CHAPTER VII
PAGING MR. BLASHINGTON
There were two more pennies awaiting him on the letter rack, eachenclosed in a business envelope. One envelope bore the inscription,"After Five Days Return to The Warne Gas and Electric Company, Warne,Mass.," and the other purported to have come from the "Stevens MachineCompany." But the handwriting was suspiciously the same on eachenvelope. Upstairs, Dick handed the two to Stanley and told aboutreceiving the previous three pennies. For a moment Stanley seemed aspuzzled as Dick. Then, however, a smile spread itself slowly over hisface and he chuckled.
"Anybody owe you any money?" he asked.
"Not that I know----" began Dick. Then comprehension dawned. "By Jove!You mean Blashington?"
"Of course. It's just the crazy sort of thing he'd do. He owed youtwelve and a half cents, didn't he? Well, he's paying his debt. Butwhere he manages to get hold of all these bum pennies is beyond me.There isn't one of the five, Dick, that you could pass on anyone but ablind man!"
"Well, it's putting him to a lot of trouble, I'll bet," said Dickgrimly. "If he can stand it I can. Funny, though, I didn't think ofhim. I thought yesterday it was Rusty Crozier. That's why I showed themto you last night. Crazy ape!"
"Hand me a scrap of paper and a pencil, Dick. Anything will do.Thanks." Stanley wrote a few lines, folded the paper many times andhanded it back. "Just for fun, Dick, when Blash has made his lastpayment, you read what I've written there," he directed.
"Gee, you're as bad as he is for silly jokes," grumbled Dick. But heopened the drawer in his desk and dropped the paper inside. "And thatreminds me that I ran across another crazy idiot this afternoon. Hisname's Halden. He wanted to punch me because I called him down forballing up a play in signal drill. Know him?"
"Sanford Halden?" Stanley nodded. "Know who he is, yes. He's a sort ofa nut. Goes in for everything and never lands. Used to think he was apole-vaulter. Then he tried the sprints and--well, I guess he's hada go at about everything. The only thing I ever heard of his doinghalf-way well is basket-ball. I believe he's fairly good at that.Usually gets fired, though, for scrapping. They call him Sandy. He's aFourth Class fellow."
"Is he? I thought he was probably Third. He must be older than he looksthen."
"I guess he's only seventeen," said Stanley. "He's smart at studies.He's one of the kind who always knows what he's going to be asked andalways has the answer. It's a gift, Dick." And Stanley sighed.
"He's going to have another gift," laughed Dick, "if he gets fresh withme! Talk about your stupids! He was the limit today. Had hold up thewhole squad while he was being taught the simplest play there is. Thenhe had the cheek to threaten to punch my nose! I hope they let me run asquad tomorrow and put him on it!"
"Calm yourself, Dickie. Halden's a joke. Don't let him bother you.Let's go to supper. Don't forget this is movie night."
Going to the movies was a regular Saturday night event at Parkinson andusually a good half of the school was to be found at one or the otherof the two small theatres in the village. Tonight, perhaps because ofthe heat, the stream that trickled across the campus to the head ofSchool Street as soon as supper was finished was smaller than usual,and Dick and Stanley, Blash and his room-mate, Sid Crocker, commentedon the fact as they started off.
"The trouble is," hazarded Sid, "they don't have the right sort ofpictures. Gee, they haven't shown Bill Hart since 'way last winter!"
"How do you know! They may have had a Hart picture while we've beenaway. What I kick about is this educational stuff. I suppose it doesn'tcost them much, but I'm dead tired of Niagara Falls from an airplaneand gathering rubber in Brazil--or wherever they do gather it--and allthat trash." Blash shook his head disgustedly. "Hope they'll have areal, corking-good serial this year. Nothing like a good serial to keepa fellow young and zippy."
"They give us too much society drool," said Stanley. "Pictures aboutLord Blitherington losing the old castle and his string of hunters andgoing to America and stumbling on a gold mine and going home again andswatting the villain and rescuing the heroine just as she's going tomarry the old guy with the mutton-chop whiskers. I wish they'd let hermarry him sometimes. Guess it would serve her right!"
"Well, they've got a pretty good bill at the Temple tonight," saidDick. "That Western picture looks great."
"Yes, but who's this guy that's in it?" demanded Sid suspiciously. "Whoever heard of him before?"
"Everyone but you, you old grouch," Blash assured him sweetly. "Come onor we'll have to stand up until the first picture's over."
Adams Street was quite a busy scene on a Saturday night, for the storeskept open and the residents of a half-dozen neighbouring hamlets camein to do the week's buying. While they were making their way throughthe leisurely throng Sid had a fleeting vision of Rusty Crozier, orthought he had. Stanley said it was quite likely, as Rusty was agreat movie "fan." Then they were part of the jam in the entranceof the Scenic Temple, and Blash, because of superior height, hadbeen commissioned to fight his way to the ticket window. Followeda scurry down a darkened aisle and the eventual discovery of threeseats together and one in the row behind. Blash volunteered for thesingle one and since it was directly behind the seat occupied by Dickthe latter subsequently shared with Stanley the benefit of Blash'sobservations and criticisms. A news weekly was on the screen when theyarrived, and Blash had little to say of the pictured events, butwhen Episode 17 of "The Face in the Moonlight" began he became mostvoluble. Stanley kept telling him to shut up, but Dick, who didn't findthe serial very enthralling, rather enjoyed Blash's absurdities. Acomedy followed and then came a Western melodrama with a hero who tookremarkable chances on horseback and a heroine who had a perfect passionfor getting into trouble. There were numerous picturesque cow-boysand Mexicans and a villain who, so Blash declared delightedly, wasthe "dead spit" of Mr. Hale, the instructor in physics. Just when thepicture was at its most absorbing stage the piano ceased abruptly andafter an instant of startling silence a voice was heard.
"Is Mr. Wallace Blashington in the house? Mr. Wallace Blashington iswanted at the telephone!"
The piano began again and the usher, a dimly seen figure down front,retreated up the aisle like a shadow. The three boys in front turned toBlash excitedly.
"What is it, Blash?" asked Sid.
"Better go see," counselled Stanley.
"Are you sure he said me?" whispered Blash. He sounded rather nervous.
"Of course he did! Beat it, you idiot! Come back if you can. Ask theman next you to hold your seat, Blash."
"We-ell--but I don't see----" muttered Blash. Then he got up, droppedhis cap, groped for it and found it and pushed his way past a longline of feet, stepping on most of them. At the back of the theatre anusher conducted him to the ticket booth and he picked up the telephonereceiver.
"Hello!" he said. "Hello! This is Blashington!"
"Hello! Is that you, Mr. Blashington?" asked a faint voice from whatseemed hundreds of miles away.
"Yes. Who is talking?"
"Mr. Wallace Blashington?"
"Yes! Who----"
"Of Parkinson School?"
"Yes! What--who----"
"Hold the line, please. Baltimore is calling."
Then followed silence. Blash wondered. He tried to think of someonehe knew in Baltimore, but couldn't. He felt decidedly nervous withoutany good reason that he knew of. Through the glass window he sawthe doorman watching him interestedly. Beside him the girl who soldtickets pretended deep absorption in a magazine and chewed her gumrhythmically, but Blash knew that she was finding the suspense almostas trying as he was. After what seemed to him many minutes a voice cameto him. It might have been a new voice, but it sounded to Blash muchlike that of the first speaker.
"That you, Wallace!"
"Yes! Who are you?"
"This is Uncle John."
"_Who?_"
"Uncle John, in Baltimore."
"Unc--Say, you've got the wrong party, I guess! Who do you want?"
"I
sn't this Wallace?"
"This is Wallace Blashington!" Blash was getting peevish. "I haven'tany Uncle John in Baltimore or anywhere else!" The ticket girlsniggered and Blash felt his face getting red. "I say I haven't----"
"Yes, Wallace? I can't hear you very well. I've just had word fromDick, Wallace, and----"
"Dick who? I say Dick _who_!" roared Blash.
"Yes, Wallace, I'm sure you do. Well, this is what he says. I'll readit to you. 'Tell Blash----' He calls you Blash. 'Tell Blash he needn'tbother----'"
"Needn't _what_?"
"Needn't bother! 'Tell Blash he needn't bother to send the other----'Are you there, Wallace? Did you get that?"
"Yes! But who is talking? What is--Look here, I don't understand----"
"Yes, Wallace, I'll speak more distinctly.--'Not to bother to send theother seven and a half cents!'"
"What cents? Say, look here! Who is Dick? Dick who? What----"
"Dick Bates," answered the ghostly voice.
Blash stared for an instant at the instrument. Then he said:"You--you----" in an oddly choked voice, banged the receiver back onthe hook and bolted through the door. He was aware that the ticket girlwas giggling and that the doorman eyed him amusedly as he hurried intothe theatre again and he wondered if they were parties to the hoax. Inthe darkness at the back of the house he paused and fanned himself withhis cap, and as he did so he chuckled.
"Not bad," he whispered to himself. "Not a-tall bad!"
Then he made his way down the aisle, located his seat after muchdifficulty and crawled back to it over many legs and feet. Threeconcerned faces turned sympathetically.
"No bad news, I hope?" said Stanley in an anxious whisper.
"Anything important?" asked Sid.
Dick looked but said nothing, and Blash, his lips close to Dick's ear,hissed threateningly: "One word from you, Bates! _Just one word!_"
Instead of speaking, however, Dick turned his face to the screen again,his shoulders shaking. Further along, where Sid sat, there was a faintchoking sound. Then Stanley said: "_Oh, boy!_" and fell up againstDick. Again that queer choking sound, then a gurgle, followed by amuffled explosion of laughter from Dick, and Stanley was on his feet,pushing Sid ahead of him, and Dick was following weakly on his heels,and a second after all three were plunging wildly up the darkened aisle.
"Ex-excuse me," muttered Blash. He clutched his cap and wormed hisway past a dozen exasperated, protesting members of the audience andpursued his friends. He found them in the lobby outside. Stanley wasleaning against the side of the entrance, Sid was draped over a largebrass rail, and Dick, midway, was regarding them from streaming eyes,one hand stretched vainly forth for support. The contagion of theirlaughter had involved doorman and ticket girl, while a small group ofloiterers beyond were grinning sympathetically. On this scene appearedBlash. Stanley saw him first and raised one arm and pointed in warning.Dick looked, gave forth a final gasp of laughter and fled on wobblinglegs. Sid and Stanley followed and Blash brought up the rear.
Down Adams Street in the direction of the railroad station went haresand hound, the hound gaining at every stride. Dick took to the streetearly in the race, the sidewalk being much too congested for easyprogress, and had hair-breadth escapes from cars and vehicles. To himthe station came into sight like a haven of refuge, and there he wasrun to earth in a dim corner of the waiting-room. When Stanley and Sidreached the scene, outdistanced by Blash, Dick was lying on a bench andBlash was sitting on him in triumph.
"Apologise!" panted Blash. "Say you're sorry!"
"I--I----" gurgled Dick.
"Say it, you lobster!"
"'Pologise!" grunted the under dog. "Sorry I--Oh, gee!" And, Blasharising from his prostrate form, Dick went off again into a paroxysm oflaughter, while Stanley and Sid sank weakly onto the bench and wipedtheir eyes.
"Who did you get to do it?" asked Blash a few minutes later when theywere making their way back to school. "Who was on the 'phone?"
"Rusty Crozier," chuckled Dick.
"Rusty! And I didn't recognise his voice! I guess, though, he put apebble under his tongue or something." Blash laughed. "Say, fellows,I'd have sworn he was a thousand miles away!"
"He--he stood away from the 'phone," Dick explained.
"Oh!" Blash was silent a moment. Then: "I suppose you two silly pupswere in on it," he accused.
"I was," acknowledged Stanley. "Dick and I hatched it up at supper. Siddidn't know until you'd gone out to the telephone. Rusty went to thetheatre first and found out what time the big picture was coming on. Wepassed him on Adams Street and I was afraid you'd see him and suspectsomething. But I guess you didn't."
"No, I didn't see him. Where did he telephone from, Stan?"
"The hotel, right across the street. He said he could watch you fromthere while he talked!"
"Wait till I get hold of him!" said Blash. Then he laughed again."Well, it was pretty cute, fellows. The joke was on me that time!"