Tootsie could not believe hereyes. She advanced cautiously and felt with both hands, but her gropingfingers encountered nothing but thin air. Then she searched behind thecurtains, moved the furniture and opened all the hall closets. There wasno question about it this time, the phonograph certainly had vanishedfrom the house!

Half an hour later, as Mr. And Mrs. Bedelle were sauntering back fromthe morning plunge, the frantic figure of Miss Tootsie came flying downthe road. 

"Good gracious, Tootsie! What _has_ happened?" exclaimed Mrs. Bedelle, trying to remember whether the dioxygen and the bandages had beenunpacked. 

"It's gone!"

"Gone? What, who, where?"

"The phonograph's gone again. "

"Now Tootsie, " said Mr. Bedelle, elevating a cautionary finger. 

"Don't agitate yourself, John, " said Mrs. Bedelle. 

"Father, it is gone! I saw it!"

"Saw it?"

"I mean I saw it wasn't there and I searched everywhere. I saw it withmy own eyes, " said Tootsie incoherently, and between rage and tears sherepeated her account in a manner to be completely unintelligible. Mr. Bedelle was a theorist afflicted with indigestion. He carefully selectedhis diet with due regard for starch values and never ate a raw tomatowithout first carefully removing the seeds. He was likewise particularlycareful never to sit down to a process of digestion in an agitated mood. His irritation therefore considerably aggravated by his daughter's caseof nerves, he hastened on to the house. 

"I looked everywhere, Daddy, honest I did and it--" Suddenly Tootsiestopped and her jaw fell. There in its accustomed place, reposing on thetable, was the phonograph. 

"Tootsie!" said Mr. Bedelle in puffy rage. 

"Yes, Daddy. "

"Go to that machine. Put your hand on it. Feel it. Is it or is it not aphonograph?"

"It is. "

"Is it yours?"

"Yes, Daddy. "

"Write out fifty times 'I must not get excited before mealtime, ' Don'tleave the house until you have done it. "

"Very well, Daddy. "

Mr. Bedelle went to his easy-chair on the back porch and began to fanhimself. Tootsie, staring at the phonograph, began seriously toconsider. Her suspicions were aroused and her first suspicion was theinstinctive one of sister to sister. 

"Good gracious! I believe the child thinks I did it, " said Clara, atluncheon, after Tootsie's stare had remained in fixed accusation uponher. 

"Not a word! Not another word about that phonograph, " said Mr. Bedellewrathfully, "If this whole family has got to be upset every time I sitdown to the table, I will have the whole thing made into mincemeat. "

"Well, it's my phonograph, " said Tootsie sullenly, and immediatelydeparted for her room--by request. 

For two days the phonograph remained quiescent, but about this time MissClara Bedelle announced that some one had been tampering with herfigure. 

"Your figure, Clara? How shocking!" said the older brother. 

"My dressmaker's figure, and what's more, some one, " said Clara, looking hard at Tootsie, "_Some one_ has been in my closet and disturbedmy dresses!"

"How _very_ strange, " said Tootsie sarcastically. "Are you sure it isn'tyour imagination--child?"

"And I know who did it. "

"Perhaps you know, too, who stole my phonograph, " said Tootsie angrily. 

The next afternoon the phonograph departed for four hours. Tootsiesearched her sister's bedroom and then called Skippy into consultation. 

"It's Clara all right, " said Skippy. "We must set a watch on her. "

"She has a mean and spiteful nature. She does it just to get mepunished. "

"Leave it to me. "

"What will you do?"

"Say, what's it worth?"

"What do you mean?"

"What do I get if I catch her red hot?"

"I'll give a dollar, " said Tootsie recklessly. 

"That's too much, " said Skippy, with an appearance of generosity. "I'llsleuth for a quarter a day. Cash in advance. But my orders go. Savvy?"

Tootsie paid down the fee, and following instructions departed nextmorning with the family for the beach, while Skippy, returning acrosslots, wriggled on his stomach over the lawn and slipped into the houseby the cellar window. For three days Tootsie duly paid out her quarterand received the most comforting of reports. On the fourth day, however, a discussion arose. 

"'Course if you sit there, no one's goin' to come, " she said, fingeringher last quarter. "I know it's Clara by the look in her eyes. "

"Sit there! What kind of a sleuth do you think I am?" he saidindignantly. "Look here. See that phonograph--see anything queer aboutit? Pick it up. "

Instantly the grating sounds of a dinner bell were heard and a horriblecrash. 

"Lookout! Don't drop it, you chump! See that string that passes down theback of the wall and into the closet?" said Skippy, proudly exhibiting apatent alarm which he had constructed with the aid of a delicatelybalanced dishpan. "I'm in the dining-room under the table. Well what?"

"Heavens! If Daddy ever sets that off!"

"He won't. You bet, I'll see to that, " said Skippy hastily. "Well what?Do I get another quarter?"

There was a slight mental indecision after which the quarter camereluctantly to the detective. Tootsie went thoughtfully down to thebeach. The new method did redound to the stability of the phonograph, but was Skippy really working as rapidly as he could?

"I should have offered a dollar and no more, " said Tootsie to herself. "If this keeps up I'll be broke in a week. "

So distressing was this outlook, that her mind refused to be diverted, and after a brief hesitation she returned to the house, intent on a moresatisfactory financial arrangement. Now Tootsie was as fond of mysterystories as Skippy himself, and so with due regard to etiquette shedodged down the hedge, slunk behind the lilacs, and noiselessly letherself into the dining-room window. Then, cautiously, on hands andknees, she approached the mysteries of the dining-room table, behind thered cloth of which Skippy was to be waiting. 

"Hist! It's me, " she said in a wary whisper. Then, having consumed tenminutes in moving six feet serpent fashion across the creaky floor, shegained the table. Skippy was not there. She rose violently, bumping herhead, scrambled out and rushed into the parlor. The phonograph likewisehad disappeared. 

"He's on the trail at last, " she thought excitedly. "Hurray!"

But at that precise moment the strangest of strange, uncanny sounds washeard. Tootsie stood stock still and listened with a pumping heart. There was no question about it, the phonograph was gone, yet faintly, like a sinking moan, she heard, she was sure she heard, the thin, tinnysounds of a Sousa two-step. The room was dim, the house deserted. Forone brief moment she stood panic-stricken, poised for flight. Then sheshook her head angrily. 

[Illustration: The partner of his arms, escaping, rolled over towardsTootsie. _Page 182_]

"Fiddlesticks, phonographs don't have ghosts!"

And listening more intently, she gradually located the familiar strainsas coming from the distant carriage house. In a fever of expectancyTootsie flew across the lawns and gained the open door. Above her thephonograph was pumping out the thrilling measures of the latesttwo-step, but what puzzled her immediately were the scuffling, shiftingsounds, like a scurry of rats, which accompanied it. Then a suspicion ofthe truth came to her and she tiptoed up the stairs. On the open floorSkippy with his arms about a strange shape was painfully treading in andout of a maze which, with a bench, a barrel and two chairs, he hadarranged to visualize the perils of the ballroom. 

"Thief!"

Skippy started, shied into the bench and went over backwards while thepartner of his arms, escaping, rolled over towards Tootsie, discoveringunder Clara's best organdie dress the net-work of wire which made up themissing dressmaker's form!

CHAPTER XXVI

CONTAINING SOME HIGH MELODRAMA

THERE are great moments in life when the acquired veneer of societydrops away and human beings revert to type. Tootsie lay down on her backand kicked her legs in the air, howling with glee. Skippy, disentanglinghimself from the bench, rose with slow deliberation. He saw that hefaced a crisis. If Tootsie, now rolling before him in hysterical agony, ever was allowed to tell such a story as this, there would be no futurefor John C. Bedelle but to ship before the mast. Skippy thought hard andSkippy had the instincts of a diplomat. He decided to begin with a lightconciliatory manner. 

"Well, Tootsie, old girl, you've got the goods on me. What's yourprice?"

Tootsie's reply was a succession of hysterical gasps that sounded like achild with the whooping cough laughing over a comic section. 

"What's your price?" Skippy repeated more firmly, but striving tomaintain a sickly smile. 

"OW! OW! OW!" said Tootsie, holding in her sides. 

Skippy began to be alarmed. He thought a moment and then carefullyremoved the dressmaker's form and hid it behind a packing-case. But thesight of Skippy's dancing companion brought forth a fresh attack ofhysterics. Then he had recourse to water and a dripping oily sponge. Thesight of this so affected Tootsie that she rose precipitately andstaggered to a chair. Skippy at once abandoned the sponge andsympathetically proffered his handkerchief. 

"It's goin' to cost me a lot of money, " he thought, considering her withanxiety. He had fifteen dollars stowed away with the intention of addingit to the cash returns of his approaching birthday and acquiring hisfirst dress suit. He made a mental surrender and advancing to thesomewhat calmer Tootsie, a third time asked:

"Well, come on! What's your price?"

"Thief!" said Tootsie, all at once remembering her grievance. 

"Oh, I say, can't you take a joke?"

"A joke! Wait'll I get even with you, Mr. Smarty!"

"Go easy. Name your terms. "

"And I paid you to watch it!" said Tootsie, whose anger began to rise asher respiration returned. 

Skippy mournfully admitted to himself that this had been an unnecessaryaggravation. 

"Shucks! You didn't think I was going to keep the money, did you?" hesaid, bringing out a dollar bill and tendering it humbly. 

Tootsie put the bill from her with the gesture of a tragedy queen, stoodup, straightened her skirt and said:

"Just you wait, thief!"

"What are you going to do?"

"My business. "

"You're not going to tell?" said Skippy, who had no doubt of herintention. 

"Oh dear no! Oh no indeed!" said Tootsie, moving to depart. 

Skippy sprang ahead, slammed the door, locked it and pocketed the key. 

"What good does that do?" said Tootsie disdainfully. 

"You'll not leave this room until you swear a solemn oath, " said Skippydesperately. 

"All right, I guess I can wait if you can, " said Tootsie, settling down. "But I pity you when Dad gets hold of you--thief!"

Skippy deliberated, resolved on anything short of murder to stifle thethreatening exposure. Sterner methods were necessary. All at once hiseye spied a coil of rope in the corner and he sprang to it with a shout. 

"What are you going to do?" said Tootsie wrathfully. 

"I am going to tie and gag and leave you to starve, " said Skippy, swinging a lasso. 

There was a short and painful tussle in which his necktie was torn toshreds and he surrendered a certain amount of hair, but at the end ofwhich, Miss Tootsie, tied hand and foot to a chair, was propped upagainst a pillar, while her conqueror proceeded to roll up hishandkerchief with the evident intention of applying a gag. 

"You'll like it when the rats come around, " he said gloomily. 

"Fiddlesticks! You can't scare me, " said Tootsie with alarming calm. 

"And there are bats too, don't forget the bats that get their claws inyour hair, " said Skippy, approaching with the gag, "and not a soul tohear your cries, you tattle-tale!"

"You'll get the licking of your life, " said Tootsie, looking at himsteadily. "Thief!"

"So you won't name your price!" said Skippy, passing behind her andholding the gag before her eyes. 

"Not if you murder me--you thief!"

Skippy again considered. 

"She doesn't scare worth a darn, " he acknowledged to himself. Instead ofapplying the gag he departed to the opposite side, sat down and began tothink. At the end of a long moment he rose and approached her with abrisk set manner. 

"So you're going to tell, are you?"

"You just bet I'm going to tell, you coward!"

"All right, tell then!" He stooped, freed her legs and arms and rose. "Tell if you've made up your mind to--but God help you if you do. That's all I have to say. "

"You can't scare me, " said Tootsie, but already intrigued by the newplan of action which she divined behind her brother's silence. 

"No, but there's some one I can scare!" said Skippy, unlocking the door. "All right! War to the knife, Miss Tootsie! Remember, though, I warnedyou!"

"Who are you threatening now?" said Tootsie, trying to conceal heranxiety; for long association had engendered a lively respect for theSkippy imagination. 

"I never threaten, " said Skippy disdainfully, "but if that red-haired, knock-kneed, overfed beau of yours ever sets foot on this place again, he comes in a hearse! And what goes for him, goes for all! Go on andtell, but you'll have the loneliest summer you've ever had, young lady!"

Five minutes later a treaty of peace was concluded on the basis ofsecret understandings secretly arrived at, and Miss Tootsie Bedellereplaced the dressmaker's figure in the arms of the triumphant diplomatwhile the phonograph gave forth the strains of the Washington Post. 

 * * * * *

Tootsie's terpsichorean assistance was sorely needed. Skippy was not anatural glider and gliding as Tootsie explained to him was essential ina ballroom, in polite society at least. Skippy's feet could skip, hopand jump with the best, but they were not, in any sense of the word, gliders. The change from the inanimate embrace of the dressmaker's formto Tootsie's pliant figure, however, worked such miracles that at theend of twenty minutes' industrious application, Tootsie expressedherself as astonished and delighted. 

Now of course Skippy could have gone for instruction to Dolly Travers, who was the object of these secret efforts. But that was not the Skippyway. He had always shunned any exhibition of inferiority. Whatever wasto be learned he learned in privacy and exhibited in public. He hadtaught himself to shoot marbles, to solve the intricate sequences ofmumblety peg, to throw an out-curve, to pick up a double hitch with onehand, to chin himself, skin the cat and hang by his toes behind the safeseclusion of the barn wall. Whatever his failures they were notaccompanied by the jeers of an audience. He had gone off in secret tothe swimming pool by Bretton's creek and smarted for hours undercrashing belly-whoppers until he had taught himself to dive forward andbackward. Then he watched with grinning superiority the fate of lessexperienced youngsters who followed his dare. 

So in the present sentimental crisis. To rank in the estimation of MissDolly Travers there was no escaping the fact that he would have tosurrender his prejudices and incline his feet to the popular way. Buthaving reached this decision he determined to stage his effects. For twomore Saturdays he continued in dignified isolation to escort MissTravers to the weekly hop and back, guarding her scarf and fan, straining his mouth into the semblance of an interested smile whileother fellows slipped their arms around the tiny figure and moveddexterously or heavily about the ballroom. 

On the third Saturday, halfway to the club house, just as he hadplanned, Miss Dolly returned to the point of discussion. 

"Jack, aren't you ever, ever going to learn to dance?"

"Oh well, perhaps some day, " he said casually. 

"But you can't go through life without dancing!"

"Oh no, of course not. "

"Really I think it's just too selfish of you. You know how I adore it. Why won't you try? I do believe you're afraid of being laughed at. "

Skippy smiled craftily to himself. 

"Well, perhaps I'll have a try. "

"That's what you've said every time, " said Miss Dolly, shrugging hershoulders. 

Skippy bided his opportunity until the third two-step had begun and theclaimants for the favorite's hand were congregating. 

"I'm sitting this out with Jack, " said Dolly, with a sigh. 

"Say, a fossil who can't dance oughtn't to have any rights around here, nohow, " said Happy Mather. "You're only a clothes horse anyway, Skippy. "

Dolly burst out laughing at this, which pained Skippy exceedingly. 

"Oh, any chump can dance if he wants to. "

"You think so?"

"Sure. Easiest thing in the world if I wanted to. "

"Easy?"

"Sure. Just keeping in time, that's all. "

"Here's a dollar you can't get three times around the room. "

Skippy pretended to hesitate. 

"I'll pay another dollar any day to see a circus, " said Joe Crocker, beginning to smirk. 

"Dolly, hold the money, " said Skippy. 

Miss Dolly looked up in some consternation for the group now numbered ahalf a dozen and the floor was vast and bare. 

"Don't you want to wait a little?" she said with a glance at Crocker, who was nudging his neighbor. 

"What's the use?" said Skippy. "Now tell me again what I do. "

"Two steps with the left forward and then two steps with the right. Holdmy arm so, " said Dolly a little breathlessly. 

"Hold on tight, Skippy, " said Happy Mather. 

"Step on your own feet. "

"Balance on your heels. "

"Don't let them rattle you, Jack. "

"They can't. Which foot do I start on?"

"The left. "

"Shall we give him a push, Dolly?" said Lazelle sympathetically, whilehis companions, linking arms, were beaming with anticipated delight. 

Skippy, having properly worked up his audience, nodded to his partnerand floated off in a perfect dancing style. 

"Jack, you wretch, you've danced for years!" said Dolly after the firstsurprise had passed. "You've just been making fun of me all this time. "

"Never been on a ballroom floor before in my life, " said Skippy, keepingwithin the letter of the truth. 

"Why you're wonderful, Jack! But then how could you--"

"It's mental, everything is mental, " said Skippy conceitedly. "I justwatched till I got it in my mind and the rest was easy. Thanks for thelong green. Hello, what's become of our little gallery of nuts?"

Whether or not Dolly was entirely convinced by this casual explanation, the immediate return to Skippy was enormous. Not only were the claimantsto her affections completely distanced, but Miss Dolly, for a time, adopted an attitude of respect and deference towards him, which hadformerly been totally lacking. 

Skippy was tremendously in love. There was no doubt about that. Youcould see it in the dishpan glow of his scrubbed forehead, in thespotless flannels and the lily white hands. There was something secureand permanent in the attachment. Dolly was not sentimental and onlydistantly affectionate, but she was absorbing. There was no question ofan eight-hour day in his case. From nine A. M. Until Mr. Traversostentatiously began to bar the library windows for the night, Mr. Skippy Bedelle was at one end of a wire with Miss Dolly Travers at theother, pushing the button. 

That practical young lady, realizing that Skippy's earning capacity wasstill woefully limited, permitted no allusions to the distant holy bondsof matrimony, but she did allow him to mortgage his future to the extentof the promenade and dances which would decorate his scholastic andcollegiate journey, as well as attendance at all athletic contests ofany nature whatsoever. On his birthday (when the sinking fund toward thefirst dress suit rose to the colossal sum of fifty dollars) theysolemnly exchanged pins, Dolly openly sporting the red and black ofLawrenceville, while Skippy concealed in the secret recesses of his tiea little gold wishbone which would lead him to the higher prizes inlife, add three inches to his stature and the additional twenty poundsnecessary to qualify for the varsity. 

His fall from grace was of course the subject of great merriment amonghis companions, particularly Happy Mather and Joe Crocker in whom memorystill rankled. A direct insult was of course dangerous, but there wereother subtler ways. At least half a dozen times a day some one was sureto ask him, "I say, Skippy, what's doing to-night?"

"Got anything on this afternoon?"

But Skippy brushed aside their crude attempts at persiflage withindifference. He had won out. The courted prize was his. For two weeksnot a cloud obtruded on the clear sky of his content. Dolly bullied andbossed him. He did her errands. He fetched and carried. He served herand no other goddess. And then tragedy arrived with the arrival of thecelebrated Hickey Hicks, who came down to spend a fortnight with theTriumphant Egghead. 

CHAPTER XXVII

HICKEY IN A DEADLY RÔLE

HICKEY, be it remembered, had just severed his connections with theLawrenceville school after a display of pedagogical despotism which hadno parallel except in the case of the celebrated Captain Dreyfus. Justbecause certain disturbing incidents had occurred in close succession, beginning with the theft of the clapper; the disappearance of Tabby'sbed, when that inexperienced young master had dashed two miles down theTrenton road in search of fictitious burglars; the famous Fed andanti-Fed riots when a misdirected effort to inculcate the love ofpolitics had almost resulted in a recourse to the financial institutionwhich insures the school against destruction by fire or otherwise--thehead master, without an iota of evidence (he acknowledged it frankly), had requested the Hon. Hickey Hicks to seek a wider field for theadmittedly fertile powers which were peculiarly his. 

When Hickey with his resplendent social manner cast the eye of favor onDolly Travers, after having remarked her unquestioned superiority withthe light fantastic toe, Skippy felt exactly the way the Vicomte deBragelonne did when royalty appeared to claim the hand of Louise de laVallière. Hickey was in the heavy middleweight class while he was stilla bantam. Hickey was one of the princely figures of school tradition. Hecame, he saw, he conquered. He was an athlete, whose arrival wasdisputed by the three leading colleges. Sambones Bedelle himself, captain of next year's Yale varsity nine, allowed himself to be seenpublicly with his arm resting affectionately over Hickey's shoulders. With such a halo it was no wonder that Dolly in her early teens shouldhave yielded to the flattery of his preference. Skippy acknowledged somuch to himself as he stood on the fringe of the spectators and watchedDolly with rapturous upturned face whirling about the room in the armsof the great man. 

"What ye doin' to-morrow afternoon, Skippy?" said Puffy Ellis, whoenjoyed the reversal of rôles. 

"I'm cleaning up the mitts. Want to come around?" said Skippy, with whatis commonly described as a steely look. 

Puffy did not pursue the subject and the chip on Skippy's shoulderremained unchallenged. 

How Hickey danced! The days had not arrived when acrobatic feats hadinvaded the decorum of the ballroom, and such simple departures from theroutine as dos-à-dos and single hand were enough to provoke envy andastonishment. 

Skippy forgot his irritation as he watched the graceful guiding of hisrival. Hickey certainly could dance! He admitted it. Never with orwithout the assistance of a dressmaker's manikin could he ever hope torival him in this accomplishment. He went dutifully to claim his turnwith the faithless one. His heart was acutely torn and he knew thepeculiar delight he was affording his numerous friends, but he forced asmile of indifference. Besides, in his fertile imagination he had theglimmerings of a stratagem. 

"I've saved the fifth two-step and the seventh waltz for you, " saidDolly, squeezing his arm ever so lightly, "though you haven't asked meyet. "

The summer was long and she was quite aware that in another ten days theresplendent Mr. Hicks would pass as Shelley had passed. Besides shesecretly admired Skippy's sporting manner in adversity. 

"Awfully good of you, " he said lightly, "but see here, Dolly, don'tbother about me. Hickey's got us all skinned hollow when it comes tothis game. Go ahead, keep on dancing with him. Go as far as you like. "

"My, but he waltzes divinely!" said Dolly, relieved. 

"He's a wonder, all right, and a cracker-jack at anything he touches!Sambones says he'll make the varsity, certain next year. "

"What happened about his leaving school?"

"That--that was an outrage, " said Skippy, who would have scorned toattack a rival meanly. "I'll tell you all about that. "

"You're sure you don't mind my dancing so much with him?" said Dolly, who had allowed Hickey to cut in six dances running. 

"I? Bless you, no!"

"It's just his wonderful dancing, " said Dolly, looking down. 

"Don't blame you. He is A No. 1 with his feet all right, " said Skippy, and he added carelessly, "wonderful how he manages it, too, with hisinfirmity. "

"His infirmity?" said Dolly, startled. 

"Did I say infirmity?" said Skippy, pretending surprise. "For heaven'ssake, don't tell any one. Gee, I shouldn't have said that. "

"Yes, but what infirmity?" said Dolly, now in a high state ofexcitement. 

Skippy compressed his lips to show that they were forever sealed, andmoved away. But he noted with satisfaction that the next time Miss DollyTravers passed whirling about the great man, instead of the rapturousupturned gaze, was one of alarmed curiosity. 

The next day at the beach Dolly opened up at once the question ofinfirmities. 

"Dolly, " said Skippy firmly, "I'm not going to say any more, so it's nouse trying to pump me. I'm ashamed to have said what I did. A fellercan't help what he's got, or what he hasn't got, can he? And it's onlya foolish prejudice after all. "

"But Jack--"

"There was another fellow at school, " said Skippy, without attention, "who had a glass eye, but he was a positive nuisance. He used to take itout and leave it around. No one could stand roomin' with him. Itcertainly gave you the creeps to be lookin' on the table for a collarbutton or a pen and find--"

But here Dolly gave a shriek and fled with her hands over her ears. 

Now Skippy had made no direct insinuation (he always had the greatestrespect for the letter of the truth), but it is a fact that whenforty-eight hours later the Mathers gave a dance, Hickey became suddenlyaware of a complete change of attitude among the feminine portion of hisadmirers. 

"What the deuce is wrong with me, anyhow?" he said after the seconddance. He went outside and scrupulously examined himself in the mirror. Then he went back and tried another partner. Again the strange feelingstole over him. Every time he brought the battery of his blue eyes tobear upon his partner her eyes turned uneasily away and the moment hisown glance was averted, back hers came, in an uncanny fixedinterrogation. The night was a triumph for Skippy, who danced eighttimes with Miss Dolly Travers and had the further satisfaction ofobserving her in a state of nerves after each of the two which shebegrudged to Mr. Hicks. 

But alas for Skippy and his short moment of triumph! Within twenty-fourhours the mystified Hickey had discovered the truth and Hickey was onethat was never lightly challenged. 

CHAPTER XXVIII

SITTING IT OUT

SKIPPY, fatuously unconscious of any overtaking fate, escorted Dolly tothe next Saturday night hop. On Monday Mr. Hickey Hicks would be on hisway to new pastures and life would return to simpler terms. Dolly, however, was in no amiable frame of mind. 

"You said he had a glass eye. You know you did, " she said for the tenthtime. 

"Now that's just like a woman, " thought Skippy, justly offended, and outloud he said, with some asperity, "_You_ said so. I never did. "

"I?"

"Sure, you did! Why you said it was the left one. "

"Well, you let me think so anyway. "

"How was I to know?" said Skippy, illogically. "Perhaps he has a glasseye. Have you asked him?"

They reached the club house and as the orchestra was alreadyindustriously at work, Skippy said playfully, "All's fair in love and war anyhow! S'pose we dance. "

"You don't deserve it, " said Dolly, hesitating. She glanced around andas no one else was an immediate prospect, she accorded him her arm. Skippy began to perceive that the burden of conversation would lie withhim. 

The next dance was a waltz and they waited, the one expectantly, theother in resignation for the usual rush of the stags which invariablyaccompanied Miss Dolly's conquering arrival. As she was endowed with alively sense of humor, her irritation had quite departed and Skippy wasas blissfully happy in his restoration to favor as the four-footed puppywhen reconciliation with the master has followed chastisement. To keepfidelity with human nature, it must likewise be recorded that thepractical sense was likewise strong in the young lady, who was fullyaware of the value of a bird in the hand to one about to fly the bush. Hickey appeared and came directly towards them. Skippy fell back. 

"Hello, Skippy, old top, " said Hickey, with accented cordiality. Heshook hands with Miss Dolly, who greeted him with the most encouragingof smiles. He complimented her on the bewitching gown which made herprettier than ever, wondered where she had been all this time, shookhands effusively--and passed on. Miss Dolly bit her lip and took hastysurvey of the room. The old reliables were all actively engaged, spinning about the room with other partners. 

"Oh, I adore this tune, " she said suddenly. "Come on, let's waltz. "

Then, just to show her independence, she suggested that the next dance, a polka, was a dreadful bore and Skippy, still unsuspicious, bore heraway in great delight to the shadowy intimacies of the veranda. MissDolly was a little quicker in her perceptions. She saw what was up, andbeing of high spirit, decided to answer in kind. She returned to thefloor and danced a third time with Skippy, who was too fatuously pleasedwith his good fortune to notice the suppressed hilarity in the room. 

"Let's sit here, " said Dolly, selecting the most public spot. When HappyMather and Crocker and Lazelle and the superior Mr. Hicks did arrive, she would have her revenge. She would refuse flatly. She would dancewith Skippy openly and defiantly the whole evening. The only drawbackwas that no one came. 

They sat out two dances and then a feeling of panic descended upon them. They were horribly, glaringly conspicuous. Every eye was on them. Everyone was whispering at their expense. Dolly had never known the sensationof being a wallflower, and for the first time her natural wit desertedher. At first she had deployed all the instinctive arts of herchallenged coquetry. She had openly flaunted her affection for Skippy, smiling into his fascinated eyes, laughing uproariously at theinanities he had to offer. Then her spirits suddenly evaporated and shelistened with a cold creepy feeling in her back, while Skippy, indesperation for a topic of conversation, began to explain theintricacies of Mosquito-Proof Socks, to perfecting which his lifehenceforth would be devoted. 

"Let's dance. "

Skippy, halfway in his exposition of the commercial value of aninvention which would appeal to twice ninety million legs at six pair ofsocks a year, flushed and rose heavily. The light had dawned upon him atlast. They were being put in coventry and the diabolical mind that wasthus taking its fiendish revenge could be none other than the man he hadwronged--Hickey Hicks. 

From now on it was torture, pure, unadulterated, exquisite torture, suchas only the self-conscious stripling of the first sixteen awkward yearscan experience. To save his life he could not think of a thing to say, while in his arms Dolly grew heavier and heavier. His arm ached, hisfeet began to stumble, he bumped into other couples. 

After he had sat out the eighth dance in fitful silence, he began toexperience the strangest antipathy for Miss Dolly Travers, who but anhour before had been the rapturous ending of all his day dreams. Let nocynic here exclaim, with facile wit, that romance ends thus in thecompulsory quality of marriage. We make no such allusions. We only statethat Skippy, in his inexperience, began morally to disintegrate. Themore he was forced to sit, chained by convention, the object of publichilarity, the more he wondered at his former infatuation. Dolly disputedby every male was a figment of the imagination--how different was thereality! Mimi Lafontaine was a hundred times more desirable and at leasthad _something_ to say! The situation was hideous, but how escape? Ifonly he could get to Hickey and buy him off! But he couldn't get to histormentor, that was the trouble! Then suddenly an idea came to him. Inhis pocket was the roll of bills that comprised the sinking fund for hisdress suit. Carefully and unnoticed by Dolly, he extracted a two dollarbill. When next he danced, he danced with the bill openly flauntedbehind the all-unconscious Dolly, openly offering it to whoever wouldcome to his rescue. Still the banded traitors smirked and remained loyalto their leader--they, too, had scores to settle!

"Get me a glass of lemonade, won't you, Jack, like a dear?" said Dolly, who had thought of a possible opening. 

Skippy went and took a full five minutes until he had made quite surethe next dance was under way. To his horror Dolly was where he had lefther--sitting alone. 

When the tenth dance had begun, he hesitated no longer. He replaced thetwo dollar bill by one of the next denomination, and with the Vcarefully exposed, he managed to bump into Hickey and draw his attentionto the price of his liberty. Hickey appeared interested but only halfconvinced. Skippy held out another dance and then, groaning inwardly, increased the bait to ten. 

Whereupon Hickey condescended. The signal was given and Skippy, standingaloof and humble in the shadows of the veranda, perceived through thewindow Miss Dolly Travers, as the stags swarmed down, resume her sway asthe queen of the ball. 

On Monday Hickey departed in a burst of glory. With him something elsedeparted--a great romance. Illusions are fragile things and when theyare shattered the pieces are too small to be reassembled. _Sic transit_Dolly Travers!

CHAPTER XXIX

DEAD GAME SPORTS

AT the end of August, Mr. Skippy Bedelle met Mr. Snorky Green on theFall River Boat, each being in complete agreement as to the economicsuperiority of the water route to the great metropolis, when the end inview was the acquisition of that radiant apotheosis of perfect manhood, the first dress suit. 

"Gee Whilikins, Skippy, you're enormous, " said Snorky, measuring himwith his eye. "How did you do it? I've only gained half an inch. "

"I'm twelve pounds heavier, " said Skippy proudly. "Feel that. "

"Hard as nails!" said Snorky, pinching the proffered biceps. "You dolook different, too. "

Skippy, thinking on Dolly Travers, blushed. 

"Got to shave every other day now, " he said hastily, to cover hisconfusion. 

"Have a coffin nail?" said Snorky, feeling that a bold stroke wasnecessary to restore the balance. 

"Dyin' for one, " said Skippy, who disliked the practice cordially. Heselected a cigarette, tapped it on his hand and rolled the rim on thetip of his tongue. "Not bad. "

"Nice bouquet, eh?" said Snorky, who had listened in. 

"What? You betcha! What's the monogram?"

"Uncle Ben. I swiped them, " said Snorky, who was returning from a familyvisit. "Suppose we give the old tub the once over and see if there'sanything worth looking at on board. "

Skippy allowed the cigarette to hang pendant from his lower lip, tiltedhis Panama with the purple and white band, sank his hands in his pocketsand imitated carefully the dead game sporting slouch of his companion asthey proceeded on their critical inspection of the feminine offering onthe decks. 

"Rum bunch, " said Snorky, who was putting it on for Skippy. "Little girlover there got nice eyes. "

"Piano legs. "

"What?"

"Piano legs. Big as a porpoise in five years, " said Skippy, putting iton for Snorky. 

"I daresay, " said Snorky, who continued his efforts to impress his chumby staring down a large buxom lady who happened to glance their way. "Rather good-looking, the old fighting brunette over there. "

"Seemed interested in you. "

"Yes, rather, " said Snorky, turning for a fatuous backward glance. 

"What's this?" said Skippy, suddenly interested. 

Ahead by the rail two young girls were watching curiously the vanishingoutlines of the harbor. 

"That's class, " said Snorky instantly. 

"You betcha!" said Skippy, noting the large leghorn hats dripping withrosebuds, the trim ruffled organdie dresses and the twin parasols, pinkand mauve. The young ladies looked up curiously at their swaggeringapproach and then away. Skippy in his assiduous pursuit of fiction ofthe romantic tinge had often read of "velvety" eyes and ponderedincredulously. For the first time in his life, suddenly, in the hazardsof a crowded steamer, a young girl of irreproachable manners had lookedat him and the eyes were undeniably "velvety. " It troubled him. Not thathe was susceptible to such a point, but it stirred memories of ancientreadings into the night on soft window seats, or under green trees inthe troubling warmth of spring days. 

"The blonde for mine, " said Snorky pompously. 

"I didn't see her, " said Skippy dreamily. 

They linked arms and passed in the rakish, indolent manner of thoroughmen of the world who know that but to be seen is to conquer. To theirdiscomfiture the young ladies failed to notice the extreme distinctionof their manly appearance and shortly afterward left the deck. 

"We failed to impress, " said Skippy disconsolately. 

"A lot you know about women. "

"They never saw us. "

"Huh! Betcha they were sneaking looks at us every time we passed. Justyou wait. They'll be out in a jiffy. "

"What'll we do?"

"Pretend we're not interested. "

They stalked the deck ten times with a nonchalant, bored air, butslightly roving eyes. 

"They're waiting inside, " said Snorky obstinately. 

"Well, you go and scout. I'll wait here, " said Skippy, whose interestwas only a determination not to be outshone by his chum of chums. 

In ten minutes Snorky was back, all excitement. 

"Just as I told you. They're in the front saloon playing cards. Comeon. "

"What are you going to do?" said Skippy, hesitating. 

Snorky thought a moment. 

"We've got to put over something big. "

"Well, what?"

Snorky thought again. 

"We must make 'em think we're high rollers;--yachts, race horses, andall that. "

"Well, how?"

Snorky thought a third time. 

"How much money have you got?" said Skippy suddenly. 

"In cash?"

"Sure. On you. "

"About forty-three dollars, " said Snorky, who from time to time had beenfeeling with his fingers to assure himself that no pickpocket hadoutwitted him. 

"Fork it out. I've got an idea. "

"Is it all right?" said Snorky, who had reason to dread the Skippyimagination. 

"Fine and dandy. Don't worry. Trust me. Show 'em up. "

Snorky produced a twenty, two tens and three common-a-garden ones. 

"You keep a twenty and you stick it on top. Then you change the two tensinto ones and that makes some whopping wad, doesn't it?"

"Say, I don't get--"

"Leave it to me, " said Skippy, who led the way to the cigar counter. 

Ten minutes later Mr. Skippy Bedelle and Mr. Snorky Green, with largebanded cigars, entered the ladies' saloon and carelessly installedthemselves at a table next but one to that occupied by the young girls. 

"Well, old sport, " said Snorky, twirling the mercifully unsmoked cigarin his fingers. "Suppose we go over our accounts?"

"Always be businesslike, " said Skippy, poising a pencil over a sheet ofpaper with plutocratic nonchalance. 

"Owe you thirty-five plunks for last night's poker game, " said Snorky, raising his voice sufficiently. 

"That's right, and I owe--"

"Hold on, me first. "

Snorky dug into his trousers and came up with a roll of greenbacks thatmade the colored porter who happened to be passing stumble in his step. 

"Twenty and ten and five, makes thirty-five, " he said, peeling them offwith a nimble exhibition of legerdemain which kept the lower bills wellconcealed. 

"Keerect, " said Skippy, sweeping them towards him with a languidlyindifferent air. 

"Then I borrowed a ten spot to tip the head waiter. Remember?"

"I do remember. "

"Five and five. Correct?"

"Keerect. "

"How do we stand on the ponies?"

"Only fair, " said Skippy. "We lost two and won one. I couldn't get ourmoney up on the others. "

"Let's see. It was twenty-five bones each, wasn't it?" said Snorky, jogging his elbow, to notify him that the impression they were makingwas simply stupendous. 

"Right again. "

"That sets me back fifty plunks. That's easy. Here you are, one, two, three, four, five tens. Correct?"

"Keerect, " said Skippy, brushing in the greenbacks, with the same casualmotion of his hand. 

"That squares me. "

"It does. "

"Now what's coming back?"

Skippy in turn, after certain struggles with his trousers pocket, brought forth a bundle which could have done credit to a cattle king andsaid, as he slipped the elastic, "Twenty-five at five to one is just about one hundred and twenty-five. "

"That's all right, but how about the tip to Spike Murphy?"

"Spike Murphy?" said Skippy, looking at him hard. 

"The fellow who put us wise. "

"Oh, that's all right, " said Skippy, recovering a proper sportingmanner. "Forget that. I cleaned up enough to handle a little thing likethat. "

"Lucky dog!"

"One hundred and twenty-five, " said Skippy, going through the propermotions. "Twenty once, twice, three times, four and five. One hundred, and ten and twenty and twenty--"

But at this moment, whether by chance, by intent or by the emotioncaused by the display of such wealth, there was a crash from the nearbytable and two magazines fell to the floor. Snorky, ever alert, sprang tohis feet, retrieved the magazines and offered them to the blondest ofthe two with punctilious courtesy. 

"Allow me. I believe these belong to you?"

"Oh thank you, " said the young lady, looking quite distressed. 

"Awfully warm night, isn't it?" said Snorky, whose heart was pumping athis own unexampled audacity. 

"Sir, I do not think I have been introduced to you, " said the younglady, stiffening and looking what to Snorky, at least, were daggers. 

He uttered several unintelligible sounds, flushed a fiery red and backedaway. 

"Right where the chicken met the axe, " said Skippy, who began to whistlea melancholy tune as he gathered up the scattered greenbacks. "Herecomes mother. "

"Let's beat it, " said Snorky, who felt a sudden need for a pureratmosphere. 

"You know women better than I do, " said Skippy, who though a chum washuman. 

"Damn them all, " said Snorky, peering over the railing into the nightand exposing his forehead to the cooling breeze. "But why the devil didshe lead me on?"

CHAPTER XXX

EXPERIMENTS IN A DRESS SUIT

WHEN they descended at the Southampton station the family coach was inwaiting. They surrendered their valises to the footman while each clungtightly to a large square paper box, carefully protected and corded. 

"Gee, it'll just about knock the wind out of old Caroline, " said Snorkyin a whisper. 

"Don't they suspect?" said Skippy nervously. 

"Not for a minute. Say, I'd never have the nerve to sport it alone. "

"Have you got the box with the shirt studs in?" said Skippy fidgeting. 

"Why I handed it--"

"That's so. They're here, " said Skippy, after a dip into four pockets. 

At the thought that at last after sixteen long and eventful years thesupreme moment had come when he would step out of the shell ofadolescence and greet the waiting world in his first forty-dollar, custom-made dress suit, in high collar, white stiff bosom, two tailspendant, Skippy shivered slightly and drew a deep, delightfullyterrified breath. 

"We'll put it over all right, " he said loudly, and he began to whistleas is the instinct of boyhood, whether facing the possibility of aparental caning; screwing up courage to ring her doorbell; or turning agloomy corner in the moonlight where something horrid and shapeless maybe lurking. 

Twenty minutes later, as he was solicitously examining the crease in thesoft lovely black trousers, after hanging the swallow-tailed coat over apadded hanger, Snorky came in with a face of thunder. 

"Well, what _do_ you think?" he said nervously. 

"They forgot to put in the pants, " said Skippy, leaping to the worst. 

"Shucks, no. There's a party on to-night. "

"A party?"

"There'll be millions of people to dinner and a dance after. "

"What of it?" said Skippy loudly, though the chill began to ascend fromhis feet. 

"My Lord--"

"Say, you're not losing your nerve, you chicken-hearted rabbit, areyou?" said Skippy, who was now absolutely terrified. 

"You mean you're game?"

"Snorky! I wouldn't have believed it of you!"

"Say, it isn't your family or your sister, " said Snorky angrily. "Myaunt's cat's pants, how they'll howl!"

Skippy prepared for the great event by what would have sufficed for aEuropean semi-annual immersion and, emerging spotless and stainlessfrom the bath, with his derby closely pressed over the niceties of hisparted hair, perceived that he had still forty-two minutes left of thehour and a half he had allotted to this supreme toilette. 

"My Lord, I hope I've got everything, " he said, standing in diaphanouscontemplation. The one thing that worried him a little was the studs. They had looked over twenty different varieties, flat ones and solidgold ones, spirals, encrusted studs, and studs that anchored with aqueer twist. Finally they had allowed themselves to be persuaded by aflashy clerk and settled on a patent imitation pearl stud that pushed inand stuck, simplest thing in the world, like the click of a spring lock;that would leave the beautiful creamy white expanse of shirt absolutelyunruffled by any preliminary struggle. 

"Shall I try 'em on first?" he thought, glancing down at the immaculatebosom. But at this moment a voice behind him cried pompously. 

"Old top. Cast your eye on this. "

Skippy gazed and his courage rose. His private opinion was that Snorkylooked like a French butcher going to a morning wedding in hiredregalia. 

"The suit's a lalapazooza!" he said carefully. 

"It'll kill old Carrots, " said Snorky, who thus referred to his sister. "She's over the age limit now but when I pull this she'll look agrandmother! Say, look me over. Make sure there are no tags or pricemarks. All right?"

"Jim dandy. "

He went two steps to the door and turned. 

"Say, remember one thing. Keep your fists out of your trousers pockets, Bo. That's important. "

"Why so?"

"Ignoramus, " said Skippy, reproachfully. "That'll give the whole gameaway. You never stick your hands in your trousers pockets unless you'rea greenhorn. "

"How do the shirt studs work?" said Skippy, nervously. 

"Simplest things in the world. "

"Say, Snorky?"

"Well?"

"These coat tails have got pockets in them. "

"Sure they have, you chump! They're to hide your mawlers in. "

"Don't be so bright, " said Skippy indignantly. "But what _do_ we putinto them, then?"

"Handkerchief. "

"Rats. I know better than that. You stick a handkerchief up in front andpull out just the tip of it. "

"Perhaps it's for a toothbrush if you're staying over night. "

"No, but honest, what do you put in them?" said Skippy, who did not wishto miss a trick. 

They thought this over a long moment, and then gave it up as greaterintelligences, pondering on the mysteries of existence, have given itup. 

"Well, ta-ta. See you below. "

"Where you goin'?"

"I'm going to break in the family one by one, " said Snorky, wagging hishead. "Lettin' 'em get over the shock. I'm taking no chances. "

Left to himself, Skippy hastened to his own preparations. At the risk ofbeing acclaimed a traitor to the sex, we must record here the truth, that with five mirrors surrounding him and one in the bathroom, it tookSkippy exactly forty-five minutes to perfect his toilette from everyangle of observation. First he burrowed into his shirt which derangedthe part in his hair and necessitated another period of readjustment. Then he put on his trousers and adjusted the suspenders until eachtrouser leg hung with the crease untroubled and just clear of the boot. But having done this he discovered, as others have discovered, thatpatent shirt-studs sported in an unaccustomed place, require the fullestplay of the arms. The placing of the studs was of itself the mostdelicate of operations and twice he went down on his knees and halfwayunder the bed to retrieve the upper one which popped out just as hethought he had it securely imprisoned. Once more he adjusted thesuspenders, and began work on the stiff collar which caught his throatand forced up his chin. After five minutes' struggle he succeeded infastening this with the aid of a buttonhook, and suddenly the thing hehad feared was upon him. He had forgotten, completely forgotten, thewhite tie!

What was he to do? Snorky was beyond the reach of assistance. Twice hehad heard shouts of uproarious delight down the hall marking his chum'sprogress in breaking in the family. The house was huge and Snorky bythis time was down on the second floor or even practicing in the parlor. He went through the motions of searching through his valise but he knewall the while that it was futile. He had forgotten the final touch, the_sine qua non_ of fashion!

He found a wrapper in the hall closet and opening the door cautiouslypeered into the hall. An uncle and an older brother of Snorky's were onthe same floor, but he had not been introduced and his courage failedhim. He returned to his room and contemplated the white bed spread, thepillow slips and the muslin curtains in a wild hope that something mightlend itself to an improvisation. Then he shook his head mournfully. There was only one way out. To appear properly dressed in this, astrange house, before strangers, he would have to commit a crime! Theonly way to get a white tie was to steal one. At this moment while hiswhole moral future turned on an impulse, a door down the hall openedand Skippy, peering forth, beheld an elderly gentleman, immaculatelydressed, descend the stairs. For a short moment he hesitated but atavismand necessity were against him. He stole out into the hall and made hisway on tiptoe. All at once he heard a step ascending the stairs. Abathroom door was open. He sprang into it with a thumping heart andwaited breathlessly, leaning limply against the wall. All at once hiseye fell on the clothes basket. From the top a crumpled white tie washanging. He was saved!

He seized the tie and head erect, honor intact, walked fearlessly backto his room. But there, a new dilemma! The tie was indeed of whitestlawn but, alas! across one end was a smudge which defied the mostpersistent rubbing. Skippy, as has been observed, was at the period whenthe imagination is not confined by tradition. In desperation he resortedto the washbasin and with the aid of a brush, triumphantly banished thedamned spot. Then having wrung the limp mass, he spread the tiecarefully against the window pane and covering it with a handkerchief, laboriously ironed it out with a shoe. 

Just as the clock struck half past seven, Mr. John C. Bedelle descendedthe last stairs and greeted a critical world. Beads of perspirationstood on his forehead, his spine seemed made of rubber, his knees shookand his restless, chilly hands loomed before him, homeless and lost; buthe was safe at last in all the intricacies of a dress suit--a man offashion among men of the world!

Snorky was standing miserably by the fireplace, his large peppermintears flanking a heated face, as he defiantly faced the family hilarity. Then Skippy's superb aplomb failed him. Just beyond the smirking family, among the early guests, was Miss Jennie Tupper, the girl with thevelvety eyes, and at her side, as icily correct as when the night beforeshe had crushed Snorky's floundering attempt at lady-killing, her sisterMargarita. 

CHAPTER XXXI

SHIRT STUDS AS CUPID'S MESSENGER

AFTER the room had returned to place Skippy rallied, took theintroductions with preternatural stiffness, and gravitated to Snorky. The white shirt front in the most unaccountable manner had swollen toalarming dimensions, the coat tails must be dragging on the floor. Hiscollar cut under his imprisoned neck and his large white hands, longingfor sheltering pockets, seemed to float before him like inflatedballoons. If his were complete manhood, --oh for a soft shirt and aturned down collar!

"Kill it, " said Snorky under his breath. 

"What's wrong?"

"Kill that flag of liberty, you chump!" said Snorky, glowering at theflaming edge of the silk bandana handkerchief which Skippy was sportingat his breast pocket. 

"What's wrong with that? Every one does it. "

"Wrong! Look around you. "

Skippy did so and surreptitiously extinguished the bandana. 

"Holy Mike, we're in for it, " said Snorky. "Do you know who they are?"

"The girls?"

"Daughters of the Presbyterian minister, strict as nails--Sunday schooland mission stuff. Oh Lord!"

"Pretend you knew it all along. "

"And that other stuff? The dead game sporting life?"

"Stick to your guns!" said Skippy desperately. 

The next moment he was at table, between Miss Caroline Bedelle and theblonde Margarita, while across the table the soft velvety eyes of Jennielooked at him sadly and reproachfully. 

"Good gracious, Jack, " said Snorky's sister, staring at him. "I never, never would have known you. You've gained twenty pounds. "

"It's the shirt, " thought Skippy, glancing down at the bulging frontthat gave him the torso of a wrestler. Then he began to wonder which wasthe owner of the still slightly moist tie. But soon all discomforts, even the intricate maze of forks and knives, were forgotten before thealarming problem of the shirt front. When he sat upright, stiff as aramrod, it was relatively quiescent, but the moment he relaxed or bentforward to eat it bulged forth as though working on a spring, until alurking horror that it would escape altogether began to possess him. Hecrept forward on his chair and balanced on the edge, trying to mitigatethe conspicuous rigidity of his pose by a nonchalant coquetting with thesalt cellar. 

"I suppose I must talk to you, for appearances' sake, " said the blondeMiss Tupper. 

"Why so?" said Skippy haughtily, for having just reacted from blondes, blondes did not appeal to him. 

"You ask?"

"Certainly I ask, and I think an apology is due my friend and myself, "said Skippy from his great fund of literary conversations. 

"Well, I like that!"

"You cut us dead twice on the deck and then pretended not to know Arthurwhen he started to speak to you, " said Skippy icily. 

Miss Margarita Tupper looked at him with the intuitive suspicion of therighteous. 

"I don't believe a word of it, " she said. 

"_That_ is adding insult to injury, " said Skippy, still in the bestfictional manner. "Pardon me if I do not pursue this conversation anylonger. "

"I guess that'll hold the old girl, " he said, chuckling inwardly. Butalas for such vanities, or was it the unseen moral guardians which maybe expected to watch over the daughters of the upright! The sudden shiftof his indignant body was attended with fatal results. 

There was a distinct "pop. " The upper patent shirt-stud shot out, tinkled against a vase and rolled directly towards the girl with thevelvety eyes. 

"What's that?" said Caroline, startled. 

"Some one threw a pebble against the window pane, " said a voice. 

"Something cracked. "

They are wrong, eternally wrong, who look upon youth as a period ofcareless joy on the threshold of manhood's struggles and sorrows! Neverin after-life would Skippy Bedelle experience such a blank, helplesshorror as in that awful moment, when he sat overcome with shame andconfusion, awaiting detection. What in heaven's name was he to say whenthe eyes of the whole company would inevitably be directed to thetelltale stud, blazing now at the plate of Miss Tupper? What did any onesay, anyhow, when a shirt stud popped across the table? Nothing in hisexperience or the experience of all the novelists in the world couldsupply a clue. Wave after wave of red and redder confusion rippled upfrom his collar and surged to the roots of his hair. Should he brazen itout? Should he make a light answer, or was it etiquette to apologizehumbly to his hostess? How could he tell? If he were discovered therewas only one thing to do, to run for it, to retreat to his room, lockhis door, escape by the window and leave by the night train, disgracedand branded forever!

"Very funny, " said Mrs. Bedelle. "Caroline, look at the Bohemian glassvase. I'm sure I heard it crack. "

All glances immediately concentrated on the fatal area. Detection wasnow but a question of instants. Then Skippy in the throes of despair sawthe plump little hand of Miss Jennie Tupper reach out and casually closeover the offending pearl stud. He was saved, saved by the miracle ofcompassion and forgiveness that lifts women to those sublime heightswhere mere men cannot attain!

Tears threatened his eyes, his throat swelled up and slowly subsided. Helooked over into the velvety eyes and sent a message of abjectgratitude. He was her slave from now on, irrevocably bound, faithfuluntil death!

 * * * * *

"You didn't detherve it, " said Miss Jennie an hour later when in theseclusion of the veranda she had restored to him the unspeakable stud. 

"You're an angel, " said Skippy hoarsely. "I'll never, never forget that. That was white of you, awfully white!"

"You didn't detherve it, " repeated Miss Tupper with as much severity ascan accompany the slightest of lisps and the eyes of a gazelle. 

"Don't be hard on a fellow, " said Skippy miserably. 

"It was outwageous. You know, you didn't know us. "

How was he to lie to his saviour and benefactor and yet how betray achum?

"It did look bad, " he said, momentarily at loss, "but honest, now, Snorky's intentions were nothing but honorable. Honest they were. "

"I with I could believe it, " said Miss Jennie sadly. 

"I say, you must think I'm an awful rum sort, " said Skippy, on whom thevelvety eyes against the distant moon ripple on the water and the nearbynight fragrance of the honeysuckle was beginning to work its charm. "Well, I suppose I am--"

"Oh no. "

"A rotten good-for-nothing lot, " said Skippy gloomily, falling easilyinto the new part and surprised to find what peculiar pleasure could beextracted from the rôle of the wayward. 

"No, no, you're not that bad, " said Miss Jennie earnestly, "but I dothink--well you've not been under the withest of influenthes, have you?"

"I haven't had a chance, " said Skippy desperately. "Everything has beenagainst me. Guess no one cares what becomes of me. "

"I know, " said the gentle voice. "It ith hard. "

"Look here, Miss Tupper, " said Skippy, beginning to be convinced of hisown predestination for the gallows, as he instinctively felt thesentimental value of the rôle. "Men like myself don't get a chance toknow women like you. I wish to heaven--" He stopped, a lump in histhroat, and gazed into the sentimental night. Great heavens, what adepraved character he really was! For the first time he saw himself inthe enormity of his sinning. It was not only the cigarettes and the oneblack cigar, purloined from his father, but the orgies at penny-ante, the occasional game of craps back of Mather's barn. Then he rememberedother damning episodes in his black record--the time he had gone into amathematics exam and read the formulas from Buster Bean's collar; thenight he had helped Sport McGinnis smuggle a bottle of beer in for awelsh rabbit and swallowed a full third of the rank stuff. Then therewas an appalling record of evasions, turnings and twistings of the exactand literal truth--

"You can't be altogether bad if you're so honeth, " said Miss Jennie, inwhom the instinct was lively to bring the sinner home. 

"I am. I am, " said Skippy lugubriously. 

"Can't I help--juth a little?"

"Would you, would you really?" he said eagerly. 

"Let me--pleath. "

The plump little fingers came forth and met the rough hand of thesinner. Skippy squeezed them convulsively, not daring to trust hisvoice, nodded twice and smiled bravely back in the moonlight to showthat the leaven of higher things was already beginning to work. 

"How'd you get on with Margarita?" he asked Snorky when they retired forthe night. 

"Margarita's a pippin!" said Snorky. 

"I squared you all right. "

"You bet you did! She came right up and fed out of my hand. But, say, they swallowed it all right. "

"What?"

"The dead game sporting life stuff. "

"Yes, I know. Got a cig?"

"What? Oh yes. Get you one in a jiffy. But say. Go easy. The governorand all that sort of thing, you know. "

"Nerves sort of jumpy to-night, " said Skippy languidly. "Need a fewwhiffs to quiet 'em down. "

It was something new in his life, a good influence. All his betternature rose up in response. So summoning up his courage, he lit acigarette and tried to inhale--a desperate character, worthy to besaved, certainly ought to inhale! It was nauseating. It stung his lungsand set his head to reeling. He left the window and crawled over to thebed where he lay weak but unconquered. 

"By jinks, I will inhale, I'll inhale to-morrow!" he said, seeing alwaysthe uplifting smile and the pure velvety eyes of Miss Jennie as the roomwaltzed around him. "It's going to be awfully hard living up to her, butI'll do it if it kills me!"

CHAPTER XXXII

LIVING UP TO AN ANGEL

SKIPPY woke with a blood curdling shriek and landed sprawling in themiddle of the floor, his legs caught in the sheets, his head smotheredin the comforter, a convulsive grip on the bolster, which he wasdesperately trying to stifle when Snorky flung himself out of bed andrushed to the rescue. 

"Hold him back. Help Snorky! Hold him!"

"Hold what, who?" said Snorky, pursuing the smothered figure of Skippy, who was still wrestling with the bolster. "Wake up. It's me! It'sSnorky. "

Skippy's grip relaxed and presently his terror-stricken eyes emergedfrom the comforter. 

"Holy Maria! In another minute he'd have had me in the electric chair, "he said, wiping the clammy perspiration from his forehead. 

"Nightmare eh?"

"Ugh! Gee! Moses!"

"Too much cigarette. "

"Golly, what a life I've been leading!" said Skippy, referring to thedream. "Bar rooms and gambling dens, dark lanterns, hold-ups, racetracksand--"

"Wake up, wake up!"

"It's all in the dream, " said Skippy sulkily. Then he remembered thatall through the hideous phantasmagoria, in the smoky mists of lowgambling dens, in the drizzle of midnight conclaves, across thesepulchral silences of leaden prisons, there had flitted the beatificvision of an angel with velvety eyes and the softest of lisps. 

"Well, go on, " said Snorky. 

"Can't remember any more, " said Skippy. Her name must be shielded atevery cost. 

He had determined to be a lost character, a wayward son, a gentlemansport, with nerves of steel. The sentimental values appealed to hisimagination. It gave a deep romantic tinge to the too matter-of-factfreckled nose and hungry mouth. Besides the end was noble and the endwas Miss Jennie Tupper. 

The new rôle of course had certain exigencies. To be an interestingreprobate and engage Miss Jenny Tupper's sentimental proclivities forredemption, it was necessary to present some concrete evidence of asinful life. He was shockingly deficient in all the habits that lead tothe gallows. Desperate characters he remembered (recalling the Doctor'sterrific sermons on the Demon Cigarettes which are the nails in thecoffins of mothers) usually had their fingers stained with telltaletraces of the nicotine which was gnawing at their lungs. 

He ensconced himself by the fireplace (out of deference to Snorky'sestimate of the governor) and taking care not to inhale, smoked acigarette to the end. But the result was unsatisfactory. He burned hisfingers over the distasteful performance but acquired nothing in the wayof a stain. He smoked a second and a third and then seized by aninspiration carefully rubbed in the moist ends. 

 * * * * *

When they walked back from the beach that morning Miss Jennie Tupperlost no time in opening up the fascinating subject of the sinful one'sreclamation. Skippy had just brought forth a cigarette, tapped itprofessionally on his wrist and said:

"Don't mind, do you?"

"I do mind, " said Miss Tupper severely. "Juth look at your hand. It iththaking. "

Skippy extended a palsied hand with the second and third fingersyellowed like a Chinaman's. 

"It's worse this morning, " he said carelessly with the sigh of one whocontemplates stoically the approaching end. 

"It's tewible, tewible to let a habit make a slave of you like that! Atyour age too! How did it ever get such a dweadful hold on you?"

"I began as a boy, " said Skippy slowly, for he had still to work out thestory. "You know how it is. Fast company, money in your pockets, no onecaring. That's it, that's how it was. "

He raised the cigarette to his lips. 

"Don't smoke it, pleath. "

"Just one, just half a one, " said Skippy with a haunted look. "My Lord, it's been an hour--"

"Pleath for my thake, Jack. "

He hesitated, swallowed hard, made one or two false gestures, and flungaway the cigarette. 

"If you ask it like that, " he said huskily. 

"I'm going to athk more, " said Miss Tupper with shining eyes. "I'm goingto athk you to pwomith never to touch another thigawette or anothercard. "

"I can't, " said Skippy. "It's gone too far, it's beyond me. "

"But it'll kill you, Jack, " said Miss Tupper, alarm in the beautifuleyes. 

"I couldn't promise. I couldn't keep it, " said Skippy, who had nointention of relinquishing his dramatic advantage, "but I'll make afight for it. If you want me to--Jennie. If you really care?"

The moon ripple and the fragrance of the honeysuckle were no longerabout them. Miss Tupper in the calmer light of the day considered herwords with due regard to precept and standard. 

"I'll be vewy glad, indeed, to help you if I can, " she said properly. "We should alwayth help ath much ath we can, shouldn't we?"

"How coldly you say it!" said Skippy indignantly. 

"But Jack, " said Miss Tupper, alarmed at the tragic look on his face. "Juth think how little I know you. "

"You're quite right, " said Skippy with magnificent generosity. "I don'tdeserve more and I had no right to say that. Well it was white of youeven to care this much. " He took off his hat and extended his hand. 

"What are you doing?"

"The only square thing by you, " said Skippy with a perfect Bret Hartemanner. "It's been bully to know you and I'll never forget about thatstud. Good-bye. "

"Do you want to make me vewy vewy unhappy?" said Miss Jennie with areproachful look in the velvety eyes. Skippy returned the hat at once tohis head. 

"I'll do anything, anything for you, " he said huskily. 

Now there are two stages in the process of returning the wandering sheepto the fold and not the least interesting is the period ofinvestigation. Miss Tupper had worked in missions with enthusiasm butthere was something in the present case which staggered her imagination. How could a boy of sixteen, brought up with all the advantages of a homeand good influences, have sunk so deeply into the mire of evil? Howcould one be so depraved and yet look at you with such an open, winningsmile? Was he inherently bad or just weak, just reaching out blindly forsome good influence to set him right?

"If I can help you, " she said, leading the way to a little summer houseon the parsonage and shuddering as she glanced down at the nicotinestained fingers, "and I do want to help you--I'm several years olderthan you are--you muth tell me evewything. "

"I will, I want to, " said Skippy, summoning up all the powers of hisimagination. 

"You know, " said Miss Tupper, a little embarrassed, "I heard, I couldn'thelp hearing all you thaid that night on the boat. "

"You did. . . . Good heavens!"

"Perhaps you don't want to tell me. "

"I might as well make a clean breast of it, " said Skippy, wonderingwhere the exigencies of the situation would lead him. 

"I'm afwaid Jack, " said Miss Tupper sympathetically, "that your fwiendArthur Gween ith not a vewy good influenth for you. "

"Snorky?" said Skippy momentarily surprised. 

"He theems to have vewy low athothiations, " said Miss Tupper earnestly. 

"You mean racing and jockeys and all that sort of stuff?" said Skippy, willing to follow the line of least resistance for a while. "Oh, Arthurisn't half bad. "

"I don't think you thee him ath he weally ith, " said Miss Tupper firmly. "No I don't think he ith at all the pwoper perthon for you to be with. "

"Couldn't I help him?" said Skippy craftily. "We should always try tohelp, shouldn't we?"

"You would have to be vewy vewy stwong for that, wouldn't you?"

"Yes, of course, " said Skippy, with his mind on the delicate arch ofMiss Tupper's little foot. 

Miss Tupper, who was expectantly set for an interesting confession, wassomewhat disappointed at the lengthy delay. 

"I'm afwaid your pawenth gave you too much money, " she said finally. "Itith tho often that, ithn't it?"

There were some things that were too much even for Skippy's imagination. In the present case it absolutely refused to follow such a lead. 

"No, it wasn't that, " he said slowly. After all it is only the first onehundred thousand lies that are difficult. Skippy's hesitation was brief. He remembered the episode of the fictitious Tina Tanner that had sooften served him in delicate moments. 

"I almost made a wreck of my life, " he began, frowning terrifically. 

"Tell me, " said Miss Tupper eagerly. 

"She wasn't a bad sort; only, --well stage life is different. "

"Stage life! You mean--"

"She was an actress, " said Skippy nodding. 

"But how--"

"I ran away from home. They never understood me. Family fight. Swore I'dnever set foot in the old house again. Cut for the West. You get to seea rough side of life like that you know, mining camps, mule drivers, lumber men. Good sorts, " he added reflectively, "but wild, very wild. You couldn't understand. "

"But your father and mother?" said Miss Tupper, wide-eyed and thoroughlythrilled. 

"I'd rather not say anything against them, " said Skippy magnanimously. 

"Poor boy!"

"I've kept pretty straight considering, " said Skippy, who did not wishto paint the picture too black. 

"And the girl?" said Miss Tupper, who could not restrain a perfectlyfeminine curiosity. 

"Tina? She wanted me to go on the stage with her, " said Skippy, who hadnow told the story a sufficient number of times to begin to believe init. "It was touch and go. Well, I didn't. That's all. "

"What a dweadful thide of life you've theen, " said Miss Tupper, appalled. "At your age, too!"

"I say, I never expected to tell any one this. "

"But aren't you glad you did? Don't you feel better now that you'vetold the twuth!" said Miss Tupper enthusiastically. 

Skippy thought this over and acknowledged finally that confession was arelief. 

"Now pwomise never, never to gamble, smoke, or dwink. Pwomise, Jack. Youdon't know how much better you'll feel. "

"I'm not strong on signing pledges and that sort of thing, " said Skippycautiously. 

"Oh no, juth pwomise. "

"For how long?"

"Until you're twenty-one. "

"I think it's better to promise what you're sure you can carry out, don't you? It has a better effect, " said Skippy craftily. "Tell you whatI'll do. I'll make a promise for a year. Only there's one thing. "

"What's that?"

"I'll promise to try and cut out the smoking, but it will have to belittle by little. "

"Jack!"

"My nerves won't stand it, " said Skippy, bringing forth thenicotine-splotched hand. "I'll do my best. I will, I'll do it for you. I'll cut down to a box a day. "

"A box?"

"Ten cigarettes, only ten, but I must have ten, " said Skippy hungrily. "But Jennie, you'll have to help a lot. "

"You'll pwomise then?"

"I pwomise, " said Skippy, falling into the lisp. 

He extended his hand and profiting by the solemnity of the moment heldit with the softest and gentlest of thrills, while he said slowly:

"Ten cigarettes a day. No more. That's my solemn promise. "

"But the gambling?" said Miss Jennie, disengaging her hand. 

"That's another promise, " said Skippy, taking her hand again. "I promisefor the space of one year, never to sit in a game of poker for money, never to shoot craps with Tacks Brooker or Happy Mather. . . . "

"Ith thith nethethawy?" said Miss Tupper blushing and seeking to freeher hand from the not too painful embrace. 

"I want to be sure of everything, " said Skippy retaining tight hold. "Never to frequent race tracks, that's a promise too, or to bet on theponies, or to go into pool rooms. "

"That's quite enough, " said Miss Tupper, glancing nervously up towardsthe veranda. 

"But I haven't promised to give up drinking and all that sort of thing, "said Skippy enthusiastically. 

Miss Tupper, in whom a slight suspicion was beginning to grow as to theexact motives back of the sudden conversion, hesitated, but finally putforth her hand a third time. 

"I promise, " said Skippy, drawing a deep breath and sailing away onperfumed clouds to an invisible choir. "I want to make this somethingterrific; it's the most important you know. I promise for the space ofone year, --so long as you care enough to answer my letters, that's onlyfair you know--I promise never to touch a drop of beer or ale, orwhiskey, or rum, or brandy, or sherry, or port, or . . . "

"Alcohol in any form, " said Miss Tupper, the color of the rambler. 

"In any form. So help me God, " said Skippy slowly. 

"There, " said Miss Tupper, somewhat thrilled herself. "And now don't youfeel better, much, much better for having done it?"

And Skippy answered truthfully, "You bet I feel better. "

 * * * * *

Skippy, indeed, would have sworn to anything just for the look thatlighted up the velvety eyes in the joy of salvation. It is doubtful ifhe even heard half of the program of his future existence. There wassomething irresistible in the softness of her eyes and the fascinatinglisp. He was face to face at last with a good influence. He had met, notthe type of girl that men play with lightly or madly for a month or aday, but a woman, the kind rough coarse men look up to as to a polarstar, the kind of woman you think of winning after years of struggle, that keeps men straight and their thoughts on higher things, the kind ofwoman that pulls a drunkard out of the gutter, reclaims him and makes agenius out of the wreck. He would be saved by her, he was bound hewould--no matter what sacrifices he would have to make to keep in propersinful condition. 

CHAPTER XXXIII

SUDDEN INTEREST IN THE BIBLE

SNORKY GREEN had experienced so many shocks in his intimate contact withhis chum's imagination that he had come to believe the future could holdno surprises for him. But that evening Skippy after a long searchingthrough bookcases said with a worried air:

"I say, Snorky, where do you keep the Bible?"

"The--the Bible?" said Snorky faintly. 

"Sure, the Bible. "

Snorky's first thought was that Skippy must be the victim of a secretmalady and ready to make his will. His next was even more alarming. 

"You're not thinking of anything rash, are you, old horse?"

"What the deuce?"

"You and Jennie?"

"What the Sam Blazes are you driving at?"

"Thought you were looking up the marriage service, " said Snorkyfacetiously. 

"Shucks, no. Nothing of the sort. I just, I just want to look up areference. "

"What reference?"

"It's of a personal nature, very personal, " said Skippy. 

At the end of an hour's search Snorky finally produced a Bible from thecook and watched Skippy turn through the pages in a perplexed manner. 

"I've watched that coot do some queer things, " he thought, scratchinghis ear, "but I'll be jiggswiggered if I can figure out what he's up tonow. "

At the end of half an hour Skippy looked up nonplussed. 

"What do you know about the Bible, anyhow?"

"I know a lot, " said Snorky astutely. 

"Where do you get the ten commandments, anyhow?"

Snorky repeated the question, more and more perplexed. 

"Why it's in Genesis isn't it?"

"Naw, I looked all through that. "

"How about Solomon? He was wise to everything. "

"Who was the guy who went up to Heaven? Perhaps he got 'em. "

"Let's ask the cook. "

Which was done. 

"Now what in the Sam Hill has Skippy to do with the ten commandments orthe ten commandments with Skippy?" said Snorky, observing theextraordinary concentration on his chum's face as he considered themcarefully one by one. "Perhaps the heat has hit him and he's going infor religion. "

The explanation of Skippy's eccentric taste was a perfectly simple one. No sooner had he departed from the lovely presence of Miss Jennie Tupperwith only the vaguest idea of what he had pledged himself not to do, butwith the liveliest and most disturbing memory of the softest of hands, than he had bitterly repented the prodigal manner in which he had thrownaway his opportunities. 

"Why the deuce didn't I save something out, " he said to himself angrily, with a sudden recollection of moonlight nights to come. "My aunt's cat'spants, but I certainly went to sleep. "

From the parsonage to the Greens', from the soup to the watermelon, butone idea obsessed him: how was he to find something else to swear off?For instinct, which supplants reason in such sentimental voyages, warnedhim that to such a professional reformer as Miss Jennie Tupper his solefascination lay in a lively display of original sin. 

The more he thought it over the more depressed he had become. The truthwas that he had outrageously neglected his opportunities and had littleto offer. All he could do was to fall back on his imagination and suchknowledge of the world as returned to him from an extensive preparationin modern fiction. The trouble with his imagination was it worked toospontaneously. How much better he could have done with a little morepreparation!

"Gee, I never knew a hand could give you such a fuzzy feeling, " he saidwith a heavy sigh. 

It was then that he had thought of the Bible and the ten commandmentswith much resulting perplexity to Snorky. 

"Well, I'll be eternally dog-switched, " he said all at once. "I neverwould have believed it!"

"Believed what?" said Snorky, who was waiting patiently. 

"Say, these are the ten commandments, aren't they?"

"Sure they are!"

"Genuine, bona-fide, patent applied for, no imitations, only originalten commandments?"

"Keerect. "

"Well do you know there isn't a thing in them about cigarettes, or boozeor penny-ante. Not a word!"

"Honest?"

"Read 'em yourself, " said Skippy indignantly. "It's all about being niceto your neighbor and sitting still on Sunday. "

"No!"

"Fact!" said Skippy, whose real irritation was caused by the fact thatthe ten commandments did not afford him any suggestion in his newpredicament. 

Suddenly Snorky slapped his shoulder with a resounding whack. 

"I'm on. "

"Ouch! On to what?"

"Own up! I'm in the same box too, " said Snorky with a smirk. 

"You mean?"

"Sure, Margarita's trying the reform racket on me too!"

"Oh, she is?" said Skippy, who did not like sharing the honors of astellar rôle. 

"Yep, and you must have been laying it on strong for Margarita's beenasking all sorts of questions about you. "

"Snorky, go the limit--make it strong and stronger, " said Skippy, brightening up. 

"Honest?"

"The limit!"

"I get you. "

Skippy took a few steps towards the door and reflected. 

"When I say the limit--" he said doubtfully. 

"Leave it to me. "

"There are some things though. "

"Don't worry--trust me. "

"Well, however, I say, --don't get rash. "

"Keep on trusting me, " said Snorky with an airy wave of his hand. 

Something in the repetition struck Skippy where he was the weakest, inthat wholesouled faith which should sanctify the friendship of alifetime. The more he considered it the less he liked it. 

"I have made a mistake, " he said frowning. "Snorky has no sense ofdiscretion. "

CHAPTER XXXIV

THE WAY OF THE TRANSGRESSOR

MISS JENNIE TUPPER at the end of a week acknowledged to herself with anuneasy sense of her own shortcomings that the task of keeping Mr. SkippyBedelle in the straight and narrow path was one beyond her limitedexperience. It was not that she had lost confidence in her ownefficiency, but that she anxiously asked herself if she could afford thetime and the effort. Skippy was all for the better life and yielded atonce to her suggestions. The trouble was in his staying put, as it iscolloquially expressed. Each evening the cure was complete, but eachmorning the conversation had to begin all over. The hold that his pastlife had taken upon him was simply staggering and the hankering for theexcitement of the gambling table or the struggle against the narcotictyranny of the demon cigarette was such that at times she had to sitlong moments holding his storm-racked and shaking hand while he foughtbravely against the maddening appetite! And after a week of the closestpersonal attention he had only cut down the allowance of cigarettes toseven a day!

Now Miss Tupper was upright and God-fearing and self-respecting, andthough there was a difference of three years all in her favor, she, unlike some of her sex, scorned the use of her personal attractions, simply for the sake of a personal vanity, nor was she a collector ofmale scalps. She was in a moral quandary of the most metaphysicalcomplexity. What should she do: shirk her evident moral responsibilityand allow a bravely battling human soul to sink into iniquity orcontinue and permit a most susceptible youngster to immerse himselfdeeper and deeper into a hopeless passion?

Each day she came to the task of regenerating Mr. Skippy Bedelleresolved to conduct the proceedings on the grounds of the strictestformality, and each evening she admitted to herself the failure. Yetcould she honestly blame herself? She gave him her female sewing-societypin to wear not as a personal token but solely as a daily reminder ofthe promises he had made to himself. She gave him a tie, a coloredhandkerchief and the sweater she had just finished for anotherdestination. But each was given as a reward and marked a triumphantprogress in his fight to acquire a final mastery over himself. When, however, Skippy brought up the question of a photograph, a crisis wasreached. 

"I have never never given my picture to any man, " she said firmly, andthe absence of sibilants made it doubly impressive. "And I never neverwill. Bethideth, you know I would have to tell my mother. "

They were sitting in the summer house at that romantic hour when thefirst day stars arrive with the mosquitoes. It was always at suchmoments that the craving was strongest. She had begun by holding hiswrist in a strong encircling clasp but the sight of his twitchingcontorted fingers had been too much for her sensibilities and her handhad slipped into a more intimate clasp. 

"After all he's only a boy, " she had said to herself. 

"Jennie! how can you--don't you--do you realize all I'm doing--just foryou?" said Skippy, whose voice at such moments was not under control. 

"No, no, you ought to do it for yourself, becauth it ith the right thingto do, becauth it will make you feel stwonger and finer. "

"Nope, it's you or nothing. "

"Jack, you muthn't thay thuch thingth. I muthn't let you!"

"It is the first time I've ever cared what became of me, " said Skippylugubriously. "You don't know what that pin means to me. "

"But--"

"Do you realize what I'm going back to? Old associations, old habits anda long, long, fight! And then there's Snorky. I've got to save himtoo. "

"But Jack--"

"I'm not asking for anything more than just your picture, nothingmore, --nothing that commits you to anything! But I do want that, I musthave that! I want to rise up every morning and remember and, and I wantto come back every night and know that I can face your eyes, " saidSkippy warming up. "I say it must be a full face, not a profile, youknow. "

"I haven't thaid I would, " said Miss Jennie in dreadful perplexity. 

"But you will. "

There was a long silence. 

"You will, won't you!"

"I--I will think it over, " said Miss Tupper finally, remembering theterrific report which her sister had brought her via Snorky Green. "Iwill give you my dethition after thupper. "

That evening, Skippy, excusing himself from Snorky, who was takingMargarita to a lecture on the fauna and flora of Yucatan, set out forthe parsonage with a thumping heart. If the truth be told he was notaltogether convinced of the durability of his attraction for MissJennie, but he was quite certain of one thing, if there was even asporting chance of Snorky's adding the blonde sister to his photographicgallery in the communal room in the Kennedy House, he could neverconfess failure! The state of his own emotion perplexed him. When he wasaway, he could look on with a certain amused calm as though the wholething were but a fascinating game. Indeed, at times he felt gorgeously, terrifically guilty, the gayest and blackest of black Lotharios. Yet nosooner had he looked into the soft velvety eyes and felt the touch ofher warm fingers than he was certain, absolutely certain that his life'sdecision had been made, that he wanted to stand forth as a man of thestrongest character, and slowly and patiently struggle upward to thoseheights where serenely she would wait for him. 

He consumed three cigarettes--rapidly and faithfully, to make up theseven of the daily quota, mutually agreed upon; flicked the dust off hisshoes with his handkerchief, tightened his belt and his tie, and, havingfanned himself with his hat, found at last the courage to tread thenoisy gravel and ring the bell. On his way he had built up a dozeneloquent conversations, but all memory of things tender and convincingwere forgotten as he ventured over the slippery floor of the parlor andbeheld at the side of Jennie a large blown-up, thin-haired male visitorin ecclesiastical black, who was introduced to him as the Rev. PercyTuptale. 

Intuition is a strange thing that fortunately returns to lovers, drunkards and children in their hour of need. From the first touch ofher hand and the first look into her face Skippy knew that a crisis hadarrived. Mr. Tuptale was so placidly and professionally at ease andMiss Tupper so nervously and unsibilantly conversational that theconversation bubbled on like a kettle steaming in a distant room. Henodded once or twice, Mr. Tuptale fingered a magazine while Jennie ranon softening the s's. 

"Something awful is going to happen, " thought Skippy, staring at thebiblical engravings on the wall. "They're going to try to make me giveback that pin. "

Miss Tupper stood up. Skippy stood up. Mr. Tuptale stood up. 

"Jack, I have taken a therious, a vewy therious thep, " said Miss Tupperflushing. "I do want to help you tho much but, but I have thought, thatith, I am afwaid I know tho little how. You may think it dweadful ofme--"

She paused and Skippy frozen to the marrow said icily, "Yes, what is it?"

"I have gone to Mr. Tuptale--to Perthy for advithe. I, I had to. "

"Excuse me, " said Skippy loftily. "Is Mr. Tuptale, are you, --is he?"

"Well, yeth, " said Jennie, blushing, while a smile spread enormouslyover Mr. Tuptale's features. 

"Oh!"

"You thee that ith why, " said Jennie hastily, "and, oh Jack, I do wantyou to talk to him, juth ath you talked to me. Tell him evwything. Heith tho helpful and tho underthanding. "

She swayed from one foot to another and glanced from the boy to the man, undecided. 

"Jennie, dear, " said Mr. Tuptale with surgical ease, "I thinkahem--suppose you let us talk this over together. It would be easier, wouldn't it?"

"Oh yeth, indeed!"

The next moment they were alone. 

"And now my boy, " said Mr. Tuptale blandly. "Come, sit down. Let's haveit out like man to man. "

Skippy did not at once comply. He walked slowly around the red plushrocker and then back to the bamboo fire-screen and rested his elbowslightly upon it and glowered at the all-unconscious curate, murder inhis heart. 

"Jennie is very fond of you, Jack, " said Mr. Tuptale, caging hisfingers. "She has a warm and sympathetic nature, a big heart, and I canquite understand how deeply concerned she is in the brave fight you aremaking. I want you to accept me as a friend, a real friend. I know menand I know what temptations are, early associations, acquired habits. Jack, my boy, there is nothing really wrong in you. I saw that themoment you came into the room. "

"Who said there was--pray?" said Skippy, whose hands were trembling withrage. 

Mr. Tuptale looked up quickly, frowned and said:

"Jennie has told me all--naturally. "

"She told you I gambled. "

"She did. "

"She told you I drank, and she told you I smoked. "

"She did, of course, and I consider it was her duty to do so. "

"Well is there anything wrong in that, I ask you?"

"Anything wrong in gambling, drunkenness, steeping oneself with tobaccountil your hand shakes like a leaf?" said Mr. Tuptale, rising. 

"Exactly. Do you know your ten commandments, sir?"

"Are you insulting me, sir?" said the curate, yielding to a perfectlynatural irritation. 

"Kindly point out to me in the ten commandments where any habit of mineis forbidden, " said Skippy with the most impressive of declamatoryattitudes. 

Mr. Tuptale's jaw dropped, twice he tried to answer and twice remainedinarticulate. 

Skippy possessed himself of his hat and bowed in scorn. 

"You will kindly restore to Miss Tupper this pin, " he said, producing itafter a struggle with his tie. "Also inform her that I shall immediatelysend back to her other articles I need not now specify. Thank you foryour interest in my case but it is quite unnecessary--quite. I can standby the ten commandments. Good night. "

He went down the scrunching gravel and slammed the gate. 

"And there is more, sir, " he exclaimed aloud, forgetting that he was nowalone. "One thing more. You can tell Miss Tupper that even among thelowest of my associates, gamblers and drunkards and race-track sharksthough they be, a promise given is sacred, sacred, sir, and the man whobreaks it is, is, is--"

But here rage quite overtook him and he picked up a stone and flung itat an inoffensive tree. 

"It's all Snorky!" he said in the swift progress of moods. "I knew he'doverdo it! Holy Mike, what in Sam Hill did he tell Margarita! He musthave--he--" But again imagination failed him and he proceeded on hisway, fists sunk in his pockets, sliding along gloomy lanes. 

"And I believed I had met a good woman!" he said bitterly. "Faugh, they're all alike. Well, I don't care what does become of me. Serve herright if I went plump to the bad. And by jingo, I'll do it too!"

Whereupon, having resolved upon a life of crime, he plunged his handinto his pocket and cast from him the now unnecessary cigarettes!

CHAPTER XXXV

THE SCALP HUNTER

SKIPPY in his sentimental progress had now reached the point where if hecould not control the impulses of his sentiments he could at leastreview the past with some instructive profit. 

"Girls are queer things, aren't they?" he said ruminatively to SnorkyGreen, for the mood of confidence was on him. 

"Queerer and queerier, " said Snorky, considering the bosom of lastnight's dress shirt with a view to future service. 

"They get you before you know it and as soon as they get you they worrythe life out of you. One way or the other they start to making youmiserable just as soon as you show them you've fallen for them. Nowwhy?"

"Woman has no sense of gratitude, " said Snorky, who had heard the phrasefrom a brother who had suffered. 

"And you can't be friends with them--well you know, just friends. "

"I know, " said Snorky heavily. 

"What gets me, " said Skippy, "is why we fall and fall and fall. "

"Habit. "

"Well, perhaps. "

"Sure, habit, that's all. "

"But this is the queerest of all, " said Skippy, yawning and stretchinghis arms deliciously. "How darned fine you feel when it's all over. Yougo to bed thinking the bottom's been kicked out of things and you wakeup feeling so Jim dandy rip-roarin' chuck full of happiness that youwonder what's happened, and then you remember that you're cured! Yourtime's your own. You can wear, do and say what you like, spend yourmoney on yourself. You're free! Now it is queer, isn't it?"

"Like having a tooth out?" said Snorky. 

"Exactly. "

"Say, what story did you cook up about me to Margarita Tupper?" saidSkippy, tying the white cravat for the sixth time. 

"Bygones is bygones, " said Snorky evasively. 

"You must have had me robbin' a coach or skinning a cat, " said Skippyencouragingly. 

"You were throwing yourself away there, old top, " said Snorky, avoidingthe direct answer. "Why in another week you'd a been reading littleRollo and taking to crocheting--a girl who lisps like that, too!Whatever was eating you, anyhow?"

"She talked like a shower bath, " said Skippy unfeelingly, "but her eyeswere lovely. Well, that's over. "

"What's the use? You'll fall again. "

"Never, " said Skippy firmly. Then he qualified it. "That is, not in thesame way. "

"There ain't no two ways. "

"Sure there is. It's like swimming. You can dive in or you can sit onthe bank and splash with your toes--Savvy?"

"Ha! ha!"

"Wait and see. I know a thing or two. "

Twenty minutes later, having assumed the full glories of evening dress(with studs of the good old-fashioned style that remained anchored), they departed for dinner at the Balous across the way. 

"Say, put me on, " said Skippy, who like all artists of the imaginationwas seized with an uncontrollable nervousness before facing an audience. "Who's in the party?"

"Only Charlie and Vivi. "

"Vivi?"

"Real name's Violet but she's dressed it up. "

"What's she like? What's her line?"

"Stiff as a ramrod--prim as an old maid, conversation strictlyeducational. "

"Well, what does she look like?"

"Flabby as a cart-horse. "

"Say, what the devil--"

"Grub's o. K. And there'll be fun after, " said Snorky by way ofjustification. 

"How's the old folks?"

"Mr. Balou? He's a terror, gives you the willies. If he doesn't freezeyou the old girl will. "

Skippy's traditional scepticism of any statement with the Snorky stampwould have warned him at any other time. But this being in a way a newexperience in strange waters, his nervousness got the better of him. Halfway up the driveway he plucked Snorky's sleeve. 

"Listen. "

"Let go me arm you chump. "

"What do you say to them?"

"Say to whom?"

"Mr. And Mrs. "

"Talk about the weather, you ignoramus. "

"Sure I know that, but afterwards, at dinner, what do you talk aboutthere?"

"Don't worry, that's what girls are for. "

Despite which advice, Skippy nervously ran over his conversationalammunition. There was of course Maude Adams to begin with. He tried hardto think of some book he had read--some work of sufficient dullness toserve up to this blue stocking atmosphere. 

"Stop shootin' your cuff, " said Snorky, applying his finger to the bell. "Don't you know anything about society?"

"Who's nervous?" said Skippy indignantly. 

His backbone stiffened to the consistency of the white manacle thatimprisoned his throat, he brushed the slight powder of the dust from theshining patent leathers, which in the fashion of the day extended inlong pointed toes, shot back his cuffs for the twentieth time, feltsurreptitiously to assure himself that his part was functioning properlyand slid behind Snorky Green as he entered the parlor. 

Something that was neither prim nor stiff nor in the least resembled acart-horse bore down on them with a swish of ruffled skirts. 

"Hello, Arthur, how nice of you to come. Dad and Mumsy are out so we'reall to ourselves, " said Miss Vivi Balou. "Mr. Bedelle? Oh I've heard alot about _you_!"

"Really now, what do you mean?" said Skippy, with a long breath ofrelief. 

Miss Balou held his hand just an extra minute as she said this, lookingup into his face with an expression of the greatest interest. She wasjust over five feet, of the dreaded species of brunettes, with a thin, upward pointing little nose and the brightest of eyes. 

"Oh I know a terrible lot, " she said, giving to her mischievous glancejust the slightest, most complimentary shade of apprehension. 

Mr. Skippy Bedelle grew two inches toward the ceiling and looked for amirror. 

Two strictly plain young ladies, roommates of Miss Balou's fromFarmington, with large black sash bows in their hair, were introduced asMiss Barrons and Miss Cantillon. 

"Elsa Barrons is perfectly wonderful with the dumb-bells, look at herforearm, and Fanny isn't good looking but awfully clever, " said MissBalou in a whisper which was already confidential. 

Brother Charles now sauntered in and shook hands with the magnificentcondescension of a sophomore. 

"Have a cigarette before dinner?"

He flashed a silver case and tendered it to Snorky, who beingunprepared, hesitated, and took one. 

"Cigarette?"

"Love to but I'm in training, " said Skippy. 

Charles, having arrived at the age when everything should weigh heavilyupon a sophisticated appetite, bored with his sister, bored withsister's plain looking friends and bored with sister's beaux, retired tothe fireplace, where he draped himself on the mantelpiece and lookedproperly bored with himself, an illusion of greatness which waspeculiarly impressive to tadpole imaginations. 

The arduities of the opening conversation were fortunately interruptedby the announcement of dinner and Skippy, with Maude Adams in reserve, found himself at table between Miss Balou and the swinger of dumb-bells. 

"You're a Princeton man?" said Miss Barrons after several long breaths. 

Skippy apportioned the compliment to his manly air and the magnificentlines of the dress suit. 

"No, I'm Yale. That is I'm preparing, " he said carelessly, and hopingthat Snorky wasn't listening he added: "Family didn't want me to go intoo young, you know. "

"Oh yes, I know, " said Miss Barrons with an appreciative glance at hisprecocious brow. "I think that's much better too. You don't have half asgood a time if you go to college too young. "

"Eighteen's about right, " said Skippy in a more mature manner. 

The subject being exhausted Skippy counted up the forks while hiscompanion, to appear at ease, asked for the salt to put in her soup. 

"Do you know Jim Fisher?" she said suddenly. "He's going to Yale nextyear. "

Skippy did not know Jim Fisher. 

"I wonder if you know a perfectly dandy girl?"

"Who's that?"

"Alice Parks. "

Skippy did not know Alice Parks, though she lived in New York City. Likewise with a growing feeling of his profound social ignorance, hesuccessively admitted that he did not know Cornelia Baxter, FrancesBowen or Harry Fall. Whereupon Miss Barrons abandoned him to conversewith Charles who did know Alice Parks who was so attractive and HarryFall who had such a strong character. 

"What the devil is there to talk about, " said Skippy to himself as hefidgeted with the soup. "What an awful bore society is. "

There was Maude Adams, but how was he to get to her?

"I'm just crazy about harps, " said Miss Cantillon, who was clever. "Ithink they're wonderful. "

"Harps--oh yes, " said Charles Balou. 

Miss Cantillon appealed to the table. 

"Do you like them better than violins?" said Miss Barrons doubtfully. 

"Oh much better!"

"They're too big, " said Snorky wisely. 

"Yes, that is the trouble. It's a perfect shame too. They are too big tocarry round but they are so melodious. I don't like the piano--it's socold--"

While the conversation raged on the proper classification of musicalinstruments, Miss Balou turned from Snorky to Skippy and looked him oncemore in the eyes with her interested glance. 

"Yes, I've heard a lot about you, " she said with a knowing look. 

"Really now?"

"You're a perfectly ghastly flirt, " she said, lowering her voice. "Yougive a girl a terrific rush for a week or two and then pop off withouteven saying good-bye. Never mind though. I'm warned. "

Again the look, the interested look of trying to discover the secret ofhis fascination. It was quite unlike the way any other girl had everlooked at him. Other girls looked at you side-wise or averted their eyeswhen they met yours. But this was different. It was mocking, impertinent, insinuating, but it did not displease him. He saw that hehad made an impression, an instantaneous impression. He mystified herperhaps but he interested her intensely. For the first time he hadconquered with a look. 

"Who told you?"

"That's telling. "

"I'll bet I know. "

"Bet you don't. "

"Bet I do. "

"What'll you bet?"

"Two pounds of chocolates against a necktie. "

"Done, who is it?"

"Some one here. "

"Nope. You've lost. "

"Who then?"

"Some one who knows Dolly Travers, " said Vivi with a mocking smile. 

"Oh!"

"Brute, " said Vivi in the greatest admiration. 

"Really I--"

"Now don't be modest--I hate modest men. It makes it twice as bad. She'svery attractive, isn't she?"

"Very, " said Skippy, feeling every inch a man. 

"But she's rather young--for you, isn't she?" said Vivi artfully. 

"They put glasses on cows in Russia, " said Miss Cantillon importantly. She had a reputation as a brilliant conversationalist to uphold. 

This assertion woke up the table. 

"Cows?"

"Glasses?"

"Fanny dear, how excruciating!"

Even the sophomore was surprised into expressing his incredulity. 

"Colored glasses on account of the glare of the snow, " said MissCantillon. 

"Fanny!"

"Fact, in Siberia. I read it in the papers. "

"Cows can't live in the snow. "

"But Siberia isn't all snow. "

"Most of it is. "

"Isn't it wonderful the things she knows?" said Vivi admiringly. "Do youlike brainy women?"

"That depends, " said Skippy while he stopped to consider. "I don't knowany. "

"Oh what a dreadful cynical remark!" said Vivi with another admiringlook. "Heavens, I shall be frightened to death what I say to you. I'msure you're awfully clever yourself. Perhaps I'll have a chance. Clevermen hate clever women, don't they?"

"There is certainly something about my particular style of beauty that'sbowled her over, " thought Skippy to himself. 

"Oh I don't know, " he said, fatuously unconscious of the virtues heconceded to himself. "Dolly Travers was quite clever, you know. "

"Brute!" said Miss Balou for the second time. 

"Oh come now--"

"Do you know what I think about you?"

"What do you think?"

"I think you'd be lots of excitement at a house party, " said Miss Vivi, shaking her head. "Just for a few days. I think you'd give a girl thegrandest sort of a rush, but as for believing a word you said--never!"

"What do you mean?" said Skippy, immensely puffed up. 

"It shows in your eyes, " said Vivi with a look of having at lastdeciphered the mystery. "Besides, girls have spoiled you. You have hadthings too easily. No wonder you're conceited. "

Miss Cantillon was discoursing brilliantly on a crow that had beenstruck by lightning in Oklahoma and had fallen into a wheat field andset fire to the grain, which had precipitated a conflagration which hadnecessitated calling out the fire departments of two counties. 

"You're offended now, " said Vivi in a contrite whisper. 

"Some one's given you an awfully bad opinion of me, " said Skippystiffly, frowning to show the displeasure he did not feel. 

"Well it's true, isn't it?"

"It is not!"

"How about Jennie Tupper?"

"Oh that!" said Skippy burying the memory with a wave of his hand. 

"You see you _are_ a brute! Well I don't mind. I like your hands. "

Skippy took a precautionary glance at the ends of his baseball fingersand then allowed them to come to rest on the tablecloth. 

"Now you're trying to jolly me, " he said astutely. 

"No. I always notice hands the first thing. They tell so much about yourcharacter. I saw yours at once. "

"You can read hands?" said Skippy, who knew this much of the etiquetteof the game. 

"Yes, but not now, " said Vivi in a promissory tone. 

Skippy's attitude towards social functions underwent a change of front. He began to feel confidently, vaingloriously at ease. He joined in thegeneral conversation determined to rout the brilliant Miss Cantillon, who knew so many things. Now the rule for such preëminence is simple andsome acquire it by cunning and others by instinct. Deny the obvious. Reputations have fattened on nothing else. When inevitably the momentarrived to discuss Maude Adams, and her latest play, Skippy announcedthat he did not like Maude Adams. 

"Not like Maude Adams!"

There was a sudden silence and all eyes were turned expectantly towardhim as to a manifestly superior intelligence. Finally the swinger ofdumb-bells voiced the question. 

"But why?"

Skippy considered. 

"Too much like Maude Adams, " he said cryptically. 

Vivi looked at him in admiration. 

"How clever, I never thought of that. "

"Well, I'm just frantic about Maude Adams!" said the athletic MissBarrons stubbornly. 

"Because you like Maude Adams, " said Skippy as a clincher. 

By one bold stroke he had become a personage and what is more perceivedthat he had become one. Different topics were served up for hisjudgment. He pronounced flatly against colleges for women, womansuffrage and bobbed hair, predicted the election of Mr. Bryan and theprobable division of the United States into four separate republics. Even Snorky Green, who was floundering along on the subject of blazers_vs. _ sweaters, was impressed, and as for Miss Cantillon, she tried tostir up a little commotion by introducing the subject of The Lady fromNarragansett who had removed freckles by watermelon rinds, but theeffect was tepid and she relapsed into a listener. 

"Say, where did you get it?" said Snorky in a whisper as they passed outto the veranda. 

"Get what?"

"All this bright boy stuff! Why you're the little boy orator yourself. "

"I'll tell you how it's done sometime, " said Skippy magnificently. 

"Do you like views?" said Vivi, coming to him as a moth to the brightestflame. 

"That depends, " said Skippy, who being still in a mood of negation wasunwilling to concede anything. 

Miss Vivi accepted this as acquiescence and, it being early moonlightand dangerous underfoot, took his hand to lead him safely around theflower beds. Skippy having just discovered the secret to success encasedhimself in indifference and waited developments. 

"Isn't it romantic! Don't you _love_ it?" she said, arrived at a littlesummer house that jutted out over the darkling waters. 

"It's rather nice, " said Skippy, sternly repressing his emotionaltendencies. 

Vivi now ostentatiously disengaged her hand. 

"Please. "

"Is it safe now?" said Skippy anxiously. 

"How perfectly horrid of you, " said the young lady in pretendedindignation. "You make fun of everything, even the most sacred things. "

The relevancy of this was lost on Skippy who condescended to say, "View isn't half bad if the moon weren't so dreadfully lopsided. "

"Unsentimental wretch! I suppose you want to go back?" said Vivireproachfully. 

"Are there mosquitoes?"

"Just for that I'll keep you here until you're eaten up, " said Vivi, plucking a spray of honeysuckle and inhaling it with a sigh. "Isn't itwonderful, don't you adore honeysuckle in the moonlight?" she added, transferring it to his inspection. 

Skippy inhaled it loudly and announced that it was all right. 

"Jelly fish, " said Vivi throwing it away indignantly. 

Skippy resented "jelly fish. "

"Well you are! I never saw such a cold calculating unemotional brute. You're nothing but a great big icy brain. "

Skippy thought of the Roman and a hundred flunkings. 

"Better pull in on the infant phenom--Snorky might hear of it, " hethought. 

"Oh, I like it here, " he said in a more romantic tone. 

"Really?"

"Yep. "

A long silence and Vivi inhaled another sprig of honeysuckle anddevoured the moon. 

"How long you going to stay?"

"About a week. "

"Oh!"

Another silence. 

"You're so different. "

"How?"

"Don't know but you are--quite, quite different. You seem so much olderthan Arthur. "

"Well that all depends, " said Skippy, ready to draw on his imagination. 

"You've seen a lot of life, haven't you?"

"Yes I suppose so. "

"I saw that--in your hands. "

"I say, how about reading my character now?"

"No, not now, sometime later, perhaps. "

"Perhaps?"

"Well I don't know if I'd dare. What are you doing to-morrow?"

"Nothing particular. "

"Suppose we get up a hay ride and a picnic. The moon will be glorious. "

"Bacon and roast corn? Hurray!" said Skippy, most unromantically. 

Vivi got up suddenly. 

"Let's go back. "

"All right, but it's awfully dark. "

"Follow me. "

Skippy walked purposely into the first flower bed. 

"Help, I'm lost!"

Vivi stood considering. 

"Are you sorry?"

"Dreadfully. Ouch, I'm in a rose bush!"

"And you promise not to be cynical and aloof?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die, " said Skippy, very well pleased withhimself. 

Immediately the hand was offered and retained. To be magnanimous he gaveit a little extra squeeze. 

"That's not fair, " said Vivi. 

"All's fair in love and war, " said Skippy who, under the influence ofoutward conditions, momentarily forgot his rôle. 

 * * * * *

"My aunt's cat's pants, " said Snorky enviously, when they had departed. "You're getting to be a rapid worker, old top, you certainly are!"

"Oh I've learned a thing or two, " said Skippy pompously. 

"Splash with your toes, old horse, " said Snorky, shaking his head. "Lookout, Vivi's an old stager. She collects them. "

"What?"

"Scalps, " said Snorky with a significant gesture. 

"Just watch me. "

"You don't say so. "

"I've got her feeding out of my hand, gentle as a lamb, " said Skippy, remembering with a pleasant tickling sensation the mystified fascinationof her way of looking at him. 

"Cheese it, " said Snorky shaking his head. 

"This is different. "

"Whoa, old horse, whoa!"

"Snorky, old gal, " said Skippy, who had now settled down into thepredatory vision Miss Vivi had artfully evoked, "it's easy when you knowthe game. "

"And what's the game?"

"Don't get tagged. "

"Elucidate. "

"Keep 'em running after you. It's the first one who runs away who winsevery time. "

"Oh, simple as that?"

"Sure, that's all there is to it. "

"Let 'em love you, eh?"

"Oh well, " said Skippy modestly, but as he sought his bed he stole asatisfied glance into the mirror. 

CHAPTER XXXVI

SPLASHING WITH YOUR TOES

FOR the next six days Skippy was a very busy young man. He had areputation to sustain. The reputation was quite unjustified but that didnot alter matters. Miss Balou had given it to him and Miss Balou mustnot be disappointed. In the shifting comedy of life, Skippy was now castfor the part of the Demon Rusher. In those early ambling days before theautomobile and the aeroplane had brought their escape valves for humanenergy, the steam pressure of youth sometimes found expression in whatwas known as the rush. As the name implies the object of the maleparticipant was to carry all before him in cyclonic style, to dazzle andoverwhelm the breathless and bewildered lady by the blinding rapidity ofhis showered attentions. By mutual consent nothing binding was everimplied in this form of acrobatic sentiment and the knell was soundedwhen either party paused for breath. When a rush began all bystanderswithdrew as a matter of etiquette and waited for the dust to subside, much as, in the Simian days of the race, the lesser monkeys sat on abranch and hugged themselves when the big monk came courting. 

Skippy borrowed a bicycle and departed from the home of his chumdirectly after breakfast, having likewise borrowed various brilliantbits of manly luxury which flashed from his ankles, his neck and hisbreast pocket. At exactly nine o'clock as though by accident Miss Vivi'strim figure daintily balanced on the smartest of "Safety" bicyclesappeared from the Balou driveway and the following brilliant openingoccurred. 

"Why, Jack. What are you doing up so early?"

"Can't you guess?"

"Where are you going!"

"Same place you're going. "

"Who asked you?"

"You're going to. "

"How d'you know. "

"Somebody's eyes have told me so, " said Skippy in an unmusical treble. 

Vivi pretended to be immensely offended, Skippy was immensely concernedthat she should be offended. There was a long discussion whether he hadreally offended, whether he should be really forgiven and whether hereally intended to renounce such airs of proprietorship in the future. By this time the two bicycles were close together with Skippy's hands onher handle-bars and the terms of peace were concluded by the young ladycondescending to return to his appreciative gaze from underneath thelace brim of her hat whither she had taken refuge. They bicycled alongthe beach and Skippy expressed his wonder at the extent of her wardrobe. Vivi then remarked appreciatively upon his (or rather Snorky's) necktie. The conversation then expanded, easily and naturally along classiclines. 

The theory was simplicity itself--who knows, perhaps it has remained thesame to this day! For the twelve hours consecrated to each other'ssociety each day, Skippy denied what Vivi affirmed unless it happenedthat Vivi doubted what Skippy stated as a fact. There were of coursemany ramifications, sometimes it was a question of you did and youdidn't, sometimes it was and it wasn't, while any future speculation wasconfined to you will and you won't. As a matter of fact, nothing thatwas said really mattered and each knew it. Words were only so manyverbal flourishes in the most fascinating of duels. Each played at theundying passion with open parades and each was only secretly concernedwith bearing away the other's scalp. 

They canoed together, walked together, picnicked together, making onlyshort public appearances at the beach for the swimming hour and theevening hop. When they came to the club house they came late and dancedtogether on the porch to escape the exigencies of society. If someunfeeling brute did arrive to claim Vivi, it was always understood thatthe next dance reverted to Skippy, who meanwhile (this was de rigeur)sat on the railing and looked dreadfully dejected. It was all veryserious business, strenuous as training for the football team--butSkippy never relaxed. He had a reputation to sustain. Snorky gave him upfor lost. He no longer sought to warn him, but each night simply as amatter of ceremony he passed his hand solicitously over the shock ofstubby hair which adorned Skippy's elongated cranium just to assurehimself that the scalp remained unbroken. 

CHAPTER XXXVII

SKIPPY RETIRES WITH HIS SCALP

CAME the last day. End of the summer, of summer's warmth. End of languidsiestas on drowsy beaches, end of balmy moonlight nights, moonlightsails, moonlight picnics; end of intimate whispered half laughing, halfserious intimacies _a deux_. To-morrow separation and a man's life totake up again! To-morrow the chill of autumn and the melancholy ofdrifting leaves. The last partings to take, promises to be solemnlyexchanged--heart burnings, bottom dropped out of everything, anothermilestone to be registered in the scurrying flight of Time!

Mr. Skippy Bedelle and Miss Vivi Balou separated themselves from theunromantic middle-aged crowd around the tennis courts and made their wayup the beach to the sheltering swirls of convenient sand dunes. Theywalked in silence, oppressed by the greatness of their grief, from timeto time their shoulders touched in dumb understanding. 

"To-morrow!" said Skippy with a gulp in his throat. 

"Don't!"

"To-morrow--gee!"

He carried a beach chair, four sofa cushions, two rugs, her work-bag, abox of chocolates and a romance they had dipped into. 

"Don't!" repeated Miss Vivi, gazing out from under her pink parasol withstricken eyes at the unending sea. 

"To-morrow afternoon at this time!"

"It's been wonderful--wonderful week. "

He made a back of the chair, spread the rug and installed hersolicitously. Then he camped down not too far away, not too near, pulledhis cap over his eyes, locked his hands over his knees and stared outtoward the horizon that, somehow, attracts at such moments. 

A wind that was already cold played over the frosty waves and sentlittle scurries of sand twisting along the beach. 

"Have a chocolate?"

"Thanks. "

"Jelly or nut?"

"Nut. Thanks. "

They munched in silence. 

"That's the trouble with summer, " said Skippy at last. 

"Yes, isn't it?"

"It's rotten. "

"Oh why must everything end?" said Vivi wildly. 

"I can't realize that to-morrow--"

"You'll forget, men always forget. "

Skippy shook his head. 

"Yes. You'll write a letter or two and then heigh ho!"

"Look here, you don't mean that, " said Skippy, turning on her. 

Vivi's eyes dropped before his righteous indignation. 

"No--no I don't mean that. "

"Then don't talk that way--especially just now. "

"Forgive me--Jack?"

"What?"

"You do forgive me?"

"Of course. "

"You're going to do wonderful things at school, " said Vivi, trying to bebrave, "and I'm going to be so proud to think I know you. "

"Do you think they'll let you come down to the Andover game?"

"I don't know about the game--but the Prom!"

"Gee, you'll be a knockout there!"

They ate more chocolates, while Skippy debated how to lead theconversation into the softer strain before bestowing on the object ofhis affections (for value exchanged, of course) the sacred emblem of thePhilomathean Debating Society and bringing forth the Lawrencevillebanner which was tightly folded up in his bulging hip pocket. 

"I suppose you'll go back now to Dolly Travers, " said Vivi, whoseappetite for verbal expressions of sentiment was still far from beingsatisfied. "And forget all about--about this wonderful week. "

"Women are fickler than men, " said Skippy gloomily. 

"Not--not always. "

"Don't believe it. "

"Out of sight out of mind. "

"You know better than that, " said Skippy, digging into his change pocketfor the pin. 

"How do I know?" said Vivi encouragingly. 

"Because--" Suddenly Skippy remembered. His fingers relaxed on the pin. He brought forth his hand. "Say, you promised to read my hand you know. "

"Did I?"

"Sure you did. "

Miss Vivi sat up and carefully pillowed the squat calloused hand in hersoft one. For a moment she studied it, turning it over and back again, running her finger meditatively over the mounds and depressions. 

"Well?" said Skippy anxiously. 

"Shall I tell all?"

"Everything. "

"You have a very strong will--very obstinate and not easily influenced. Ambition will be your god and you will sacrifice--" Vivi hesitated. 

"I say, go on. "

"So far is true, isn't it?"

"Well, pretty true, " said Skippy, who began to enjoy his portrait. 

"You will sacrifice everything to your ambition--friends, family, thewoman who loves you. "

"Oh, I say!"

"It's here in your hand, " said Vivi, shocked at the discovery. "Womenwill play very little part in your life. It's not that you haven't a lotto give, you have. See this bump, that's affection. It's verydeveloped. "

"That's where I threw my thumb out of joint, " said Skippy doubtfully. 

"But you've had a terrible experience in your life that has shaken yourfaith and you are afraid to trust again. " Skippy looked the picture ofgloom at this and thought bitterly on Mimi Lafontaine after hesitatingonce or twice on the backward journey. "This has made you cynical andcold, ready to impute the lowest motives. Women will love you--manywomen, but you will give your heart only once more--and that--_that_will be a tragedy, on account of your own lack of faith. "

"Say, is all that there?" said Skippy, beginning to be alarmed. 

"That and more, " said Vivi, warming up. "You are very loyal, not at allconceited, brilliant intellectual qualities and you will make asuccess--" Here Vivi paused and turned his hand over, studying itcarefully. "I see railroads and banking in your hand. "

"Do you think so?" said Skippy unconvinced. 

"There it is. You will make loads and loads of money. "

"I say, do I get married?"

"That is not quite clear, " said Vivi frowning. "This looks like it--butagain this line--the cold calculating streak in your nature--"

At this moment, from down the beach, came a shrill whistle imitative ofthe whip-poor-will, insistent, querulous and repeated. 

Vivi dropped his hand and glanced hastily at her watch. 

"Good heavens, it's four o'clock!"

"All right, I'm on. Who's the little bird?" said Skippy, who had notheard himself described as the acme of suspicion for nothing. 

"Jack!"

The whip-poor-will rose to shriller heights. 

"It's Charlie Brownrigger, " said Vivi, trying to appear embarrassed, "and he's come round to say good-bye. "

"Oh, indeed. "

"I _had_ to let him say good-bye, " said Vivi imploringly to the youngsultan. "I've treated him abominably since you came. I can't be rude toa chap, can I? I'll be right back. "

"How long's it going to take?" asked Skippy, drawing out his watch. 

"Oh about twenty minutes, " said Vivi. 

"I'll wait exactly half an hour. Four-thirty to the minute. Not a secondmore. "

"I do believe you're jealous, Jack Bedelle!" said Vivi expectantly. 

"Jealousy has no part in my nature, " said Skippy loftily. "Besides youcan see it in my hand. Firmness, that's all!"

"Brute!" said Vivi with a killing glance. 

She picked up the pink parasol and hastened down the beach. Skippyfished out the Philomathean Debating Society pin and slowly attached itto his vest. He switched to the vacated place with the back rest andbegan to whistle to himself. At the end of a seeming hour he glanced athis watch. Exactly seven minutes had elapsed. 

"Half an hour was a mistake. Fifteen minutes is enough for a mut likeBrownrigger. I should have been firmer. When a girl gets you to waitingfor her--she has you going and coming. Firmer, I should have been muchfirmer!"

He slipped off his shoes to empty them of sand, and in doing so filledthe gayly coloured work-bag that was Vivi's. His toilette finished, hetook up the bag to clean it in turn. At the first touch as fate haddecreed a book tumbled out and lay with opened pages before him. Itlooked most suspiciously like a diary. He averted his eyes and then hisglance came slowly back to it. 

"Here, that's not square, " he said to himself angrily, torn by a mightytemptation. He leaned over and closed the book abruptly. The next momenthe was staring at three gilded words that confronted him with thesuddenness of Belshazzar's vision:

 THE CHAP RECORD

A sudden brain storm swept over the emotional nature of Mr. SkippyBedelle, of the sort which in modern legal etiquette is held to excuseall crimes. He knew what a chap record was. He had found one in hissister Clara's bureau and had been lavishly paid for his silence. Heopened it violently and this is what he read:

HARRY FELTON. June 30-Sept. 6th. Good-looking in a soapy sort of way, but dull: Good dancer, agonizingly slow at a twosing. Takes what yougive him and is grateful. Good for last minute calls. 

JOE RANDOLPH. July 2d-August 6th. Awfully lavish and liberal. Spoiledand hard to keep in place. Useful later. Salt away for College Prom. 

CHARLES BROWNRIGGER. Xmas to--. Terribly proper and easily shocked. Every girl an angel. Seeking a good influence. Good only for concertsand lectures. 

CHARLIE DULER. Easter vacation. Professional flirt. Tried hard for himbut no go. On to all the old tricks. Too much alike. 

HECTOR CHISOLM. May 3 to May 6th. Three day rush fast and furious. Niceteeth and eyes, cold English style in daytime but wilts rapidly in themoonlight. Dreadfully exciting. Au revoir!

 * * * * *

Having thus wandered through the carnage, Skippy braced himself andread:

 * * * * *

JACK BEDELLE. August 20th--Dreadfully young and conceited, feed him onflattery--nice eyes but funny nose--poor conversationalist but workshard. Dreadful dancer. Pretends indifference but awfully soft in spots. Hooked him in twenty minutes--

 * * * * *

Skippy laid the book down in his lap and glanced up the beach whichshowed no signs of an advancing parasol. Then he looked at his watchwhich indicated exactly the half hour. He sat a long moment thinking. Then he opened the book and at the paragraph devoted to him he added:

 "_Easy to hook is hard to hold. _"

But this did not satisfy him. He stood up and suddenly inspired sunk tohis knees and hurriedly gathered together the sand into a mound capableof burying Miss Vivi's little body. Across it he laid the opened book. At its head he placed the box of chocolates as a headstone. Then belowhe wrote in the sand (symbol indeed of transient loves):

 SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF VIOLET BALOU SLAIN BY HER OWN HAND August 27th, 1896. 

Then as a masterly afterthought he added savagely:

 GONE AND NOW FORGOTTEN

Mr. Skippy Bedelle then wriggled away through the sand dunes just asMiss Vivi Balou with malice aforethought came up the beach accompaniedby Mr. Charles Brownrigger. 

CHAPTER XXXVIII

THE PHILOSOPHICAL ATTITUDE

IT happened on the day before school opened; at that moment when Skippyreturning from his first sentimental summer had no other thought than torest up from the fatigue of the vacation and devote his activities tothe serious business of life. There were the freshman (a discouraginglot) to be properly educated, taught to punctuate their sentences with ahumble "sir, " "if you please" and "thank you;" there was a certain scoreto be settled with Al at the Jigger Shop and the basis of a new creditto be argued, there was the prize room on the third floor overlookingthe campus to be re-decorated with the loot of the summer, and onecrucial question to be decided forthwith:

"Shall we start training now or gorge ourselves for just one more day?"

"The Jiggers are peach, soft and creamy, " said Snorky with a pensivelook. "But we should set an example you know, old top, and all that sortof thing. "

"Keerect, we must. "

"I can see the crowd up at Conover's putting away the pancakes, " saidSnorky insidiously. 

"Be firm, " said Skippy, returning to his trunk. 

"It isn't only the Jiggers, " said Snorky, who sometimes practised virtuebut without the slightest enthusiasm, "it's--it's those éclairs--nevertasted anything like them, big, fat, luscious, oozing with cream--"

"Shut up, " said Skippy indignantly. "Where's your house spirit?"

"Can't a fellow be human?" said Snorky in an aggrieved tone. 

"All right, all right--but put your mind on other things, " said Skippynervously. 

He disengaged an armful from the bottom of his trunk and spreading it onthe window seat, contemplated the touch of many feminine hands with anexpression that was as cynically blasé as that of the traditionalpredatory bachelor. Whenever Skippy found a mood too elusive to beexpressed in words, his lips instinctively resorted to boyhood's musicaloutlet. His eyes traveled appraisingly over sofa cushions, pictureframes, knitted neckties and flags that represent those selectinstitutions where young ladies are finished off. He began to whistle, "I don't want to play in your yard, I don't like you any more . . . "

"My, you're a cold-hearted brute, " said Snorky, in whom perhaps thespirit of envy was strong. 

"I am, " said Skippy unctuously, "and I am going to be brutier, take atip from yours truly, _Moony_. "

He disposed of half a dozen cushions, draped two flags and carefullyplaced three photographs amid the gallery on his bureau. 

"Do you think that's honorable?" said Snorky resentfully. 

"Scalps, that's all!" said Skippy with a grandiloquent wave of his hand. 

"I get you. Heart whole and fancy free etcetera etceteray?"

"Every time. "

"Since when?" said Snorky wickedly. 

Skippy allowed this to pass, but having pensively contemplated theeffect produced by the addition of Miss Dolly Travers, Miss JennieTupper and Miss Vivi Balou to the adoring galaxy of the past, he swung aleg over the table and assuming that newly acquired manner of a man ofthe world, which was specially galling to his chum, announced, "Snorky, old horse, you play it wrong. "

"I do, eh?"

"You do. There's nothing in that fussing game. Women, my boy, are ourinferiors. "

"Well, it took you some time to find it out. "

"Keerect, but now I'm wise. Woman is like a harp in the desert, playedupon by every passing wind. "

"Where'd ye read that?"

"If you're going in for that sort of thing get promiscuous. The onlycure for one woman is another. "

"You ought to know. "

"Are you corresponding with Margarita?" said Skippy suddenly. 

"And if I am?"

Skippy shook his head sadly. 

"Woman--" he began sententiously and just then fate knocked at the door. 

"Come in if you're good-looking, " said Snorky, glad of the interruption. 

The door opened and discovered a short bulbous freshman, just a whitembarrassed as freshmen should be in the presence of royalty. 

"Oh well, come in any way, " said Skippy. "What's your name, freshman!"

"Potterman, " said the rotund youngster squeezing in. 

"Sir. "

"Sir. "

"What's the rest of it--the handle, the nickname. "

"Are we telling our real names?" said the new arrival, cocking hisderby. 

"Green, get out the bamboo cane, " said Skippy solemnly. 

"Oh well, they call me Hippo--sir, " said Potterman hastily. 

"Ah yes, Hippo Potterman. Of course. That's good, but we'll try to dobetter by you. Where did they find you?"

"Philamedelphia, sir. "

"What's that you've got there?" said Snorky just about to fall upon himbodily. 

"Please, sir, it's a letter from Mrs. Bedelle, your aunt. "

"Oh, I see, " said Skippy with a feeling of disappointment. "You know myaunt? Well, freshman, you may give it to me. I permit you. Advance. That's it. Curtsey. A little lower. Better. "

 DEAR JACK, My very dear friend Susan Potterman is sending her son Cornelius--

Skippy frowned and looked up incredulously. 

"Is your name really Cornelius?"

Potterman flushed like the rose and said with a gulp:

"Yes, sir, it is. "

"Too bad, too bad. "

 son Cornelius to Lawrenceville. Please do everything you can to make him at home and see that he meets the _best_ boys. His mother and sister will go on with him and I want you _particularly_ to be _very_ nice to them. 

 Affectionately, AUNT CARRIE. 

Skippy having read this twice, looked in the envelope to make sure thata five dollar bill was not enclosed, as all aunts should remember to do, and transferred his gaze to the fidgeting Hippo. 

"H'm, first time at boarding school?"

"Yes, sir. "

"Governesses before?"

Hippo, who had been recovering from his first feeling of awe, roaredloudly at this. 

Skippy looked indignantly at this breach of etiquette and reachedthoughtfully for a tennis racket. 

"Please, sir, " said Hippo hastily, "High school. "

Skippy considered him thoughtfully and something told him that in theright-hand lower vest pocket there was undoubtedly a certain amount ofround hard silver bodies and moreover that this condition was not simplyepisodic but chronic. 

"That coot may be fresh but he is going to do a lot of heavy spending, "he said to himself with conviction. 

How he knew is immaterial. There is an instinct that guides--some haveit, some haven't it. You can't explain it. Doc Macnooder for instancecould diagnose a pocket-book as keenly as a surgeon. It's a gift, that'sall. Skippy possessed this gift. 

"Mother just brought you in?"

Hippo acknowledged this with a look of the greatest distress. 

"Sister too?"

"Damn it, yes!"

Skippy looked at Snorky and shook his head. 

"Don't you know that profanity is a wicked, wicked habit, Hippo?"

Hippo's mouth started to swallow his ears, then returned to rest atsigns of a hostile atmosphere. He swung from foot to foot, lookedsheepish, looked terrified and finally blurted out:

"I beg pardon, sir. "

"It is a wicked habit, Hippo, but we are here to help you. It is verylucky for you that you have come to the right school, where you willmeet boys of fine manly standards. Kneel down, Hippo. "

"What, sir?"

"Go over to the bed and kneel down, " said Skippy in a voice of greatsadness. "Don't hesitate, Hippo. That's better. Now, Hippo, I want youto reflect upon what a wicked, wicked thing profanity is and I want youto ask God to forgive you and help you. Silently, Hippo. "

Hippo, who was green and fresh but not at all green and gullible, wentthrough the prescribed program with the utmost gravity. 

"Do you feel better now, Hippo?" said Snorky solemnly. 

"Yes, sir, but I'd like a little more time, sir. "

"Stand up, " said Skippy frowning. 

Hippo, unchastened, bounded to his feet and saluted. 

"And, Hippo, I'm afraid, " said Skippy relentlessly, "that you don'tappreciate what a mother's love means. Think how your mother has watchedover you all these years, think how she has scrubbed behind your ears, think of the hundreds and hundreds of toothbrushes--"

But at this, as Snorky gulped and barely converted a laugh into a sneezewith a hurried dive into the closet, Skippy abandoning his pedagogicalair said in a more natural tone:

"Well, Hippo, I shall want to talk with you very seriously on this someother time. Your manners are shocking and your morals worse, but I amhere. Don't worry. Meanwhile, ahem, you can bring your family in totea. "

"Thank you, kind sir. "

"Hippo, you are fresh. "

"But you _are_ kind, aren't you, sir?" said Hippo with assumedinnocence. 

"Get your hat and wait downstairs, " said Skippy deciding to abandon thelighter tone. 

"Yes, sir. "

"Hippo?"

"What, sir?"

"Don't forget. "

"What, sir?"

"The curtsey, you know. "

 * * * * *

A quarter of an hour later Skippy and Snorky with Hippo in tow startedacross the campus to show their protégé the historic spots, beginningwith Laloo's where the merry hot dogs whistled to one another insteaming cans, by way of Bill Appleby's where ginger-pop and root-beerwaited, to the Jigger Shop where the Jigger cooled and Conover's wherethe pancake sizzled. 

Opposite the Jigger Shop the celebrated Doc Macnooder, resplendent in avarsity sweater, was surveying the hungry Jigger-fed crowd and debatingwhether to go right up and pay for his sustenance or wait a littlelonger and see what might turn up. 

"Well, Skippy, been inventing anything new?" said Macnooder pleasantlyafter the introductions. 

"I say, Doc, I want to put it up to you, " said Skippy hastily, for hefeared any reference to bathtubs or mosquitoes might detract from therespect which was essential in Hippo. "I'm out for the scrub, you know, and what I wanted to ask you was do you think training ought to startnow or wait until school opens. "

Macnooder's mind scorned subtleties. It moved by the shortest cuts tothe practical issue. 

"Has he got the price?" he said looking at Hippo. 

"He has. "

"Let's eat. "

Macnooder looked appraisingly at Hippo, whom Nature had destined to playat center rush, to be mauled and cuffed and suffocated under scores ofscuffing, struggling bodies. A flicker of sympathy should have stirred, but it didn't. 

"You'll need quite a lot of stuff, " he said pensively. 

"Nothing doing, Doc, " said Skippy, winking hard at his protégé. "Hippo'sfitted out. "

"How about fountain-pens or crockery sets, or patent nail clippers?"

"I dote on fountain-pens, " began Hippo. 

"Hippo's under my protection, " said Skippy militantly. "We're sort ofrelated. "

"Oh well, let's eat then, " said Macnooder with a reluctant look. 

"Don't take anything from that fellow even if he gives it to you, " saidSkippy in a whisper to Hippo. "Elucidations later. "

Al had two attitudes of welcome, according to the record of the books, one in which the hand advanced impulsively and a smile broke from underthe shaggy yellow bang and another where the hand remained in astationary receptive cup, or sometimes caressed the limp ends of themustache in a way most discouraging and disheartening to the delinquentdebtor. When Doc Macnooder arrived, however, he paid him the furtherhonor to carefully close the glass cases where éclair and fruit cakewere waiting the call to service, and braced himself against thecounter. 

"Hello, Al, " said Skippy affably, "here we are again. Set 'em up fourtimes. "

"I see you and I see that there Doc Macnooder, " said Al in anunconvinced sort of way. 

"Set 'em up, " said Macnooder in an encouraging tone. 

"_Who's_ settin' 'em up?" said Al, resorting to his toothpick. 

Macnooder looked at Skippy, Skippy looked at Snorky, then all threelooked at Hippo. 

"The pleasure is mine, " said Hippo and with a purse-proud gesture heflicked on the counter a twenty dollar bill. 

Al was not easily shocked but for once his perfect manner left him. Heglanced at Hippo and then enviously at Macnooder. 

"I didn't know they picked them as early as that, " he saidenigmatically. "Doc, you'll be buying this place in a week. "

"I could buy it now, " said Macnooder frowning, "and Al, step to the backand have a little business talk with me. "

Al, having received payment and displayed the Jiggers, left for the backof the store to that secluded nook which had heard a hundredexplanations and supplications from the improvident and hungry. Skippy, who despite the new assurance of his public manner, was willing to learnat the feet of a master, Jigger in hand, moved into a position ofeavesdropping. 

"Nineteen dollars and seventy-two cents, " said Al, coming to the point. 

"Exactly what my little proposition comes to, " said Macnooder affably. "Tear it up, Al, you'll do it sooner or later so why not now?"

"What's the flim-flam?" said Al, who recognized in Macnooder qualitiesof a superior intelligence. 

"I don't like the word, " said Macnooder in a pained tone. "I've got anidea and you're going to buy it. Al, the Jigger Shop has had a cinch, amonopoly, a trust. You fixed prices and you've controlled the output. Now answer me, yes or no. Have you ever paid out one cent incommissions?"

"Get to the point. "

"I will. I have an idea, I might say a brilliant idea and when I say Ilike the idea better than any idea I can remember--you know me--I'mmodest, but Al, it's a wonder. You'll like it. No, change that line, youmay not like it but you'll respect it. Al, I'm going to let you in, giveyou the first chance. Conover would double the commission. Appleby wouldgo wild over it. But, Al, I'm giving _you_ the first chance. "

"Nineteen dollars and seventy-two cents, " said Al, making a motion toclose his ears. 

"Not a cent less, " said Macnooder firmly, who according to his manner, having produced the proper hypnotic effect, now came to the point. "Sitdown, Al, if you won't sit down--brace yourself. The idea's coming nowand the idea's loaded with dynamite. Suppose, I say suppose, it was inmy power to boycott you. "

"God Almighty couldn't do that, " said Al. 

"Not as you see it--you're right there, Al, shrewd and clever! Al, thereare ten freshmen in the Dickinson. Think hard now, the idea's growing. Ten freshmen. Suppose, --I only say suppose now that as a disciplinarymeasure we should decide that no freshman could enter the Jigger Shopsay--well let's be moderate--for the space of three months. We might letthem go to Conover's or Laloo's and then again--"

"Macnooder, " said Al explosively, "when they lead you to the gallowsI'll be sitting right up front if it cost every cent I have. "

"Al, you grieve me. "

"It's blackmail! It's extortion and blame it I believe you'd do it. "

"No, Al, it's not blackmail, it's not extortion. If I came to you andsaid out and out, flat, tear up that account of mine or I'll boycottyou--_that_, Al, that would be all you say. "

"My Gawd, Doc, why do you waste your time in this little place anyhow?"

"You see, Al, it's this way, " said Macnooder, smiling at the compliment, "I'm coming to you as Macnooder your attorney, that's one person, to usehis influence with Macnooder the financier, that's another person--I'm alobbyist, a paid lobbyist. "

"Nineteen dollars and seventy-two cents, " said Al in a fainter voice. 

"Al, I'm surprised and shocked. I thought your mind leaped at things. You don't see it yet. You're thinking in terms of ten freshmen--"

"Nineteen doll . . . "

"But suppose the Dickinson lays down the law, suppose the Kennedyfollows suit. You saw what that fellow flashed, a twenty dollaryellowback, a word to Skippy and the Kennedy would follow. Skippy, youunderstand, would have to be _protected_, you get that. Well, what wouldhappen? Every house in the school would follow suit. What does thatmean? Figure it out. It means one hundred freshmen multiplied by ninetydays multiplied by at least two Jiggers a fresh--per day--you know howfreshmen eat--"

But here, Skippy, terrified, tiptoed away. Macnooder aroused in him thelust for gold and he wished to retain a few simple ideals. He signaledSnorky and Hippo and escaped up the road to the home of the pancake. 

"Doc Macnooder is a wonder but he's not, well he's not quite the sort ofchap you want to associate with, Hippo. Understand?"

"I'm young but I'm not so green as all that, " said Hippo winking wisely. 

"In fact, Doc's a sponge and you made an awful break. "

"I did, what's that, sir?"

"You shouldn't have shown him that twenty dollar bill. He'll never letup so long as he remembers that. "

"Skippy's right, Hippo, " said Snorky. 

"What'll I do?"

"Leave it to us. We'll think out some way. "

After a good deal of thinking, they returned from a heavy performance atConover's, laden with a large creamcake, a half dozen éclairs, a box ofHuyler's and two pounds of Turkish paste, after placing an order fortinned meats, cheese, saltines and root-beer. 

"I say, this sort of removes the lurking danger, doesn't it?" saidHippo, searching in his pocket for the last half-dollar. 

"We'll store the grub in our rooms, " said Snorky solemnly, "and thenthere won't be any danger at all. "

"Oh, thank you, kind sir, " said the irrepressible Hippo, and only thesoothing presence of the layer cake against his breast kept Snorky froma mood of wrath. 

"If you've got to mother that little squirt, " said Snorky wrathfully, once they had returned to their room, "you'll have your hands full, that's all I wish to remark. A fresher, nervier little nuisance--"

"Nuisance is going to get a lot of mothering, " said Skippy with afar-off look in his eyes. "But remember, old dear, that's why we'rehere. That's why the faculty invites us to Lawrenceville. "

"Well, " said Snorky as he stowed away the purchases and arranged theéclairs on the tea-table, "if we can keep him away from Doc Macnooder, there's going to be a few compensations. "

"Nuisance will neither be affectionate nor familiar by this timeto-morrow, " said Skippy grinding his teeth. 

"Cheese it! Hide the towels--here they come!"

A knock and then the voice of Hippo in flippant familiarity:

"All right, Skippy, we're good looking. Open up. "

Skippy looked at Snorky and swallowed hard while his right arm workedconvulsively. 

"Come in, " he said with an effort. 

The door opened and Miss Potterman triumphantly entered his life. Mrs. Potterman was there and Hippo with his impertinent smirk but neitherSkippy nor Snorky saw anything else but that wonderful vision. Somethingunbelievable had suddenly stepped out of their favorite Gibson pictureand was advancing in a halo. Violets and daffodils began to sprout fromthe carpet and birds sang in the window frames. It was instantaneous andit was terrific. 

CHAPTER XXXIX

LOVE PLUS HIPPO

JUST as there are professional conversationalists and professionalsponges, Miss Potterman was a professional beauty. There was nothingaccidental or temporary about her. She was complete, perfect, and sheknew her loveliness. After five years' triumphant progress in societyshe was accustomed to the petrifying effect of her sudden presence on abeauty-worshipping sex. She did not walk as other mortals walk, butfloated in fragrantly and Skippy stood staring rock-still, as thoughHippo had flashed the head of Medusa. None of which by the way was loston the keenly observant Hippo. 

"I beg pardon, I'm Skippy, " he said shaking himself. 

"Mr. Bedelle, isn't it?" said Miss Potterman in the tones that angelsare supposed to employ. 

Skippy saw no one else. In another moment he was seated on thewindow-seat entranced, dazed and blissfully content with his fate, docile as the rabbit in the presence of the boa constrictor. 

"I'm so glad Corny is in your house, " said Miss Potterman with a smilein the irresistible eyes. "You will watch over him, won't you, Mr. Bedelle?"

"Will I? You bet I will!"

"You see he's my only brother and we didn't want him to go to boardingschool--not just yet. That is, mother and I. Dad insisted on it. I don'tthink he's always, well--quite appreciated Cornelius. "

"I understand, " said Skippy, averting his look. Even in the intoxicationof her presence he could appreciate Dad. 

"You see, Corny's different from other boys, Mr. Bedelle. He's more likea grown-up person. He has a wonderful mind and such an unusualpersonality. I don't want him to lose it all and be just like everyother boy. And some boys, I'm afraid, won't understand him just atfirst. You will look after him, protect him, won't you?"

"I'd promise _you_ anything, " said Skippy recklessly, which is theprivilege of sixteen in the presence of twenty-five. 

Miss Potterman smiled without surprise and laid her hand gently a momenton his arm in the deadliest of feminine gestures. 

"Corny's told me how kind you have been already. "

Skippy looked incredulous. 

"Indeed he has. Really he's quite fond of you already. "

"I say, Sis, " said Nuisance at this moment, "hasn't Skippy got awhang-dinger of a room?"

And he approached with the layer cake and the éclairs. 

"What a wonderful spread, " said Miss Potterman, "but really you havebeen too extravagant!"

Something in Skippy's sudden look decided Hippo to keep the secret, buthe revenged himself on the cake in a way that made his sister exclaim:

"Corny, where _are_ your manners?"

"'S all right. I'll buy another, " said Hippo, who then winked brazenlyat Skippy. 

"I'll murder him, I will, " said Skippy wrathfully to himself. "I'd stripthe hide off him, if it--if it weren't for--" Then he raised his eyesand beheld the reason why, smiling at him with perfect faith. 

"I'm afraid we've spoiled Corny just a little, " she said hesitating. 

"Oh, that's all right. "

"Is--is there much of that dreadful hazing?"

"Well, sometimes, " said Skippy, who always placed the proper value onhis services. 

"Oh dear, I've heard such dreadful things have happened, " said MissPotterman, thoroughly alarmed. 

"That's only when accidents happen. "

"Accidents!"

"Don't worry, Miss Potterman, " said Skippy with the manner of a GrandDuke. "Fellows do get rough sometimes, but I'll look after him. "

Miss Potterman again laid her hand on his arm. 

"Thank you. "

She stayed but half an hour. The door closed. The birds fled from thewindows and the daffodils retired under the carpet. 

"Whew!" said Snorky explosively. 

Skippy fell back on a chair and fanned himself. 

"What's the use?" he said disconsolately. 

"Women are our inferiors, " said Snorky wickedly. 

"What eyes!"

"Woman is like a harp--"

"Woman!" said Skippy rousing himself indignantly. "You don't call that awoman! That's Maude Adams and Lorna Doone and--and the Gibson Girlrolled into one!"

"Don't blame you, " said Snorky heavily. "It ain't right to let anythingas wonderful as that roam around loose. Skippy, it's all wrong. "

"You're right there. "

"Well, " said Snorky reflectively, "she turned up in time. We'd have hadNuisance ready for the undertaker by the morning. "

"My hands are tied, " said Skippy glumly. "I've promised. "

"Me too, but how are we going to stick it out?"

"Well, we'll have to treat Nuisance with moral influences, " said Skippythoughtfully. "It will be longer, longer and harder. "

They dined with Miss Potterman at the Inn and that and a walk about thecampus under the stars completed the devastation. Before it was overSkippy actually heard himself called "Jack, " had shaken hands on aneternal friendship, promised to write from time to time of Hippo'sprogress and needs, agreed to defend him from bodily injury and promisedto accompany him home for the short Thanksgiving recess. The final touchcame when Miss Potterman sought to press upon him a large bill in caseHippo should be perishing of thirst or hunger. 

Skippy put it away. It hurt to do so, it choked him, but he did it. 

"Not from you--I couldn't, " he said huskily. "I--well, I just couldn't. "

That night as he stood at his bureau and looked into the eyes of thepast, at Mimi and Dolly and Jennie and Vivi the hunter of scalps, hespoke. 

"Snorky?"

"What is it, old boy?"

"Ever go fishing?"

"You betcha. "

"Do you know the feeling after you've been dabbling with six-inch andfive-inch and four-inch trout all day, --and something about three feetlong weighing ten or twelve pounds grabs your hook? Do you get me?"

"Sure, I get you, " said Snorky gazing heavily out at the stars, "but ohgee, Skippy, why does she have to be Nuisance's sister?"

 * * * * *

Snorky's worst forebodings were realized. Nuisance earned his title ahundredfold within the week. Dennis de Brian de Boru Finnegan had beenfresh, was fresh and would freshen more, but Dennis was amusing andadded to the gayety of nations. Nuisance was what his name implied, simply intolerable. You stumbled over him and you bumped into him. Whenstate secrets were being discussed in whispers, Nuisance was alwayswithin earshot. He was the extra, the intruder, the tail to the kite. Hedid not actively offend against the traditions which govern freshmen inthe incubator period. He was too clever for that. He had submitted tothe mild hazing with a cheerfulness which robbed it of all its sting. Hehad climbed water towers and sung appropriate hymns. He had sat inwashbasins and gravely pulled imaginary miles against the toothpicksfurnished him as oars. He had submitted to the pi's as they came with afull recognition that the second and third men in the mounting heapwere extremely more uncomfortable than himself with a mattress for avis-à-vis. He was not insubordinate--he was just a nuisance. 

But if he kept skilfully within the letter of the law so far as the restof the house was concerned he was irrepressible once in the company ofSkippy. Nothing that Skippy could do could chill his affection or bringhim to a proper realization of the deference which should mark themanner of a freshman towards one of the lords of the earth. 

"Nuisance is like a wet muddy Newfoundland pup that wants to live inyour lap, " said Snorky at the end of the second week. 

"Some day, " said Skippy shaking his head, "my worse nature is going torise up and get the better of me. "

"I hope I see it!" said Snorky enthusiastically. 

"Of course I'll have to hold in until after Thanksgiving, " said Skippydisconsolately. 

"What? Oh, naturally. "

CHAPTER XL

REALITY MINUS HIPPO

THANKSGIVING over, Snorky confidently waited the explosion. 

"Skippy's going to the bad, " he said to Dennis de Brian de BoruFinnegan. "He's nervous, he's fidgety, he talks in his sleep. There's noliving with him. "

"Some day it'll come, " said Dennis cheerfully. "Some day there'll be abang-up, two by two procession, slow music, flowers omitted; and righton a nice green shutter will be stretched our Sister's darling boy. "

"Well, I'm getting tired of waiting. "

"Keep hoping, " said Dennis wisely. "Human nature is human nature. Say, look at that!"

Across the campus came Skippy, fists sunk in his pockets, hat-brim down, stalking rapidly, and at his heels the irrepressible Nuisance. 

"It's shocking, " said Snorky, "poor old Skippy!"

"That's what love means, " said Finnegan contemptuously. "Do you knowwhat he reminds me of? A poor lonely cur going down the road with a tincan tied to his tail. "

"Hello, Skippy, " said Snorky sadly. 

Skippy looked at them and grunted. 

At this moment Nuisance caught him by the arm. 

"Say, old chap, what are you going to do now?"

"Going to bed, damn it!" said Skippy and bolted within. 

 * * * * *

How could Snorky and Dennis that unworldly fledgling know what Skippysuffered? The forty-eight hours of the Thanksgiving vacation had beenlike a narcotic dream. He had been under the same roof with her, sat byher side in the darkened theatre and thrilled at the low sobby musicthat sent his imagination helter-skelter into dangerous pastures;received her confidences, gravely discussed with her the character andeligibility of older men, confided in turn his life's project to launchmosquito-proof socks on a world scale; received the full force of herlovely radiant gentlest of smiles; danced with her alone a whole hour inthe Potterman ballroom, suffocated with happiness; and for all of whichhad promised what? To wear Nuisance about his neck like a millstone, toprotect, cherish and guide him through the perils and temptations ofboarding-school as though--as though he were his own brother. AndNuisance knew! That was the worst of it, --Nuisance knew the thin tyrantskein by which he held him irrevocably linked! Christmas was yet to comeand for what Christmas might hold Skippy possessed his soul inpatience. 

Then the blow fell. A week later as Snorky Green was returning from thevillage he perceived Dennis de Brian de Boru in a state of excitementwaving a newspaper at him from the porch. 

"There must be another birth in the faculty, " thought Snorky, puzzled toascribe an adequate reason. Such events, be it mentioned, were usuallyattended by cuts and in the higher spheres with even a half holiday. 

Finnegan rushed forward, dove at his knees and spilled him on the groundjoyously. 

"Damn you, you mad Irishman, " said Snorky picking himself up anddisentangling himself from the newspaper. "What's hit you anyway?"

"It's come, hooray!"

"What's come?"

"Skippy's free!"

Snorky, further mystified, seized Finnegan and having sufficientlyshaken him demanded an explanation. 

"Eighth page, first column, ouch!" said Finnegan. 

Snorky opened it and read:

 MISS POTTERMAN TO MARRY HAROLD B. DRINKWATER

At this moment the door opened and Skippy came heavily out. 

"Have you seen it?" said Dennis breathlessly. 

"Seen what?"

"The paper!"

"What's in the paper?"

Dennis glanced at Snorky and solemnly handed over the fatalannouncement. All levity had disappeared. A man's sorrow after all mustbe sacred. 

Skippy read and suddenly put down the paper. Only two things came to hismind--wedding immediate and she had not even written him. 

At this most auspicious moment, Nuisance came gamboling around thehouse. 

"Hi, Skippy, old sport, what ye doin'?"

Dennis de Brian de Boru looked at Snorky and then simultaneously eachsat down and retired into an expectant audience. 

Nuisance frolicked enthusiastically up for his victim and then stopped. He had just caught Skippy's expression. He stopped and suddenly lookedat the ground. He _knew_!

Slowly, carefully, warily with his eyes on Skippy he began a strategicwithdrawal. Skippy moved stealthily forward, picking up his steps as arat terrier does. Nuisance slunk away, calculating the distance to thecorner of the house. Skippy increased the pace, drawing ominouslynearer. 

Then Finnegan's shrill voice cried:

"Sic him, Skippy!"

The next moment, Nuisance, panic-stricken, was scuttling for his life, with Skippy roaring at his heels. 

And just back of the lonely stretches of the Dickinson, Skippy fell uponhim. 

 * * * * *

That night Skippy, wise by disillusionment, confided his sorrows to adiary which began as follows:

"What I don't know about women, ain't worth knowing. Resolved; if anyloving is going to be done, they can do the loving. "

But that of course is still another story. . . . 

THE END

 * * * * *

Transcriber's Notes:

Obvious punctuation errors repaired. 

Page 63, "bandanna" changed to "bandana" to match remainder of text(green bandana handkerchief)

Page 89, "thoughfully" changed to "thoughtfully" (said Snorkythoughtfully)

Page 110, "revery" changed to "reverie" (in a dark reverie)

Page 123, "vis-a-vis" changed to "vis-à-vis" (vis-à-vis with ayoungster)

Page 124, "subleties" changed to "subtleties" (These subtletiesnaturally)

Page 162, "longue" changed to "lounge" (chaise-lounge of her)

Page 214, "customs" changed to "custom" (custom-made dress suit)

Page 245, "are't" changed to "aren't" (commandments, aren't they)

Page 251, "celler" changed to "cellar" (the salt cellar)

Page 293, "paticularly" changed to "particularly" (_particularly_ to be_very_)

Page 297"subleties" changed to "subtleties" (mind scorned subtleties)