CHAPTER XV THE LISTS ARE POSTED

Back in Clarke, Dan and Gerald spread out their books on opposite sides of the table for an hour or more of study. Gerald was keeping his promise to Mr. McIntyre, and was really doing the best he was capable of at algebra. But it did seem as though Fate was against him, for, in order to do full justice to mathematics, he had to give less time to his other studies, with the result that his French had been suffering of late, and Mr. Von Groll had once or twice showed impatience. It seemed desperately hard to please everyone, thought Gerald.

Across the table Dan browsed through his morrow’s Latin, and then settled down to geometry. Now and then Gerald interrupted to ask assistance, and once Dan reached over for the younger boy’s book and puzzled out a line in C?sar’s Gallic War for him. Nine o’clock struck, and Gerald looked up from his book with a sigh, glanced hopefully at Dan, found that youth still absorbed, and, with another sigh, went back to[177] work. But ten minutes later Gerald pushed his book resolutely away, yawned, stretched, and spoke.

“I wish this universal disarmament they talk about nowadays had been a fact about 50 B. C.,” he said regretfully.

“Yes? Why?” asked Dan, looking up.

“There wouldn’t have been any Gallic War, and I wouldn’t have to read about it.”

“Well,” said Dan, “you’d better not let Collins hear you put the date of the Gallic War as 50.”

“Oh, well, it was around there somewhere,” answered Gerald indifferently. “What’s the good of being particular about the date of a thing that took place thousands of years ago? I never could remember dates, anyway. I guess I’m only sure about three.”

“And what are those?” asked Dan, closing his books and piling them in place.

“My birthday, the day they fired on Fort Sumter, and the date of the Third and Fourth Class baseball game.”

Dan laughed. “You want to be careful and not overtax that brain of yours, Gerald,” he said. Then: “That reminds me,” he said more seriously. “There’s going to be a good debate Saturday evening. Want to go along?”

[178]

“Yes, thanks, I’d like to very much.”

“Cambridge and Oxford take fellows from the Fourth Class in a week or two,” continued Dan. “Have you made up your mind which you want to join?”

“Cambridge,” answered Gerald promptly. “They both seem very nice, but you and Alf are both in Cambridge, and—and I think I’d rather go there—that is, if I can. Do you think I can?”

“That’s what I want to talk about,” replied Dan, pushing back his chair and clasping his hands behind his head. “You see, the Society holds a meeting—it’s a week from Friday—and takes up the names of the fellows in order. If a majority of the fellows there are in favor of the chap his name goes to the Admission Committee. That committee is made up of the President and two members from each of the three upper classes, that is, seven members in all. They pass finally on the candidates for admission, and a candidate has to get the whole seven votes to receive an invitation. Understand?”

“Yes,” answered Gerald anxiously.

“Well, we can get you past the meeting all right, Gerald, and we’re pretty certain of five of the seven on the Committee, but the other two, the Third Class members, are rather more difficult. Neither Alf nor I know them very well.[179] One is a chap named Hiltz and the other is this fellow Thompson.”

“I guess that queers me, then,” said Gerald mournfully.

“You think Thompson would vote against you?”

Gerald nodded. “I’m pretty sure he would.”

“But he said awhile ago, didn’t he, that you and he were quits?”

“Ye-es, but I don’t think he meant it. He doesn’t like me, I know.”

“Well,” said Dan hesitatingly, “Alf suggested—in fact, I think so, too, that you might sort of let him understand that you are ready to be friends. It won’t be necessary to say very much, I guess; you might just speak to him when you see him, and then, if you have the chance, get into conversation with him. It wouldn’t be hard.”

“I’d rather not get into either society than do that,” declared Gerald vehemently. “And—and I don’t believe you’d do it yourself, Dan!”

“Well, I don’t know,” said Dan hesitatingly. “Maybe you’re right. But I felt that I ought to let you know how things stand, so you can do as you like about—making up with Thompson. I guess this fellow Hiltz hasn’t anything against you, and so it’s up to Thompson. He can undoubtedly keep you out of the society if he wants[180] to, Gerald. But maybe he won’t; perhaps we’re crossing our bridge before we come to it.”

Gerald was silent for a moment. Dan could see that he was greatly disappointed. Finally:

“Well,” he said, “if I can’t get in, I can’t. But I was hoping—”

“Well, we’re not beaten yet,” said Dan cheerfully. “Besides, I wouldn’t be surprised if you got an invitation from Oxford. Of course, we Cambridge fellows pretend that our society is better than the other, but there isn’t any particular difference, you know. Oxford has some dandy fellows, and you and Tom get on pretty well together, and—”

“I shan’t join Oxford,” muttered Gerald. “If I can’t get into Cambridge I don’t want to join anything.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” said Dan soothingly. “You’d have just as good fun in Oxford, Gerald. And you know some of the fellows there now, and Tom can introduce you to lots more.”

But Gerald shook his head and refused to compromise, and all Dan’s arguments failed to shake his determination to stand or fall by Cambridge. Nothing more was said about currying favor with Thompson. After all, Dan scarcely approved of it himself; it savored too much of what, in school parlance, was known as “swiping.”

[181]

Perhaps it would have been just as well if Dan had not suggested it to Gerald at all, for the latter fearing in his pride that Thompson might think he was trying to ingratiate himself, went to quite the opposite extreme, and, whereas hitherto he had responded to Thompson’s careless, good-natured nods of greeting, he now refused to notice that youth at all! The first time this occurred Thompson thought nothing of it. The second time he scowled and confided to the fellow he was walking with that “that Pennimore kid was a stuck-up little chump.”

Meanwhile May came softly in and all Yardley was out of doors. The field and track team was preparing for another victory over Broadwood, golf enthusiasts were holding tournaments on the slightest provocation, and the baseball teams, almost a dozen of them in all, were disputing every foot of the field. Besides the Varsity nine, there were four Class teams, as many dormitory teams, and several “scrub” nines. Yardley would have seemed to a stranger to be baseball-mad that Spring.

The Varsity had a schedule of eleven games. Of these, four had been played by the end of the first week in May, and the Blue had three victories and one defeat to her credit. The defeat had come at the hands of Forest Hill School, and[182] it had been such a drubbing for Yardley that it quite took the fellows’ breath away. Fourteen to three was the score. Most of the enemy’s tallies had been made during a tragic three innings in which Reid, a substitute pitcher, had occupied the box. Reid had subsequently steadied down, but for three innings more Forest Hill had added an occasional run to her score, and when, at the beginning of the sixth, Colton had stepped in to the rescue the game was past recovery. One result of the game had been to greatly endanger Condit’s position at third base, and now Dan was holding down that bag quite as often as the Second Class boy. It was not, however, until the contest with St. John’s Academy, which took place on a Saturday toward the middle of May, that Dan found himself starting a game at third.

St. John always brought down a strong team, and Yardley always did her level best to win the contest, which was looked upon as being a test of the Yardley team’s ability. A week later St. John’s would meet Broadwood, and so it was possible to make a comparison between Blue and Green. Colton started the game in the box, it being planned to use him until the game was safely “on ice.” Then Reid or Kelsey was to replace him. As it happened, though, neither of the substitute twirlers got into the game, for St.[183] John’s proved to be a hard-hitting lot, and it was not until the last of the eighth inning that the Yardley supporters breathed easy. Then a lucky streak of batting, inaugurated by Captain Millener, and continued by Left-fielder Loring and Shortstop Durfee, added three runs to the Blue’s tally, and the scorebook showed the home team leading by two runs. But it wouldn’t do to take risks even then, and so Colton pitched the game out, managing to blank St. John’s in the half-inning that remained.

Dan played a good game at third, accepting three chances and making good each time. He had three assists and one put-out to his credit when the game was over, while his batting record, if not startling, was creditable for a first game. He made one hit, struck out twice, and reached first once on four balls and once on fielder’s choice. There was a good deal of luck mixed up with this showing, but Dan didn’t worry about that. Taken altogether, he had made good, and Payson as much as said so later in the gymnasium. And Dan was so elated that he actually forgot to yell when the cold water struck him in the shower!

On the following Monday the invitations came out from Cambridge and Oxford. The lists were posted in Oxford Hall at noon. Cambridge had[184] issued twenty-one invitations and Oxford twenty-six. Gerald Pennimore’s name was on the Oxford list, but not on the other. The expected had happened.