CHAPTER X
GRAY GOES INTO BUSINESS
The end of the fall term at Hillton is a busy time. The examinationsoccur then, and the award of scholarships is made on the last day ofschool. The less said about Wayne’s performance at the examinations thebetter for any good opinion the reader may entertain of that youth. Hestruggled through; let that suffice. The highest scholarship for theupper middle class, the Goodwin, went to “Charles Fitzgerald Breen,New York city,” and Paddy, blushing like a veritable junior, awkwardlybowed his thanks and received a salvo of most flattering applause. Doncame in for the Carmichael scholarship, the next in importance, andWayne cheered loudly, until kicked into silence by his chum. Dave’sname was not mentioned, but he declared cheerfully that Paddy’s successwas “glory enough for all,” and displayed neither disappointment norenvy. Wayne, you may be sure, expected no honors, and so was not oneof the many youths who took their way out of the school hall in deepdejection.
Wayne was to spend the winter vacation with Don at the latter’s homein Boston; Paddy’s holidays were to be observed in New York; and Dave,alone of the four, was to remain at school during the recess. Dave’sonly near relatives--for his father and mother were both dead--livedin California, and a visit to them was out of the question. Both Donand Paddy extended invitations, but Dave was shy of strange peopleand houses and preferred to eat his Christmas dinner in the academydining hall; and so one bright and cold morning he said good-by to histhree friends at the station, waved a golf club cheerfully after thereceding train, and loitered back to Hampton House, whistling bravelybut feeling very lonesome.
The winter vacation lasted two weeks, and Don and Wayne enjoyed everyinstant of it, and returned to Hillton when the new year was already aweek old, refreshed in body and mind, Don full of plans for the trackteam and a victory for the crimson, and Wayne with his head crowdedwith admirable resolutions regarding study. Acting upon the suggestionof the principal, he had paid several visits to Professor Durkee, whoserooms were on the first floor of Bradley Hall, and the result had beenmost encouraging. The professor of English was a lean and wrinkledlittle man, well past middle age, whose crabbed manner and sternenforcement of discipline had gained for him the dislike of many pupilsand the sobriquet of “Turkey.” He was a hard taskmaster but a justone, and many a boy could have told a tale of leniency and kindnessin which the little professor would have figured well. Wayne found himgoodness itself under his crusty exterior, and a most patient and lucidinstructor in the studies that bothered the boy most. And even afterWayne no longer needed the professor’s assistance he continued hisoccasional visits to the quiet study, and the two became firm friends.
Adhering to his resolves, Wayne spent more time at lessons, threateningto become, according to Paddy, a regular “grind.” Paddy professedto feel the wildest alarm over Wayne’s conduct, and suggested theinfirmary as a suitable residence for a while; but Wayne didn’t mind,and before long even Don was forced to acknowledge that his roommatewas exhibiting a most commendable studiousness. Alone in the study oneafternoon, before a comfortable fire, and doggedly struggling withGreek, Wayne was interrupted by the entrance of Carl Gray. Ever sincethe latter had accepted Wayne’s loan he had punctually appeared eachweek with the promised fifty-cent payment, and a certain intimacy hadsprung up between the two as a result of the visits. To-day he acceptedthe chair that Wayne shoved forward and put his wet shoes up to theblaze. But, contrary to custom, he did not at once bring forth his halfdollar, and his host thought he detected signs of embarrassment on theyounger boy’s countenance and in his manner. They talked for a fewminutes about school topics and the prospects for skating on the river.Then Gray edged uncomfortably forward in his chair and cleared histhroat.
“‘Wheels’ told me, that day you were in the office, Gordon, that whenyou have an explanation to make the best way is to go at it straight.”He paused and seemed to be looking for inspiration in the glowing fire.
“Hang it, Gray,” exclaimed Wayne, “I don’t know what you’re drivingat; but if you’re trying to tell me that you haven’t--that it isn’tconvenient for you to pay that old money to-day--why, cut it out! I’vetold you already that I don’t need it. How many more times do you wantme to tell you?”
“Well, that’s it,” responded Carl Gray, breathing easier and lookinggrateful for the assistance. “But I’d like to explain about it. When Ipromised to pay you fifty cents a week I wanted to do it and meant to,and I still want to. I shan’t forget the--the kindness----”
“Cut it,” warned the other.
“Well, but I couldn’t know that--the fact is, Gordon, that I didn’t getany allowance this week, and, what’s more, I don’t think I’ll get anynext week. My mother writes that she has had to spend a lot of moneyon--on something she hadn’t foreseen. And she says she knows I won’tmind very much, since I have probably got a little saved from what shehas sent before.” The boy paused and sighed. “I--I never told her, youknow.”
“Of course not,” said Wayne cheerfully. “But don’t bother about mylittle old fifty cents, Gray. Tell your mother that you have gobs ofmoney--just rolling in it; and if you don’t mind taking a loan----”
“No,” cried Gray sharply. “I’m not going to borrow any more money. Butit’s awfully good of you--indeed it is. I don’t need any money--much;at any rate, I’m not going to take any more from you. But I wanted totell you how it was, so that you’d understand that the reason I didn’tpay you anything this week was because I didn’t have it.”
“All right. Only don’t bother about it. Are you lower middle fellows inthe Anabasis?”
“Yes, the first book. But there is something else I wanted to--to askyou about, Gordon. You see you’re almost the only chap in the upperclasses that I know; in fact, I don’t know very many fellows, anyhow;and I thought that if you could help me you would.”
“Of course I will,” answered Wayne heartily. “What is it?”
“I want to earn some money. Not for myself exactly, but I’d like to payyou, and I’d like to send a little to my mother. I guess it would be alot easier for me to send her money than it is for her to send it tome. I was hoping I’d get a master’s scholarship, Gordon, but I supposethat affair of Porter’s bill spoiled that; it would have been awfullynice.”
“Yes, it would. But how can you earn any money, Gray?”
“I’m not sure, but I think I might make a little in this way. Do youplay golf?” Wayne shook his head. “Well, fellows that do play have togive about thirty cents for balls; they’re expensive little things, andafter they have been used a bit they’re likely to be dented and out ofshape. Then they need to be remolded. Of course, remolded balls arenever quite as good as new ones, but they’re all right for ordinary useand good enough for lots of the fellows here.”
Wayne had jumped up and now returned to the fireside with a handful ofdamaged golf balls, collected from various parts of the room.
“Are those the things?” he asked.
“Yes,” answered Gray. “I can remold those. I learned how last year.A fellow I know has loaned me his press and I have everything elsenecessary. I thought that perhaps you wouldn’t mind speaking to thefellows you know, just telling them that I’ll remold their old ballsfor ten cents apiece, and do it well. Then, if they had any for me Icould call and get them. Don’t you think that would be all right?”
“You bet,” said Wayne. “That’s a jolly good idea. I’ll get lots ofballs for you to fuss with. And you can take these along with you now.Let’s see--two, four, six, nine of ’em in all. They’ll do to practiceon.”
“But, I say, Gordon, they’re not yours, are they?”
“Mine? Great Jupiter, no! What would I be doing with the silly things?They’re Don Cunningham’s.”
“But will he want them remolded?” asked Gray doubtfully.
“Of course he will, when I explain it to him. Here, put ’em in yourpockets. And to-morrow, Gray, come around here about this time and I’lllet you know what can
be done. I think it’s a jolly good scheme, andthere are so many fellows here that play golf that we ought to be ableto find heaps of old balls. If we could get hold of, say, a hundred,that would mean ten dollars, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes, only it wouldn’t be all profit, you know. Gutta percha costsquite a bit and so does paint. But it would be a lot of money, just thesame; though if I could get fifty balls I’d be satisfied, Gordon.”
“Fifty? Pooh!” said Wayne. “We’ll get lots more than that. Just youwait and see.”
“You’re very good to help me; it will be a bother, I know; and you areso busy with your lessons, too.”
“Oh, I’ll find time between recitations, you know,” replied Wayne.“Come up about this time to-morrow. So long.”
“Good-by,” answered Gray, “and--and thanks awfully, Gordon.” Waynescowled.
“Say, Gray, I wish you weren’t so full of ‘thank you’s.’ You just tireme to death with them.” Gray smiled from the doorway.
“All right; I’ll try to remember. Good-by.” He closed the door behindhim, and Wayne turned back to his book. “I’ll bet Dave’s got a lot ofold golf balls,” he muttered as he found his place. “I’ll speak to himto-night if I see him.”
But Dave didn’t turn up that evening, and the next afternoon, as soonas the last recitation was over, Wayne took a pad of paper and a penciland started out to drum up trade. His first visit was to Hampton House,where he discovered both Dave and Paddy writing fast and furiously atthe table, an atmosphere of excitement about them. Paddy stopped longenough to explain what was up.
“We’re going to have a grand spectacular skating carnival on the rivernext Wednesday. All the fellows are going in for it. Wallace and Greeneand I are the committee, and----”
“What committee?” asked Wayne.
“Oh, just a committee, you know, to get up the programme and arrangefor the prizes and all that. We’re going to have a lot of races,handicap, novice, class, and a hurdle race. Say, will you enter thenovice?”
“I reckon so.--Are you going to try, Dave?”
“Yep,” answered Dave, looking up for a moment from his work. “I’m downfor everything.”
“But how do you know that there’ll be any ice by Wednesday, Paddy?”asked Wayne. Paddy nodded gleefully toward the front window.
“Look at the thermometer, my lad; it was only twenty above a minuteago, and it’s been going down steadily since noon. Oh, don’t you worryabout the ice. _That’s_ all right.”
“Well, just as you say, Paddy.--Dave, have you got any old golf balls?”
“Yep, somewhere. Why?”
“I want ’em.”
“Well, look about the place. There’s one or two in that mug overthere.” Wayne searched the mantel and what drawers he came across, andsoon had seven badly battered little globes before him. He shook hishead.
“Those aren’t nearly enough,” he muttered. He looked around and hiseyes lighted on Dave’s closet. The boys at the table were too busy toheed him as he opened the door and brought out a box containing eightbrand-new Silvertowns. At the hearth he laid his find down and pickedup the fire shovel. Placing one of the immaculate white balls on thehearth he proceeded to knock dents in it. It was hard work, but he atlast managed to disfigure six of the eight and was hammering at theseventh when a glancing blow sent the little ball whizzing into the airto the table where it landed with a bang under Dave’s nose.
“What in thunder?” he cried, staring at Wayne.
“Beg pardon, Dave,” said that youth, as he attacked the last ball withthe fire shovel.
“But what--what are you doing, you idiot?” shrieked Dave.
“Why, you see, I could only find seven old ones, Dave, and I had tohave lots more than that.” Then he explained about Carl Gray, and Paddyforgot the skating carnival, for laughing at Dave’s dismay at sight ofhis new balls. But the latter was soon won round to what Wayne calleda proper view of it, and consented to pay ten cents apiece to have thefifteen balls remolded, and Wayne took himself off with his pocketsbulging out as though each had the toothache. In the next hour he paidinnumerable calls on his acquaintances--he was surprised to find howmany he had--and at five o’clock returned to Bradley with a list whichran thus:
Cooper, 25 Masters, 3.
Benson, 36 Turner, doesn’t know how many.
Moore, 30 Masters, 6.
Duane, 8 Bradley, 2.
Harrington, Goodrich’s house, lots of balls.
Greene, 17 Warren, 10. Wants to know if you can mend a club; told him thought you could. Call at noon.
Bradford, 4 Turner, 6. Call after chapel.
There were as many more entries on the list, and Gray was delighted andfull of gratitude to Wayne. When he saw some of the fifteen balls thatWayne produced from his overcoat pockets he examined them curiously.
“These eight are awfully queer-looking balls,” he said. “Look as thoughthey’d been kicked about in a coal bin.”
“Oh, you can’t tell what Dave may have been doing with them,” Wayneanswered. “I dare say he’s been trying to burn them in the grate. Butdon’t you care; take ’em along and fix ’em up, and if they’re harder todo than the others, why, charge fifteen cents for them.”
“They won’t be,” said Gray, laughing. “There isn’t much wrong withthem, and a coat of paint will do for several. And I’ll take the listaround to-morrow and get the balls. I think I can fix that club ofGreene’s; perhaps I could find others to mend. Really, Gordon, I’mawfully much ob----”
“Get out of here!” shrieked Wayne savagely. Gray got out, but in thehall he stopped.
“O Gordon!” he shouted.
“What?”
“Thank you.”
Then he scuttled downstairs.