The Winning Touchdown: A Story of College Football

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The Winning Touchdown: A Story of College Football Page 27

by Lester Chadwick


  CHAPTER XXVII

  THE DANCE CARD

  "You look all right, Sid; you'll pass!"

  "Hey! What's that?" and Sid Henderson swung around from the mirror overhis bureau, with a somewhat guilty flush on his face.

  "I said you'd do," repeated Tom, with a mischievous grin, as he stood inthe doorway of the room, having paused in the act of entering. "Whatwere you doing, putting on a beauty mark, or looking to see if youneeded a shave?"

  "I was trying to get my tie straight," growled Sid, as he fastened hislow cut vest, for he was in his evening clothes.

  "Get out, you musty old misogynist!" exploded Phil, following Tom intothe room. "We know what you were doing, all right. You wanted to see ifyou were good-looking enough, so that you could dance with Mabel all theevening."

  Sid looked around for something to throw at his tormenting roommates,but nothing was handy. Besides, he might crack the stiff bosom of hisshirt, the snowy expanse of which reflected back the glow of theincandescent light.

  "If you fellows are going to the racket, it's about time you togged up,"went on Sid, as he carefully took a seat in a chair. He did not sinkluxuriously onto the sofa this time, for fear of "mussing himself up,"as Holly Cross would have said.

  "Oh, we'll be ready in jig time!" cried Phil, throwing his coat on onechair, his vest on another, and, almost before the garments had landedin "artistic confusion," he was changing his shoes.

  "We went to a football meeting," explained Tom, as he shed his ordinaryraiment and proceeded to "tog up."

  "Anything doing?" asked Sid, as he manicured his nails.

  "Oh, for the love of tripe! Look at him!" cried Phil, with his headhalf way through a clean shirt. "Say, you'd think he was going to acoming-out party, instead of to a Fairview frat. dance. Oh, Tom, is myback hair on straight?" and Phil, who had uttered the last in a shrillfalsetto voice, tried to look at the after-portion of his shock offootball hair.

  "Say, when you fellows know how to act like gentlemen instead of like abunch of rough-necks, I'll talk to you," spoke Sid, with dignity. "Iasked you a question, Tom."

  "Oh, yes, about the football meeting," went on the end. "Well, youneedn't get on your ear just because we jollied you a little. Stand thegaff like a man. No, there wasn't much doing. We talked over some newplays. Incidentally we tried to explain the slump Randall seems to be upagainst, but we couldn't. Where were you?"

  "Don't ask him. He was up here fussing worse than a girl," broke inPhil. "Hannibal's henpecked hyperbolas! But do you remember the time,Tom, when we couldn't get Sid to look at a girl, much less to take oneto a dance? Now he feels hurt if he doesn't do the Cubanola Glide withone at least once a week. Vanity, thy name is Sid Henderson!"

  "Oh, cheese it, for cats' sake!" begged Sid, in despair. Then Phil, whoseemed to take delight in "rigging" his chum, glanced at the batteredold alarm clock, which was again on duty.

  "Caesar's grandmother!" cried the quarter-back. "I'll be late," andforthwith he began to make motions "like a fellow dressing in a hurry,"as he said afterward, and Sid was left in peace to complete hisimmaculate attire, while Tom, too, seeing the need of haste, left off"badgering" Sid.

  It was the occasion of one of the several dances that the girls ofFairview Institute had arranged, and to which they were allowed to asktheir friends. Of course, Miss Philock, the preceptress, was chiefchaperone, and there were other elderly teachers who took part.

  Tom, Phil and Sid, together with a number of other students fromRandall, had been invited, and this was the evening when "event numbersix, in the free-for-all-catch-as-catch-can style of dancing would bepulled off," as Holly Cross remarked, when he was preparing for it. Itwas about a week after Dr. Churchill had so taken the wind out of thesails of Dutch Housenlager in the physics class, and in the meanwhilelife at the college had gone on much as usual.

  The affair took place in the Fairview gymnasium, which was appropriatelydecorated for the purpose. Tom and his three chums--for Frank Simpsonwent with them--had called for Miss Tyler and her friends, Ruth andMabel. Frank was to escort a new girl, Miss Helen Warden, to the dance.

  "You're a little late," chided Ruth, as she greeted her brother and theothers.

  "It was Sid's fault," asserted Phil, with a wink at Tom. "He _would_insist on changing his togs at the last minute."

  "And the hairdresser disappointed him, and he had to curl it himself,"put in Tom.

  "You--you----" spluttered Sid, and then he choked back his justifiablewrath.

  "Don't mind them," sympathized Mabel Harrison. "We know some secrets aswell as they, Sid."

  "Oh, I'll get back at 'em some time," predicted the stocky half-back.

  There was quite a throng at the dance when our friends arrived, andshortly after the girls came from the dressing rooms, the orchestrabegan a dreamy waltz. The lads led out their partners, and the gymnasiumpresented a brilliant and animated scene.

  "Did you see him?" called Tom to Phil, as the two young men and theirpretty partners swung near each other in the middle of the big waxedfloor.

  "Who?" asked Phil, slowing up.

  "Langridge," was the reply, and then they were too far apart for moreconversation.

  "Oh, dear, did _he_ come?" asked Ruth of Tom, and she seemed distressed."I do hope he and Phil----"

  "No danger," interrupted Tom. "We'll keep clear of him. What girl hashe?"

  "I can't imagine. I'll look when I see him dancing with her."

  Tom pointed out his former enemy, as he swung his partner around again,and Ruth exclaimed:

  "Oh, she's that new girl! Miss Rossmore is her name. I guess she doesn'tknow Mr. Langridge--very well."

  "Probably not," agreed Tom, and then the dance came to an end in a crashof melody. There was applause for an encore, and once more the strainswere taken up, and the youths and maidens were treading the misty mazesof the waltz.

  The custom prevailed at these fraternal society affairs of the ladstaking their partners' dance programmes and filling the cards for them.This was usually done in advance, and insured a girl plenty of dancerswith partners of whom her escort approved. For he would only put down,or allow their owners to, the names of his own friends. It was a sort of"clearing-house" of dances, and the lads lobbied among themselves, and"split" numbers with each other at their own sweet will, in order to"fill in."

  "I've got to get one more partner for you," remarked Tom, when thesecond half of the waltz had come to an end. "I'll be back in a moment,"and leading Ruth over to where her friends were seated, Tom scurried offtoward some of his chums, in order to impress one of them into servicefor his fair partner. There was one vacant waltz on her card, and Tomhimself had been booked for that number with Miss Tyler.

  "I want one for Miss Clinton," called the pitcher, as he slid into thegroup of his chums.

  "Put me down!" exclaimed Jerry Jackson eagerly. "She's one of the bestwaltzers here. Put me down, Tom."

  "All right," and Tom reached in his pocket for the card. It was notthere, and a puzzled look came over his face. "Jove, I must have lostit!" he exclaimed blankly, as he looked back over the route he hadtaken. As he did so he saw Garvey Gerhart approaching, holding out oneof the dance orders.

  "I think you dropped this," murmured the crony of Langridge. "I justpicked it up."

  "Thanks--very much," exclaimed Tom, in relief, and taking the card, hehad the Jersey twin scribble his name on the only vacant line.

  "I put our friend Jerry down for you," he explained to Ruth, as hejoined her.

  "Thanks," she murmured. "Oh, there's that lovely two-step. I can't dancethat enough!" and her little foot tapped the floor impatiently. Tom ledher out as the music welled forth.

  All too soon it was nearing the end of the little affair, for, though itwas not late, the rules of Fairview forbade any extended festivities.Tom, who had been dancing with Miss Harrison, was walking over to claimRuth for the next number, when he saw Langridge stepping toward her.

  "Confound him!" thought Tom, an
angry flush mounting to his face, "is hegoing to speak to her again?"

  Such was evidently the intention of the former Randall bully. He wassmiling at Phil's sister, who at first did not notice him. Langridge andTom reached her at about the same time, and what was our hero's surpriseto hear his enemy say:

  "I believe this is our dance, Miss Clinton?"

  She turned in astonishment, a wave of color surging into her fair face.

  "Our dance--yours----" she stammered.

  "I have your name down on my card," went on Langridge calmly, "and Ibelieve if you will look at yours that you will find mine on it."

  Hastily Ruth caught up her dance order, which dangled from her fan. Asshe scanned the names, the color of her face deepened.

  "Why--why--it--it _is_ here," she murmured. "I did not know--Tom, didyou----"

  "Most certainly _not_!" declared Tom, as emphatically as he couldwithout attracting too much attention. "I think you are mistaken, Mr.Langridge," he added stiffly. "I booked no dance for Miss Clinton withyou."

  "Perhaps you had better look at the card," replied the bully,sneeringly.

  Tom gave it a hasty glance. There was no doubt of it. There, in boldwriting, on a line where he was sure he had scribbled his own name,was that of Langridge. It was the last dance but two, and Tom had thelast one. He was also sure he had this one, and yet the name of hisenemy----

  "There must be some mistake," he said, in confusion, for sometimesmistakes would occur in the indiscriminate trading of cards amongfriends. "But I'm sure I never gave you that card to fill out, Mr.Langridge."

  The bully shrugged his shoulders.

  "I don't know that you figure in this at all," he said, with a sneeringair. "I have this dance with Miss Clinton. May I have the honor?" and hebowed gracefully to the confused girl, and held out his arm.

  "I--I don't----" she began, in distress.

  "This is not your dance," declared Tom, glaring at Langridge, reachingout his hand toward his own partner.

  The rivals faced each other. Rivals again, though on a different fieldthan the baseball diamond. An angry light gleamed in Tom's eyes--on theface of Langridge there was a supercilious sneer. They stood thus, atone side of the ballroom floor. The music was playing softly, and somewere dancing, but the impending scene between Tom and Langridge wasattracting attention.

  Ruth realized it, and was very much distressed. Tom was determinednot to give way, but he realized that to make further claim againstLangridge would have the effect of causing a most unpleasant affair. Hefelt that there was something wrong somewhere.

  It was Frank Simpson who saved the day. The big Californian had seen ata distance what took place, and had guessed what was going on. Also hehad overheard a little of the conversation, and he was able to fill inthe rest.

  He sauntered slowly up to the trio, and, with an air of good fellowship,which he assumed for the occasion, he clapped Langridge lightly on theback.

  "Hello, old man!" he exclaimed. "We'll meet soon on the gridiron, Ihope."

  "Yes," answered Langridge stiffly, turning aside. "Miss Clinton, willyou----" He paused suggestively.

  "No!" whispered Tom. "Your name never got on her card right."

  "Take care!" almost hissed Langridge.

  "No, it is you who must take care!" broke in Simpson, leaning forward asif he was talking on ordinary topics to the three. The crowd saw, andtaking the very view of the little gathering that the big Californianwished them to, they turned aside. "It is _you_ who must take care, Mr.Langridge," went on Frank. "I saw you write your name on Miss Clinton'scard."

  "What!" The bully's eyes blazed.

  "Easy now," cautioned Simpson, in calm tones. "Tom, you dropped yourpartner's card a while ago, didn't you?"

  "Yes!" The end was beginning to understand now.

  "I happened to be standing behind a pillar," went on Frank, "when I sawLangridge pick it up. I saw him erase a name and substitute another, butI thought nothing of it at the time, as lots of the fellows had girls'cards, filling them out. Then I saw Mr. Langridge hand the dance orderto a friend of his, who started toward you with it, Tom, just as youdiscovered your loss."

  "Gerhart--he handed it to me!" gasped Tom. "I see now! Langridge,you----"

  "He tried to play a sneaking trick, and was caught at it!" broke inSimpson. "Now, Mr. Langridge, I'd advise you to leave this dance!" andthe voice of the big Californian grew stern as he looked full into theeyes of Langridge.

  Without a word, but with a glance of hate at Tom, the bully swung aroundand crossed the room, threading his way amid the dancers.

  "Thanks, old man!" exclaimed Tom, fervently, to Frank. "You saveus--saved Miss Clinton--an unpleasant time."

  "Indeed you did," spoke Ruth, holding out her little hand. "I don't knowhow I can repay you. I did not look at my card when Tom handed it backto me, but when I saw--saw that name there, I--I knew I had never lethim put it down."

  "Here!" exclaimed Tom, taking the order. He scratched out the offendingname. "It's gone now," he added, with a laugh.

  "I am in your debt, Mr. Simpson," went on Ruth.

  "Then repay me sometime by saving a dance for me," spoke the lad fromthe Golden West, as he bowed and moved away.

  "I think this is our dance--_now_!" spoke Tom, with a smile.

  "Oh--Tom!" exclaimed the girl, "I--I think I'd rather sit it out."

 

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