CHAPTER VI
AFTERMATH
The outcome of the game for several days cast a deep gloom over theschool. No one apparently had seen Chapin’s dastardly play, so that thecause of the defeat was very generally ascribed to Tony’s fumbling. TheBoxford boys had driven off in great glee, Deal joining good-spiritedlyin their cheers; but the bells remained silent; the bon-fires werenot lighted, and the school settled down to a doleful Saturday night.Little groups of boys gathered here and there after supper, anddiscussed the incidents of the day. Sandy Maclaren and Stenton wereuniversally blamed for having risked the experiment of playing a greenboy in a big game, but with boys’ native generosity they showed noanimosity toward Deering. He had lost the game—the consciousness ofthat, they realized, was bitter enough punishment for him. Even his ownform mates thought it natural that he should prefer to keep to himselfthat evening, and showed little sympathy for Jimmie Lawrence’s anxietyon his behalf. Jimmie had tried again and again to get into Tony’sroom, but could get no response to his repeated knockings.
Had he known all that was going on in Tony’s mind and heart, he wouldhave understood. For shut in his bedroom, flat upon his face on thebed, Deering was struggling with the keenest temptation he had everfaced. He realized acutely the opprobrium, the unjust opprobrium, thathe would meet with, perhaps not crediting his schoolmates for as muchgenerosity as they had; and though he would not have feared to face theboys had the fault been his own, he could not trust himself yet to meetthem, see their disappointment in him, receive their tolerant sympathy,when he knew that a word from him might free himself from ignominy andcast the blame where it belonged. And as he lay there, great waves ofhate for Chapin swept over him. He clenched his fists and drove theminto the pillows, longing that his fingers were about Chapin’s throatand that he might choke out of him a confession of his dastardlybetrayal. To his overwrought mind his future in the school looked darkand unattractive. The two months that he had spent there had been sobright and happy; he had made such warm friends and won for himself, itseemed, such a promising place in the regard of the school; and now,he felt, all must change, and his fool’s paradise go tumbling down. Tohave been given his chance, and failed through the willful meanness ofanother, and failing, to have cost his school the victory! For a momenthe felt that he would pack his trunk, go down and tell Stenton thetruth, and then take the first train out of Monday Port and leave theschool to settle the wrangle how it would.
And then he remembered his grandfather’s parting words, as the oldgeneral had stood in the portico of the white-pillar’d house on thefar-away bayou, “Never repay a meanness by a meanness, my boy; and youwill make a good sort of Christian.” And now, would not telling, truththough it were, be repaying a meanness by a meanness? Yes; but with theacknowledgment, wrung from his conscience, he burst into tears, tearsof helpless disappointment and chagrin. Telling on another, especiallyin his own defense, Tony had always instinctively felt the mostexquisite form of meanness.
After a time he slipped from the bed, and fell on his knees by thebedside, obeying an unconscious need, in response to the suggestion ofan unbroken habit of putting his boyish trust in an unseen power thatknew and understood. “Oh, God,” he cried, “don’t let me be mean.” Andafter a time, though as a matter of fact he prayed very little morewhile he knelt there, he rose up, removed his soiled football clothes,washed and dressed, and slipped out quietly upon the campus. He avoidedmeeting the wandering boys, took himself to the beach, and with windwhistling and waves roaring in his ears, in tune with his mood, hewalked the four miles out to the extreme point of Strathsey Neck. Itwas a grim walk, but not an unhappy one, for he had won his battle andhad definitely made up his mind to be silent about the game as he hadbeen silent about the hazing.
* * * * *
But Tony was not the only person who had witnessed the game that dayand knew who in reality was responsible for the defeat. Mr. Morris,who chanced to be standing on the side near the Boxford goal-line,had seen with perfect distinctness all that took place during thatexciting moment of the game. And though several of the boys standingnear him had exclaimed, “It looks as if Chapin had knocked the ballout of Deering’s arms himself,” with his accustomed reserve, he heldhis peace and made no comment. The incredibility of such an act onChapin’s part had speedily driven from the boys’ minds the momentaryimpression. Morris, observing at the time of the game that ReggieCarroll was standing near him, had moved over to join him. But at thatinstant time had been called, and immediately the field was a sceneof indescribable confusion. The house master pondered over the matterduring the evening, but could not make up his mind as to the propercourse of action.
Just before lights that night he strolled into Carroll’s and Deering’sstudy, where he found Reggie as usual at his ease in a Morris chairwith a novel in his hands. Carroll affected French novels, largelybecause he could plead the excuse when he was caught reading them thatit was for the sake of his languages.
“Come in, do, Mr. Morris,” exclaimed Carroll, with a trace less thanhis wonted coolness. The master entered, closing the door behind him.“Where is Deering?” he asked, as he seated himself on the couch, andtaking up a paper-cutter from the table, began to play with it.
“He has just come back from a long walk, and turned in, sir. Would youlike to speak with him?”
“No, no, thank you,” Morris answered. “But I will sit for a moment, ifyou like, and talk with you. That was an unfortunate game to-day, wasit not?” And as Morris asked the question he looked at Reggie closely.
“Very,” the boy answered, laconically.
“Particularly for our friend Deering,” persisted the master.
“Yes, I wish they had not played him; it was a poor experiment.”
“Had you supposed him a careless player?”
Carroll looked up languidly, but there was a keen glance in his eyes,and a note of significance in his voice, as he answered, “No, sir, Idon’t think him a careless player, Mr. Morris.”
“And yet he fumbled at a most inopportune time,” suggested Morris,musingly.
Carroll flung his book a little impatiently on the table, and lookedthe older man frankly in the eyes. “Mr. Morris,” he exclaimed, withevery trace of indifference gone, “I am going to tell you in strictconfidence what I know about the game. It is scarcely a decent thingfor me to tell it, but then I saw it.”
“Yes, yes,” Morris murmured, encouragingly.
“I saw Arthur Chapin knock the ball out of Tony’s arms just as theycrossed the line and the Boxford quarter tackled him. I believe he didit on purpose. Now, I know,” he went on quickly, “that it is a terribleaccusation to make against a fellow even in confidence to you; butthat’s what happened, and I don’t know what I ought to do about it.It’s incredible, but I saw it.” And springing from his chair, Reggiebegan to pace excitedly up and down the room.
“Yes,” said Mr. Morris, quietly, “it is incredible, but I saw it too.”
“What!” exclaimed Reggie. “You saw it, Mr. Morris?”
“Yes, just as you describe it. It is due to the fact that I supposedyou also had seen it that I came in to talk it over with you to-night.I am afraid Chapin is capable of that sort of thing.”
“Well, then——”—Reggie stopped—”Well, then,” he repeated, “I supposeit is up to us to tell the Head.”
Morris appeared to be lost in thought. “Of course,” he said, after amoment, “that is the right course to think of; but I am not sure, mydear fellow, that I think it best for us to do that just yet. I want towait a bit, I think, and see what Deering might wish us to do. You canbe sure he knows it.”
“Oh, yes, I am sure he knows,—he couldn’t help knowing.”
“Well, personally I can’t see what good will come by going to the Headright away. I am quite sure that if it is brought officially to Dr.Forester’s notice that he will feel obliged to make it known to theschool, both as a punishment to Chapin and in just
ice to Deering.”
“But ought that not to be done?” asked Carroll.
“Well, in one sense, yes; but do you know, Reggie,—though it may seemunwise in me, I have an extraordinary faith in Deering’s judgment aboutthis matter. I want to know how he takes it before we do anything.”
“I don’t think _he will_ want us to do anything. But, sir, think ofwhat his not telling will mean to him; think of the way the school willtreat him for a while!”
“Yes, but only for a while. There are possibilities in the situation,Reginald, that I think we were wiser not to spoil by acting upon snapjudgments.”
Carroll reflected. “Right, O wise man!” he exclaimed in a moment.“Shall we sound Tony, then?”
“Rather not, I should say. Let us see the line that Tony takes himself.A few days will not make any difference, and we can set thingsstraight, you know.”
“But, Mr. Morris, the school is going to lose the credit of victory.”
“Ah! it must do that in any case. _One_ of our men fumbled, you know,whether accidentally or not; it makes no difference in the resultof the game:—Boxford won. What’s really at stake, my boy, is thecharacter of those two fellows, and that’s everything—_everything_,Reggie!”
“By Jove, Mr. Morris,” exclaimed the boy impetuously, “if anyone willever make me believe that, you and Deering will.” And he shook themaster’s hand more heartily than he had ever done before.
Deering appeared the next day at his usual place in school, and facedthe ordeal bravely enough. It was an ordeal despite a general efforton the part of a majority of the boys to avoid discussion of the gamein his presence. Here and there, to be sure, he met with the veiledglance of contempt or unfriendliness. Hardest of all, however, he foundit to receive Sandy Maclaren’s and Mr. Stenton’s kindly sympathy. TheGreat Sandy, as the boys affectionately called him, from his pinnacleas the Head of the School, was a hero to Tony. Sandy’s confidence andfriendliness had been one of the chief factors in what he regarded ashis success. The friendliness was still there, but Tony sadly fearedthe confidence was shattered.
Stenton took him by the arm as the boys were pouring out of morningChapel the next day, where they had heard a sermon in which the Doctorhad obviously taken his illustrations from the defeat of the daybefore. Stenton drew Tony along with him toward the Old School.
“I want to apologize to you, Deering,” he began, “for the way I spoketo you yesterday afternoon. I was horribly upset by the unexpectednessof things, and simply lost my temper. I know you did your best, and Iknow too that no one is proof against accident in football or anythingelse.”
Tony bit his lip and set his teeth. “Thanks, Mr. Stenton,” he saidbriefly. “I appreciate your speaking to me in this way.”
“It was poor interference, anyway,” went on the master, “Chapinmight have saved the day if he had been a bit faster. He had no windyesterday.”
Tony kept silent, and there was an awkward pause in the conversation,during which they came to the steps of the Old School. “Well,” saidStenton, turning off, “I only wanted to tell you that I am sorry Ispoke irritably. I want you to have your chance next year again, andshow that you are the player I think you are.”
“Thank you very much, Mr. Stenton,” said Tony again, and turned away.
That night after Chapel Tony had his first talk with Carroll sincethe game. It was desultory enough, until Reggie spoke out frankly andexpressed his sympathy. Then Deering was immediately alert, his faceflushed quickly, and he spoke with rather a tone of irritation. “Don’tlet’s talk about the game, Reggie. It was a bad business, and I havemade up my mind that the less said about it the better. Matters can’tbe changed, and all I can hope to do is to make good next year. Stentonhas as much as promised that I shall have the chance. I want to forgetyesterday’s game as quickly as possible.”
“Right!” said Carroll. “I promise you, you shall hear no more of itfrom me.”
A little later, after Tony had gone to bed, Carroll went in to see Mr.Morris, and repeated the substance of this conversation.
“It’s as I thought,” he said in conclusion, “we shall hear no more ofit from Tony. Do you still think, sir, that we should hold our tongues?”
“For the present, yes,” answered Morris. “If you don’t mind, Reggie, Iwant to manage this myself. In the course of time, I shall see Chapin,if he takes no action to clear Deering. It will be infinitely better ifhe confesses of his own accord. The truth will be known some time, andin the meanwhile I don’t think Deering will really suffer in popularestimation. The boys like him, and they will forgive what they think ishis carelessness. If the confession comes from Chapin both boys willget some good out of it. I feel sure that the Doctor would approve ofthis, though I feel equally sure that if the matter were brought to hisattention now he would feel obliged to act as Head Master at once.”
“Very good, sir: I shall say no more about it, until you give meleave.”
Morris was right. Tony did not suffer very greatly, and in the courseof a few weeks the game was practically forgotten. Chapin certainlyshowed no inclination to right the wrong he had done, and for the timebeing, Morris was content to let matters drift.
Within a month the school broke up for the three weeks’ Christmasrecess. Tony did not make the long trip south for a visit home, butinstead went with Jimmie to the Lawrences’ country-place on LongIsland, where the boys spent a happy holiday, riding and shooting,and being plied with good things by Jimmie’s indulgent parents. Tonymade a good impression on Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence, and this visit tohis friend’s home, served to deepen and strengthen the happy intimacybetween the two boys. Early in January they were back at Deal for thelong winter term, which Tony was promised would be exceedingly dull.He rather welcomed the relief from football practice, however, andsensibly made up his mind to make the term count in his form work. Forso far, Tony’s reputation as a scholar had scarcely kept pace with hispopularity as a genial companion and a good athlete.
Deering of Deal; Or, The Spirit of the School Page 9