The Turner Twins Part 13

I'd like you to meet my father and aunt. No one's at home just now. I say, better take a couple of umbrellas."

"Not worth it, thanks," answered Lee. "After that deluge, this is just an April shower. So long!"

Lee's statement wasn't much of an exaggeration, and the three continued their way to the school unhurriedly. George remarked gloomily that it didn't look awfully promising for tennis on the morrow, adding: "I'll bet that chap's a corking good player, too."

"Maybe you'll learn a little about the game from him," said Laurie, sweetly. "How old do you say he is?"

"Starling? Oh, seventeen, maybe. He's in upper middle."

"Sixteen, more likely," said George. "He seems a decent sort, eh? How did you come to know him?"

"I didn't really know him. He's in some of my cla.s.ses and we've spoken a couple of times. Rather a-an interesting kind of chap. Wonder what his father does here. Funny place for him to come to. He spoke of an aunt, but didn't say anything about a mother. Guess she's dead. Auntie probably keeps house for them."

As they entered the gate George chuckled and Laurie asked, "What's your trouble, Old-Timer!"

"I was just thinking what a joke it would be if Starling took that stuff seriously about the hidden money and began to hack away the woodwork and dig up the cellar floor!"

"Why, wasn't it true?"

"Sure! At least, as true as anything is that folks tell. You know, Nod, after being repeated a couple of hundred times a story sort of grows."

Lee grunted. "After some smart Aleck has written it up as an English comp. its own mother wouldn't know it! The real joke would be for Starling to wreck the woodwork and find the money!"

"No, that wouldn't be a joke," said George, "that would be a movie! Come on! It's starting again! Last man in East buys the sodas! Come on, Lee!"

Lee and Laurie ran a dead heat, and all the way to George's room, on the second floor, each sought to s.h.i.+ft to the other the responsibility of providing the soda-water for the trio. In the end, George appointed himself referee and halved the responsibility between them.

When, twenty minutes later, Laurie climbed onward to Number 16, he found a very disgruntled Ned curled up in the window-seat, which was now plentifully supplied with cus.h.i.+ons. "Where've you been all the afternoon?" he demanded aggrievedly.

"Many places," replied Laurie, cheerfully. "Why the grouch?"

"You'd have a grouch, I reckon, if you'd messed around with a soggy football for almost two hours in a cloud-burst!"

"Did you-er-get wet?"

"Oh, no, I didn't get wet! I carried an umbrella all the time, you silly toad! Or maybe you think they roofed the gridiron over for us?"

"Well, I got sort of water-logged myself, and don't you let any one tell you any different! Wait till I return this rain-coat and I'll tell you about it."

"I've got troubles enough of my own," grumbled Ned, as Laurie crossed the corridor.

Kewpie wasn't in when the borrowed garment was returned, but Hop Kendrick was, and Hop said it was quite all right, that Ned was welcome to anything of Kewpie's at any time, and please just stick it in the closet or somewhere. And Laurie thanked him gratefully and placed the rain-coat, which wasn't very wet now, where he had found it. And the incident would have ended then and there if it hadn't started in to rain cats and dogs again after supper and if Kewpie hadn't taken it into his head to pay a visit to a fellow in West Hall. Which is introductory to the fact that at eight o'clock that evening, while Ned and Laurie were conscientiously absorbed in preparing to-morrow's Latin, a large and irate youth appeared at the door of Number 16 with murder in his eyes and what appeared to be gore on his hands!

"That's a swell way to return a fellow's coat!" he accused.

He brandished one gory hand dramatically, and with the other exhumed from a pocket of the garment a moist and shapeless ma.s.s of brown paper and chocolate creams. "Look at this!" he exhorted. "It-it's all over me! The pocket's a regular glue-pot! Ugh!"

Laurie looked and his shoulders heaved.

"Oh, Kewpie!" he gurgled, contrition-or something-quite overmastering him. "I'm s-s-so s-s-sorry!"

Kewpie regarded him scathingly a moment, while syrupy globules detached themselves from the exhibit and ran along his wrist. Finally he exploded: "Sorry! Yes, you are!"

Whereupon the door closed behind him with an indignant crash, and Laurie, unable longer to contain his sorrow, dropped his head on his books and gave way to it unrestrainedly.

CHAPTER IX-LAURIE HEARS NEWS

October arrived with the first touch of cooler weather, and the football candidates, who had panted and perspired under summer conditions for a fortnight, took heart. Among these was Ned. Laurie, who at first had had to alternate sympathy and severity in order to keep his brother's courage to the sticking-point, now found that his encouragement was no longer needed. Ned was quite as much in earnest as any fellow who wore canvas. Probably he was not destined ever to become a mighty player, for he seemed to lack that quality which coaches, unable to describe, call football instinct. But he had made progress-surprising progress when it is considered that he had known virtually nothing of the game two weeks before.

Laurie, whose afternoons were still absorbed by baseball, viewed Ned's efforts as something of a joke, much to the latter's chagrin, and continued to do so until a chance conversation with Thurman Kendrick opened his eyes. Hop had come across one forenoon to borrow some notes and had tarried a moment to talk. In those days, when Hop talked he talked of just one subject, and that subject was football, and he introduced it to-day.

"We've got to do better to-morrow than we did last week," he said earnestly, "or we'll get licked hard. Cole's was fairly easy, but Highland is a tough customer. Our trouble so far has been slowness, and Highland's as fast as they make them. Somehow, Mulford doesn't seem able to get any pep into our bunch. The line isn't so bad, but the back field's like cold glue."

"That's up to the quarter, isn't it?" asked Laurie, anxious to prove himself not absolutely ignorant of the subject.

"Yes, partly; but it's up to the coach first. If the backs aren't used to working fast, the quarter can't make them. Frank Brattle's a good quarter, Nod. I sort of wish he wasn't so good!"

"Meaning you'd have a better chance of swiping his job?" smiled Laurie.

"Oh, I'll never do that; but if he wasn't so good I'd get in more often.

The best I can hope for this year is to get in for maybe a full period in the Farview game. Anyway, I'll get my letter, and maybe next year I'll land in the position. Frank's a senior, you know."

"Is he? I haven't seen much practice so far. Baseball keeps me pretty busy."

"How are you getting on?"

"Slow, I'm afraid. Anyway, you could easily tell Babe Ruth and me apart!"

"I guess you're doing better than you let on," said Hop. "If you're as good at baseball as your brother is at football, you'll do."

"I guess I am," laughed Laurie; "just about!"

"Well, Nid is surely coming fast," replied Hop, gravely. "He's been doing some nice work the last few days."

Laurie stared. "Say, what are you doing, Hop? Stringing me?" he demanded.

"Stringing you?" Hop looked puzzled. "Why, no. How do you mean?"

"About Ned. Do you mean that he's really playing football?"

"Why, of course I do. Didn't you know it?"

Laurie shook his head. "He's been telling me a lot of stuff, but I thought he was just talking, the way I've been, to sort of keep his courage up."

"Nonsense! Nid's doing mighty well. I don't know how much experience he's had; some ways he acts sort of green; but he's got Mason worried, I guess. If he had another fifteen pounds he'd make the team sure. As it is, I wouldn't be surprised to see him play a whole lot this fall. You see, he's a pretty good punter, Nod, and yesterday he blossomed out as a drop-kicker, too. Landed the ball over from about the thirty yards and from a hard angle. Mason doesn't do any kicking, and it's no bad thing to have a fellow in the back field who can help Pope out in a pinch.