The Turner Twins Part 14

It's his kicking ability that'll get him on if anything does."

"I see," said Laurie, thoughtfully. "Well, I'm mighty glad. To tell the truth, Hop, Ned hasn't had an awful lot of experience. He's had to bluff a good deal."

"I suspected something of the sort from seeing him work the first week or so. And then Kewpie said something that sort of lined up with the idea. Well, he's working hard and he's making good. Much obliged for these, Nod. I'll fetch them back in ten minutes."

When Kendrick had taken his departure Laurie stared thoughtfully for a minute into s.p.a.ce. Finally he shook his head and smiled. "Good old Ned!"

he murmured. "I'm sorry I ragged him so. Gee, I'll have to buckle down to my own job or he'll leave me at the post!"

After practice that afternoon, Laurie and Lee picked up George and Bob Starling at the tennis-courts, and, after changing into "cits," went around to the doctor's porch and joined a dozen other lads who were engaged in drinking Miss Tabitha's weak tea and eating her soul-satisfying layer-cake. After a half-hour of batting and fielding practice and a five-inning game between the first team and the scrubs, Laurie was in a most receptive mood as far as refreshments were concerned. Miss Tabitha made an ideal hostess, for she left conversation to the guests and occupied herself in seeing that cups and plates were kept filled. No one had yet discovered the number of helpings of cake that const.i.tuted Miss Tabitha's limit of hospitality, and there was a story of a junior so depressed by homesickness that he had absent-mindedly consumed six wedges of it and was being urged to a seventh when some inner voice uttered a saving warning. In spite of very healthy appet.i.tes, none of the quartette sought to compete with that record, but Laurie and George did allow themselves to be persuaded to third helpings, declining most politely until they feared to decline any more. Before they had finished, the doctor joined the group and made himself very agreeable, telling several funny stories that set every one laughing and caused a small junior-it was the cherub-faced youth who sat at Laurie's table in the dining-hall and whose career thus far had proved anything but that of a cherub-to swallow a mouthful of mocha cake the wrong way, with disastrous results. During the ensuing confusion the quartette took their departure. At the gate Bob Starling said:

"By the way, fellows, I spoke to Dad about that tennis-court, and he's written to the agent for permission. He says there won't be any trouble; and if there is, he'll agree to put the garden back the way we found it and erect a new arbor."

"What will it be?" asked George. "Sod or gravel?"

"Oh, gravel. You couldn't get a sod court in shape under a year, and I want to use it this fall. I'm going to look around to-morrow for some one to do the job. Know who does that sort of work here-Lee?"

"No, but I suppose you get a contractor; one of those fellows who build roads and stone walls and things."

"I'd ask at the court-house," said Laurie.

"At the court-oh, that's a punk one!" jeered Bob. "See you later, fellows!"

The game with Highland Academy was played across the river at Lookout, and most of the fellows went. In spite of Hop Kendrick's pessimistic prophecy, Hillman's took command of the situation in the first quarter and held it undisturbed to the final whistle. The contest was, if not extremely fast, well played by both teams, and the hosts refused to acknowledge defeat until the end. Captain Stevenson, at left tackle, was the bright, particular star of the day, with the redoubtable Pope a good second.

It was Joe Stevenson's capture of a fumbled ball in the first five minutes of play and his amazing run through the enemy ranks that produced the initial score. Pope kicked an easy goal after Slavin, right half, had plunged through for a touch-down. Later in the game, Pope had added three more points by a place-kick from the forty-two yards.

Highland twice reached the Blue's ten-yard line, the first time losing the ball on downs, and the next attempting a forward pa.s.s that went astray. Her one opportunity to score by a kick was wrecked by no other than Kewpie, who, having subst.i.tuted Holmes at the beginning of the second half, somehow shot his hundred and seventy pounds through the defense and met the pigskin with his nose. Kewpie presented a disreputable appearance for several days, but was given due honor.

Hillman's returned across the Hudson in the twilight of early October with exultant cheers and songs.

Ned watched that game from the subst.i.tutes' bench, just as he had watched the two preceding contests, but a newly awakened _esprit de corps_ forbade complaining. When Laurie sympathetically observed that he thought it was time Mulford gave Ned a chance in a real game, Ned responded with dignity, almost with severity, that he guessed the coach knew his business.

The first of the month-or, to be exact, the fourth-brought the twins their monthly allowances, and one of the first things Laurie did was to go to the little blue shop on Pine Street and pay his bill, which had reached its prescribed limit several days before. Ned went, too, although he didn't display much enthusiasm over the mission. Ned held that, having created a bill, it was all wrong deliberately to destroy it. To his mind, a bill was something to cherish and preserve. Laurie, however, pointed out that, since one was prohibited from further transactions at the Widow's, even on a cash basis, as long as one owed money there, it would be wise to cancel the debts. Ned recognized the wisdom of the statement and reluctantly parted with ninety-seven cents.

Since it was only a little after two o'clock, the shop was empty when the twins entered, and Polly and her mother were just finis.h.i.+ng their lunch in the back room. It was Polly who answered the tinkle of the bell and who, after some frowning and turning of pages in the account-book, canceled the indebtedness.

"Now," said Ned, "I guess I'll have a cream-cake. Want one, Laurie?"

Laurie did, in spite of the fact that it was less than an hour since dinner. Mrs. Deane appeared at the door, observed the proceeding, and smiled.

"I'm real glad to see you're still alive," she said to Ned. "I guess he must take very good care of you."

"Yes'm, I do," Laurie a.s.sured her gravely.

Ned laughed scornfully, or as scornfully as it was possible to laugh with his mouth full. "You shouldn't believe everything he tells you, Mrs. Deane. I have to look after him like a baby. Why, he wouldn't get down in time for breakfast if I didn't put most of his clothes on."

"That's no joke, either," retorted Laurie, "about you putting my clothes on. You're wearing one of my collars and my best socks right now, and-yes, sir, that's my blue tie!"

"Wait a bit, partner! Where'd you get that s.h.i.+rt you're wearing?"

"That's different," answered Laurie, with dignity. "Mine are all in the wash. Besides, it's an old one and you never wear it."

"I never get a chance to wear it!"

"It must be very convenient for you," said Mrs. Deane, smilingly, "to be able to wear each other's things. Polly, I guess there won't be any one else in for a while; maybe they'd like to see your garden."

Being a.s.sured that they would, Polly led the way through the back room, a pleasant, sunny apartment evidently combining the duties of kitchen and dining-room, and out to a little back porch shaded by morning-glories and nasturtiums that fairly ran riot over the green lattice. There was a braided rug on the floor and a small rocker and a tiny table on which were books and a magazine or two. The books were evidently Polly's school books, for they were held together by a strap.

The twins liked that garden. It wasn't very large, for when the peculiar Mr. Coventry had divided the estate he had placed the high board fence very close to the little frame dwelling; but perhaps its very smallness made it seem more attractive. Narrow beds encompa.s.sed it on three sides, and a gravel walk followed the beds. In the tiny square inside, a small rustic arbor, covered with climbing rose-vines, held a seat that, as was presently proved, accommodated three very comfortably.

But before they were allowed to sit down the boys had to be shown many things: the hollyhocks against the back fence, the flowering almond that had been brought all the way from the old home in New Jersey,-and had never quite made up its mind whether to die of homesickness or go on living,-the bed of lilies-of-the-valley that just _wouldn't_ keep out of the path and many other floral treasures. Nasturtiums and morning-glories and scarlet sage and crinkly-edged white and lavender petunias were still blossoming gaily, and there was even a cl.u.s.ter of white roses on the arbor, for, so far, no frost had come. The twins admired properly and Polly was all smiles, until suddenly she said, "O-oh!" and faced them reproachfully.

"You've just let me go on and be perfectly ridiculous!" she charged. "I don't think it's a bit nice of you!"

"Why, what-how do you mean?" stammered Ned.

"You have the most wonderful flowers in the world in California, and you know it!" she replied severely; "and you've let me show you these poor little things as if-as if they were anything at all in comparison! I forgot you came from California."

"Maybe we didn't tell you," offered Laurie. "Anyway, your flowers-"

"In California they have hedges of geraniums and roses climb right over the houses, and orange-trees and palms and everything," interrupted Polly, breathlessly. "Why, this garden must seem perfectly-perfectly _awful_ to you!"

"Don't you believe it!" denied Ned. "Flowers and things do grow bigger, I suppose, out our way; but they aren't a bit prettier, are they, Laurie?"

"Not so pretty," answered the other, earnestly. "Besides, _I_ never saw a geranium hedge in my life. Maybe they have them in some places, like Pasadena, but there isn't _one_ in Santa Lucia, honest. There isn't, is there, Ned?"

"_I_ never saw one. And palms aren't awfully pretty. They get sort of scraggly-looking sometimes. Honest, Polly, I never saw a garden any prettier and cuter than this is. Of course, some are bigger and-and more magnificent-"

"Who wants a magnificent garden?" demanded Laurie, scornfully. "What have you got in the box, Polly?"

Comforted, Polly smiled again. "That's Antoinette," she said. "Come and see."

Antoinette lived in a wooden box in the shelter of the porch, and had long ears and very blue eyes and a nose that twitched funnily when they approached. In short, Antoinette was a fluffy smoke-gray rabbit. "She has a dreadfully long pedigree," said Polly, as she took Antoinette out and snuggled her in her arms.

"Has she?" murmured Laurie. "I thought it looked rather short."

"A pedigree isn't a _tail_, you idiot," said Ned, scathingly. "She's awfully pretty, Polly. Will she bite?"

"Of course not! At least, not unless you look like a cabbage-leaf."

"I wouldn't take a chance," Laurie advised. "Any one who's as green as you are-"

"She _tries_ to eat 'most everything," said Polly, "but she likes cabbage and lettuce and carrots best."

"I wish I had a cabbage," muttered Laurie, searching his pockets; "or a carrot. You haven't a carrot with you, have you, Ned?"

"You're the silliest boys!" laughed Polly, returning Antoinette to her box. "Let's go and sit down a minute." And when they were on the seat under the arbor and she had smoothed her skirt and tucked a pair of rather soiled white canvas shoes from sight, she announced, "There! Now you can make up a verse about something!"