On Monday Cal mutinied. When the time came for football practice he was on his way through the park to West House. It was a dull, gloomy afternoon and the house was silent and lonesome. Resolutely he set his books out on the table and studied. It was hard work at first, but presently he got interested and long before the others returned he had prepared his lessons for the morrow. There was a general demand to know why he had not shown up at practice and Cal merely replied that he hadn’t felt like football today. “Well, I don’t envy you explaining to Brooksie tomorrow,” said Sandy with some severity. “But that’s your affair.”
Cal didn’t exactly envy himself that task, but to be able that evening to sit at ease and read a bully story about hunting and trapping in Canada while Ned and all the others had to[235] study almost made up for any trouble to come. It evidently didn’t occur to Ned that his roommate had studied in the afternoon and he shot many a puzzled look across the table but asked no questions. Affairs between them had by now progressed to a stage where they never spoke to each other unless a third person was present.
The notice board in School Building served as a sort of morning newspaper and few fellows went to class without pausing to read the messages scrawled there. The next morning Cal stopped as usual and found for the first time a message for him.
“Boland. Meet me after morning. Brooks.”
“I cal’late,” he mused as he tore the slip down and replaced the thumb-tack in the corner of the board, “that means trouble. But he can’t make me play football if I don’t want to!”
He awaited Brooks on the steps after school. The House captain came out with Will M’Crae, quarter-back on the House Team, but excused himself when he saw Cal.
“What was the matter yesterday, Boland?” he began with a frown. “Why didn’t you show up at practice?”
[236]
“I’ve decided not to play football,” answered Cal calmly.
Brooksie stared.
“You—you’ve what?” he demanded.
“I’ve decided not to play any more,” Cal repeated less assuredly.
“Oh, you have?” said the captain sarcastically. “Why?”
“Well, I don’t think I’m cut out for the game, for one thing. It’s pretty hard work, too.”
“Go ahead,” said Brooks, “you’re doing fine. What else?”
“I haven’t anything to wear.”
“They sell football togs in the village,” suggested the other with ominous calm.
“I can’t afford to get them.”
“You can’t? Why can’t you?”
“Because I haven’t the money.”
A couple of smaller boys had paused near-by and Brooks, seeing them, took Cal’s arm and drew him down the steps and a little way along the East House path.
“Look here, Boland, is that straight?” he asked. “Can’t you afford three or four dollars for football togs?”
“No, I can’t, Brooks. I oughtn’t to. I—we[237] ain’t got much money, you see.” Brooks observed him, frowning intently. At last he concluded that Cal was speaking the truth and not merely exaggerating his poverty in order to escape practice.
“That’s different,” he said. “You come with me.”
Wondering what was going to befall him now, Cal accompanied the other across the bridge and along the path to East House. He had never been there before. East House was newer than West and larger. It accommodated fourteen fellows to West House’s eight. On the square porch Cal paused but Brooks beckoned him in and led the way up the stairs and into a nicely furnished room on the second floor. There were lots of pictures on the walls, a good deal of comfortable mission furniture with leather upholstery, and several Oriental rugs on the hardwood floor. Altogether the room was a revelation to Cal of what a school study might be if the occupant possessed both money and good taste.
“Sit down, won’t you?” said Brooks, pushing a deep-seated chair forward. Cal seated himself, placed his cloth cap over one knee and smoothed it down there, feeling somewhat embarrassed[238] and ill at ease. Brooks went to a closet and in a moment was back with an armful of togs.
“Here you are,” he said, dumping the things in Cal’s lap. “Shirt, breeches and stockings. I haven’t any boots, but I guess you can use what you’ve got for awhile. These things aren’t new by any means, but I guess they’ll last the season out. You can get Mrs. Linn to patch that place in the jersey.”
“But—but I oughtn’t to take these,” stammered Cal.
“Yes, you ought. Now look here, Boland. I don’t want to be nasty, but honestly you haven’t any business to act like this. You’re a new boy, and I guess that explains it, though. At that, Boland, you’ve been here long enough to know things. Haven’t they told you that we don’t shirk duty here at Oak Park? I suppose it’s Sanderson that’s at fault; he’s a good deal of a duffer, to my mind. Tell him so if you want to. It’s a shame you West Housers haven’t got another chap for Leader over there.”
“Sandy’s all right,” said Cal with a scowl. Brooks smiled.
“Well, I’m glad you’ve got that far,” he[239] said. “At least you’ve learned to stand up for your House. But hasn’t Sandy told you that every fellow is expected to take hold and work for his House? That with us it’s House first, School next and self nowhere?”
“Ned Brent said something like that,” answered Cal.
“Yes, Ned would. Why don’t you do as Ned does, then? You want House to win, don’t you?”
“Of course,” answered Cal indignantly.
“Well, why don’t you help us then instead of sulking? What if football practice is hard? I know it well enough. I’ve been all through the—the drudgery, just as you are going. It isn’t any harder for us than it is for Hall, though. It isn’t any harder for you than it is for any other new boy. And after you’ve learned you’ll get a whole lot of pleasure out of it.”
“But it don’t seem to me,” muttered Cal, “that I ever can learn. I cal’late I’m no good at football.”
“That’s none of your business,” said Frank Brooks sharply. “That’s my look-out. If I didn’t think you could be useful to the team[240] do you suppose I’d waste my time on you for a minute?”
This hadn’t occurred to Cal and he digested it a moment. Then,
“You mean that you think I can learn to play the game?” he asked.
“I mean that I think you can be of use to the House Team. That’s enough. If you can be of use it’s your duty to work hard and forget yourself, Boland. Get that idea?”
“Yes.”
“All right.” Brooks observed him a moment. Then he smiled and thumped him on his back. “You’ll do, Boland. No more nonsense, though, if you please. See you this afternoon.”
Cal bundled the togs up.
“I’ll do what I can,” he said simply, “but—”
“But nothing,” laughed Brooks. “You do what you’re told to do as well as you know how and leave the ‘buts’ to me. Glad you came over, Boland. You’ll get on all right.”
“I don’t just like to take these things, though,” Cal objected.
“Piffle! They’re no use to me. Call it a[241] loan if you like. You can hand them back after the season’s through—if there’s anything left of them! Good bye.”
So ended Cal’............