CHAPTER VI--NED IS FIRM
Kewpie Proudtree obeyed the shouted invitation to enter Number 16 andappeared with a countenance as innocent as that of an infant. "Hello,fellows," he said cordially, dropping into a chair with indications ofexhaustion. "How do you like it as far as you've gone?"
Ned shifted in his seat at the study-table, choking back a groan, andfixed Kewpie with a baleful look. "Listen, Proudtree," he said sternly."I've got a bone to pick with you!"
"With me?" Kewpie stared in amazement. "What have I done?"
"You've got me into a fix, that's what you've done! Didn't you askme--us--last night not to let on to Stevenson that we--I--couldn't playfootball? Didn't you say it would be a favor to you? Didn't you say itwould be all right and--and everything?"
"Sure! What of it?"
"Why, you crazy galoot, you must have told him that I knew all about thegame! And you knew mighty well I didn't! Stevenson thinks I'm a wonder,and I don't know a touch-down from a--a forward kick!"
"Pass, not kick," corrected Kewpie, patiently. "Look here, Turner-- Say,are you Ned or Laurie? Blessed if I can tell!"
"Ned," replied that youth, with much dignity.
"Guess I'll have to call you Ned, then. Can't call you both Turner. Youunderstand. It was like this, Ned. You see, I want to stand in with JoeStevenson. It--it's for the good of the school. If they don't play me atcenter this fall, who are they going to play? Well, Joe thought I--well,he seemed to think I hadn't acted just right about keeping my weightdown. He--he was sort of peeved with me. So I wanted to smooth him downa bit. You understand. That's why I told him what I did."
"Well, what _did_ you tell him?"
"Why, I sort of--well, it wasn't what I _said_ exactly; it was what hethought I meant!"
"Proudtree, you're telling a whopper," said Ned, sternly. "And you toldone to Stevenson, too, or I miss my guess."
"I only said that you were a swell football-player."
"For the love of lemons! What do you call that but a whopper?"
Kewpie looked both ashamed and distressed. He swallowed hard and glancedfurtively at Laurie as though hoping for aid. But Laurie looked asunsympathetic as Ned. Kewpie sighed dolefully. "I--I suppose it was," heacknowledged. "I didn't think about that. I'm sorry, Ned, honest! Ididn't mean to tell what wasn't so. I just wanted to get Joe's mind offhis troubles. You understand."
"Well, you got me in a mess," grumbled Ned. "I got by all right to-day,I suppose, but what's going to happen to-morrow?"
Kewpie evidently didn't know, for he stared morosely at the floor for along minute. Finally, "I'll go to Joe and fess up if--if you say so," hegulped.
"I think you ought to," responded Ned.
"Where's the sense in that?" demanded Laurie. "What good would it do?Proudtree did fib, but he didn't mean to. I mean he didn't do it forharm. If he goes and tells Stevenson that he fibbed, Stevenson will haveit in for him harder than ever; and he will have it in for you, too,Ned. Maybe he will think it was a scheme that you and Proudtree hatchedtogether. That's a punk idea, I say. Best thing to do is prove thatProudtree didn't fib."
"How?" asked Ned.
"Why, Proudtree--"
"There's an awful lot of that 'Proudtree' stuff," complained thevisitor. "Would you mind calling me Kewpie?"
"All right. Well, Kewpie told Captain Stevenson that you are a swellplayer. Go ahead and be one."
"Huh, sounds easy the way you say it," scoffed Ned; "but how can I, whenI don't know anything about the silly game? I wish to goodness you'dtaken up football instead of me!"
"You got through to-day all right, didn't you?" asked Laurie. "Well,keep it up. Keep your eyes open and learn. You can do it. You're nofool, even if you haven't my intellect. Besides, you're the best littlefakir that ever came over the range."
"You can't fake kicking a football," said Ned, scathingly.
"Look here!" exclaimed Kewpie, his round face illumined by a great idea."Tell you what, Ned! I'll show you how to kick!"
The silence that greeted the offer might have offended a more sensitiveyouth, but Kewpie went on with enthusiasm. "Of course, I'm no wonder atit. I'm a little too short in the leg and, right now, I--I'm a bitheavy; but I used to kick and I know how it ought to be done. Say wehave a half-hour or so at it every morning for a while?"
"Wouldn't Stevenson know what was up?" asked Ned, dubiously.
"He needn't know. We'll go over to the lot behind the grammar school.Even if he saw us, he'd think we were having some fun."
"He must have a strange idea of fun," sighed Ned. "Still, if you want totake the trouble--"
"Glad to! Besides, I owe you something for--for getting you in wrong.And I can put you wise to a lot of little things about handling a ball.We could do some passing, for instance. Wonder who's got a ball we couldborrow. I'll find one somewhere. You understand. Now, what hour have yougot free in the morning?"
A comparison of schedules showed that on two mornings a week the boyscould meet at ten, and on two other mornings at ten-thirty. Theremaining days were not accommodating, however.
"Well, even four times a week will show results," said Kewpie,cheerfully. "This is Thursday. We'll have the first lesson Saturday atten."
"I hope they don't ask me to do any kicking before then," said Ned.
"Not likely. You'll get about the same stuff to-morrow as you hadto-day. You'll get by, take my word for it. That's settled, then."Kewpie referred to an ornate gold wrist-watch. "It's after eight. You'regoing over to Johnny's, aren't you!"
"Johnny's?" repeated Laurie. "Oh, Doctor Hillman's! I suppose so. What'sit like?"
"Oh, it isn't bad. The eats are pretty fair. Anyway, he sort of likesthe fellows to go, and he's a good sort. You'll be introduced to thefaculty and their wives, if they have any, and meet a lot of fellowswhose names you'll forget the next minute. Take my advice and sort ofwork in toward the dining-room. Last year, the harlequin ice-cream gaveout before I could get to the table." Kewpie sighed. "Tabby has bullycake, too, and I'm off of cake. Isn't that rotten luck?"
"Awful!" laughed Ned. "You going over now?"
"Yes. Come on and I'll introduce you to some of the fellows you ought toknow. I'll wash my dirty paws and meet you in two minutes."
The principal's reception proved rather enjoyable. The "eats" wereexcellent and, under Kewpie's guidance, the twins reached the long tablein the dining-room well in advance of the crowd. As Laurie remarkedafterward, it was worth the amount of trouble involved just to watchKewpie's mouth water as he gazed soulfully at the chocolate layer-cake.To his credit be it narrated that he manfully resisted it. Besidesconsuming much delectable food, the twins were impressively introducedby their guide to a number of their fellow-students, the introductionbeing prefaced in each case by a sort of biographical note, as: "There'sDan Whipple. The tall fellow with the trick collar, talking to Mrs.Wells. Rows stroke on the crew. Senior class president. Honor man lastyear. President of Attic, too. Good chap to know. Come on." In suchmanner they met at least a half-dozen school notables, most of whom wereextremely affable to the new boys. Sometimes, to be sure, the twins hada suspicion that Kewpie was pretending a closer intimacy with a notablethan in fact existed, but he always "got away with it."
The only fly in the ointment of the evening's enjoyment occurred whenKewpie mischievously introduced them to Mrs. Pennington, the wife of theGreek and Latin instructor, and sneaked away. Mrs. Pennington was talland extremely thin, and viewed the world through a pair oftortoise-shell spectacles. She had a high voice and what Ned termed a"very Lake Superior" manner, and, since she confined her conversation tothe benefits to be derived from an earnest study of the Latin poets,philosophers, and historians, the twins were not happy. Fortunately,very little was demanded from them conversationally, Mrs. Penningtonbeing quite competent to do all the talking. But, unfortunately, shegave them no chance to get away. Ned descried Kewpie grinningheartlessly from the doorway and rewarded him with a terrific andthreatening scowl. Kewpie, however, waved bl
andly and faded into thenight. Release came to them at last and they scurried away, neglecting,in their hurried departure, to say good night either to the doctor orMiss Tabitha, a breach of etiquette which probably passed unnoted by thehosts. Back in East Hall, the twins hammered loudly at Number 15, butKewpie was either absent or discreet. At any rate, there was noresponse, and revenge had to be postponed.
To Laurie's surprise, a notice on the bulletin-board in the corridor ofSchool Hall the following morning announced that autumn baseballpractice would begin that afternoon. He had supposed that his hour tooffer himself on the altar of school patriotism would not arrive untilthe next spring; and later, when he strode down Walnut Street with Ned,in search of football togs for the latter, he broached the subjectdiplomatically.
"Funny idea to have baseball practice this time of year, I think," heremarked carelessly. "Not much good in it. A fellow would forgetanything he learned by next April."
"Didn't know they did," replied Ned, uninterestedly. "Who told youthat?"
"Oh, there was a notice on the board in School Hall. Don't believe manyfellows go out in the fall."
"Thought baseball was a spring and summer game. Still, I dare say youcan play it just as well now. Seems to me I've heard of having springfootball practice, haven't you?"
"I dare say. Crazy scheme, though, playing games out of season."
"Ye-es." Ned went on thoughtfully a moment Then he shot a suspiciousglance at his brother. "You going out?" he demanded.
"N-no, I don't think so," answered Laurie, lightly. "There's thatbuilding we had the bet on the other day. We never did find out--"
"Never you mind about that building," interrupted Ned, severely. "I'm onto you, partner. You're trying to renege on baseball. Well, it doesn'tgo! You're a baseball hero and you've got to get busy!"
"Aw, Ned, have a heart! There's plenty of time--"
"No, sir, by jiminy! You got me slaving for the dear old school, now youdo your bit!"
"Yes, but it isn't fair to start the baseball season in September. Youknow it isn't."
"Cut out the alibis! You can get some baseball togs right now. Goodthing you spoke of it. What'll you need?"
"All I need is kindness," wailed Laurie. "Ned, I don't want to be ahero! I don't want to save the dear old school from defeat in the ninthinning! I--I--"
"You're going to do as you agreed to," answered Ned, grimly. "Rememberthat the honor of the Turners is at stake!"
Laurie sighed deeply. Then, "You speak of honor! Say no more. I yield,"he declaimed dramatically.
"You bet you do," answered Ned, unhesitatingly. "You for the baseballfield!"