The Turner Twins Part 16

"Attaboy!" approved Ned. "What are you going to do, Polly?"

"I'm learning stenography and typewriting, and Mr. Farmer, the lawyer,-he's the one who got the others to let Mother have the house when Uncle Peter's estate was settled,-says he will find a place for me in his office. He's awfully nice. Some stenographers make lots of money, don't they?"

"I guess so," Ned agreed. "There's a woman in Dad's office who gets eighteen dollars a week."

Polly clasped her hands delightedly. "Maybe I wouldn't get that much, though. I guess Mr. Farmer doesn't pay his stenographer very high wages.

Maybe I'd get twelve dollars, though. Don't you think I might?"

"Sure!" said Laurie. "Don't you let any one tell you any different.

Didn't folks think that your Uncle Peter left more money than was found, Polly?"

"Oh, yes; but no one really knew. The lawyers looked everywhere. If he did have any more, he must have hidden it away pretty well. They looked all through the house and dug holes in the cellar floor. It was very exciting. Mother thinks he lost what money he had speculating in stocks and things. He used to go to New York about four times a year. No one knew what he did there, not even Hilary; but Mother thinks he went to see men who deal in stocks and that they got his money away from him."

"Who is Hilary?" Laurie inquired.

"Hilary was a colored man that Uncle had had a long time. It seemed to me that if Uncle had had much money, Hilary would have known about it; and he didn't."

"Where is he now? Hilary, I mean," added Laurie, somewhat unnecessarily.

"I don't know. He went away a little while after Uncle Peter died. He said he was going to New York, I think."

"You don't suppose he took the money with him, do you? I mean-"

"Oh no!" Polly seemed quite horrified. "Hilary was just as honest as honest! Why, Uncle Peter died owing him almost forty dollars and Hilary never got a cent of it! The lawyers were too mean for anything!"

"There's a fellow named Starling living there now," Laurie said. "His father's rented the house for three years. Bob says that he's going to find the money and give it to your mother."

Polly laughed. "Oh, I wish that he would! But I guess if the lawyers couldn't find it he never will. Lawyers, they say, can find money when n.o.body else can! Is he nice?"

"Bob? Yes, he's a dandy chap. You ought to know him, Polly; he's your next-door neighbor."

"Back-door neighbor, you mean," interpolated Ned.

"I think I saw him in the garden one day," said Polly. "His father is an engineer, Mae Ferrand says, and he's building a big bridge for the railway. Or maybe it's a tunnel. I forget."

"Is Mae Something the girl with the mola.s.ses-candy hair you were with at the high school game?" Laurie asked.

"Yes, but her hair isn't like mola.s.ses candy. It's perfectly lovely hair. It's like-like diluted suns.h.i.+ne!"

Laurie whistled. "Gee! Did you get that, Neddie? Well, anyway, I like dark hair better."

"Oh, I don't! I'd love to have hair like Mae's. And, what do you think, she likes my hair better than her own!"

"Don't blame her," said Laurie. "What do you say, Ned?"

"I say I've got to beat it back and get into football togs. What time is it?"

"Look at your own watch, you lazy loafer. Well, come on. I say, Polly, would your mother let you go to the game with me Sat.u.r.day? That is, if you want to, of course."

"Oh, I'd love to! But-I'll ask her, anyway. And if she says I may, would you mind if Mae went too? We usually go together to the games."

"Not a bit. I'll be around again before Sat.u.r.day and see what she says."

"I wouldn't be surprised if she said yes," remarked Polly. "I think she must like you boys. Anyway, you're the first of the Hillman's boys she has ever let me invite out here."

"Really? Bully for her! Wait till I say farewell to Antoinette, 'most beauteous of rabbits!' What does she twitch her nose like that for?"

"I think she's asking for some cabbits," replied Polly, gravely.

"She's making faces at you, you chump," said Ned, rudely. "Come on."

They returned through the little living-room, empty save for a big black cat asleep in a rocking-chair, and found Mrs. Deane serving the first of the afternoon trade in the shop beyond. They said good afternoon to her very politely, and Polly went to the door with them. Outside on the walk, Ned nudged Laurie, and they paused side by side and gravely removed their caps.

"We give you thanks and say farewell, Miss Polly."

"The visit's been, indeed, most jolly!"

CHAPTER XI-NED SPEAKS OUT

There was a cut in the football squad that afternoon and more than a dozen candidates were retired, leaving twenty-eight players for the first and scrub teams. Ned survived, as, indeed, he expected to; for, while he knew his limitations, neither the coach nor the captain appeared to. Perhaps they were sometimes puzzled over flashes of inept.i.tude, or perhaps they put them down to temporary reversals of form; at least, Ned's talent was never seriously questioned by them. He had settled down as a regular half-back on the scrub eleven, although twice he had been called on in practice scrimmages to take Mason's place at left half on the first squad. He was too light to make much headway in bucking plays, and his inability to start quickly handicapped him frequently in running; but as a kicker he was dependable and had developed a quite remarkable accuracy at forward pa.s.sing. Against a light opponent or a slow one he could be counted on to play a fairly good game, although so far he had not been allowed the opportunity. With him on the scrub team was Hop Kendrick at quarter, and, for a time, Kewpie at center. But Kewpie had trained down at last to a hundred and sixty-five pounds and was handling his weight and bulk with a new snappiness, and a few days after Ned became a part of the scrub outfit Kewpie was elevated to the first team, and a much disgruntled Holmes took his place on the second.

With the defeat of Wagner School, Hillman's ended her preliminary season. In that contest, played at home, the Blue showed a new aggressiveness and much more speed; and, while she was able to score only one touch-down, and Pope failed miserably at goal, every one was well satisfied. Wagner had a strong team, and a victory over it was no small triumph. Hillman's line held splendidly under the battering-ram tactics of the adversary, and her backs were fast and s.h.i.+fty. On attack, the Blue failed to gain consistently; but in the third period, with a captured fumble on Wagner's thirty-three yards for encouragement, Pope got free for half the distance, and Slavin and Mason, alternating, worked the enemy's left side until the ball lay on the five-yard line.

Then a fake attack on Wagner's right, with Pope carrying the ball through on the left of center, brought the only score of the day. Kewpie proved himself that afternoon, for he was a veritable Rock of Gibraltar on defense and a hundred and sixty-five pounds of steel springs on attack. The Blue team was far from a perfect machine yet, but it seemed that Mulford had found his parts and that only a generous oiling was needed.

Laurie and George Watson escorted Polly and Mae Ferrand to the game, and, although aware of the covert grins and whispered witticisms of acquaintances, enjoyed themselves hugely. Mae proved to be a very jolly, wholesome sort of girl, and her knowledge of what may be termed "inside football" was stupendous and made both Laurie and George rather ashamed of their ignorance. Between the halves, Ned, arrayed in a trailing gray blanket, joined them and promptly became involved with Mae in a very technical argument that no one else could follow. From the fact that Ned retired with a rather dispirited expression when the teams came on again, Laurie surmised that the honors had gone to Mae.

The following Monday evening, while the enthusiasm produced by the victory over Wagner School was still undiminished, a second ma.s.s-meeting was held in the auditorium to devise means of replenis.h.i.+ng the football treasury: Three of the remaining five games were to be played away from Orstead, and in two cases the distance to be traveled was considerable and the expenses consequently large. As Joe Stevenson said, introducing the subject for discussion, if Hillman's charged admission to her home games, it would be possible to get through a season without asking for a.s.sistance from the student body. "But you fellows know that that isn't the school policy. We are allowed to sell tickets for the Farview game only, and, while we make about four hundred and fifty dollars as our share, that doesn't go very far against the season's outlay. We have to pay from seventy-five to a hundred and twenty-five dollars to every team that comes here to play us. When we go away we seldom make enough to pay our expenses. In the Highland game, because it cost us almost nothing for fares, we did. At the present moment we have a cash balance on hand of forty-three dollars, and our liabilities, including Mr. Mulford's salary for the remainder of the season, are about eight hundred dollars.

"The manager estimates that we'll have to incur added expenses for about a hundred and twenty dollars for Farview game tickets and new supplies.

In short, we shall have to pay out, before the season ends, about nine hundred dollars. Against that we have on hand forty-three dollars, and in prospect something like five hundred, leaving us about three hundred and fifty in the hole.

"There has been talk of cutting out the Lansing and Whittier games, but that wouldn't make enough difference. Besides, it would give us a black eye to cancel games as late as this. We might save perhaps seventy dollars if we did, but it would cost us ten times that in public estimation. As far as I can see, fellows, if we're going to have a football team, we've got to pay for it. We've asked permission to charge admission, even a nominal one, to all games, but the faculty is against it. And we have asked to have a regular a.s.sessment made against each student. To many of us that would seem the fairer and most satisfactory way of meeting the emergency. But the faculty doesn't like that any better than the other proposition. So I guess it's up to us, each and every one of us, to dig down and produce the coin.

"We need three hundred and fifty dollars at least. That means that every fellow in school must pony up four dollars, or, rather, that the average must be four dollars each. Some of you can't give so much, probably, and a few can give more. I'd like to hear from you, please. Don't be afraid to say what you think. We want to get together on this matter and thrash it out, if it takes until ten o'clock. Any one who has any suggestion to offer or anything to say will be heard. Come on, somebody!"

There were plenty of speakers: Dave Brewster, the baseball captain, Dan Whipple, senior cla.s.s president, Lew Cooper, upper middle cla.s.s president, Dave Murray, the manager of the team, Craig Jones, for the lower middlers, and many others, Some subscribed to the donation scheme, others opposed it. Cooper suggested an appeal to the school alumni.

Brewster pointed out that the effort would cost money and that the result would be uncertain and, in any case, slow. An increase in the price of tickets to the Farview game was discussed and the idea abandoned. An hour pa.s.sed and the meeting was getting nowhere. Some of the younger boys had already withdrawn. A tall, lantern-jawed youth had charged the football committee with extravagance, and Dave Murray had bitterly resented the allegation. Ned, who, with Laurie and Lee Murdock, was seated near the back of the hall, had shown signs of restiveness for some time and had been muttering to himself. Now, to the surprise of his companions, he jumped to his feet and demanded recognition:

"Mr. Chairman!"

"Mister-" Dan Whipple pointed a finger at Ned and nodded.

"Turner," prompted Kewpie from a front seat.

"Mr. Turner," encouraged the chairman.