CHAPTER XVI
A RIFT IN FRIENDSHIP
The prominent members of a particular set of boys can scarcely be onbad terms with each other without the relations of them all being moreor less affected, and this was certainly the case with our friendsat Deal. Tony had more and more become the real leader of the littlecircle, so that Kit’s defection partook of the nature of a rebellion.
Tack Turner, who had blackballed Finch at Kit’s request, had bythat act lined himself on Wilson’s side. He was a slow, rather dullboy, quieter than the others, but generally liked. He had not feltparticularly one way or the other with regard to Finch, and had agreedwith Kit chiefly because it happened to be Kit that spoke to him first.But having given his word, he was of that tenacious and somewhatunintelligent type, that will stick to it whether subsequent eventsshow his position to be a reasonable one or not. His semi-indifferentattitude was transformed, however, into violent partisanship for Kit,as Tony took occasion the morning after the Dealonian meeting toexpress his opinion of Tack’s blackballing Finch somewhat caustically.
“I confess, Tack,” he said “that I never gave you the credit for muchindependence of judgment, but I didn’t think you were quite so devoidof it as to vote just the way you were told to.”
Turner growled out a bitter retort to this unnecessary remark, and thetwo parted on bad terms for the first time in their lives.
Charlie Gordon, a light-hearted, easy-going, generous-minded lad sidednaturally enough with Tony, and had been quite impressed by Tony’seloquence the evening before. Teddy Lansing had not voted, and refusedto commit himself. Poor Jimmie Lawrence was torn in both directions. Hehad been willing enough to vote for Finch and let Tony have his way,because he was deeply and genuinely fond of him, and was accustomedto follow his lead; but he could not bring himself to feel, despiteTony’s eloquent appeal at the meeting, that there was any real casefor Finch with respect to the Dealonian, and he deplored the fact thatTony insisted on his plan. He was fond of Kit also; they had beenchums since they had entered Deal together in the First Form fiveyears before. His position was really a very hard one, because he feltand tried to be neutral, and neither Tony nor Kit, between whom thebreach grew wider, was satisfied with neutrality. Both actually, if notexpressly, were demanding partisanship.
Perhaps the most unfortunate aspect of the incident—and this alsoJimmie had dimly foreseen and feared—was the effect it had on JacobFinch. Forty boys cannot keep a secret, so that it was not long beforeFinch heard a tolerably correct version of what had taken place at theDealonian meeting. He was grateful to Deering for the effort he hadmade in his behalf, but the consciousness that he had been publiclydiscussed by a society of representative boys and formally rejected asa candidate for their companionship, added intensely to the bitternessof what he felt was his position.
Sometimes when he was alone and thought of the incident, the hot tearswould well up in his eyes and blind him. Bitter thoughts likewise wouldrise up in his soul and overwhelm him. He sometimes felt he could notstick it out for the year. But then, what else could he do? He couldnot think. He was absolutely dependent upon Doctor Forester, and he wasnot of the caliber to act rashly, go bravely out and face the hostileworld. And the world seemed hostile to him—the very elements, thesebiting winter winds and prolonged northeast storms—seemed to beatagainst him. Hated alike by masters and boys, as he thought, he indeedwas miserable. And, alas! save for his ardent affection for Deering, hebegan to hate bitterly and maliciously in return.
Life had taught him to be sly and silent, but heretofore beyond afurtive manner and an intense reserve, the quality of slyness had notshown itself. But now his malice seemed to demand expression, impelledhim to action, and he began, first in little ways, afterwards bymore systematic plans to torment his tormentors. But so secretly, socautiously, that, though his sting was felt, his victim was ignorantwhence it had come.
The principal objects of his hatred were Mr. Roylston and KitWilson, the latter only after he learned of Kit’s breach with Tony.Mr. Roylston began to be afflicted with a series of annoying andinexplicable incidents; anonymous letters were slipped into hismail-box, threatening him with dire calamities unless he speedilyexhibited a change of heart; his books, his papers were misplaced,to be found in out-of-the-way places; twice or thrice his study wasdisordered; and once, at night as he was crossing the field, mud wasthrown at him and his immaculate clothes were sadly bespattered. But socarefully did the culprit destroy all clues to his identity that themaster had no redress. For once he was baffled. Never, so contemptuousan opinion did he hold of Finch’s spirit, did it occur to him even tosuspect the poor worm whom daily he ground beneath the brazen feet ofhis sarcasm in the classroom.
He took little Beverly into his confidence as they sat late one nightover a comfortable fire in the masters’ common-room.
“These things,” he remarked, “have been going on now for a number ofweeks, and for the first time in my experience I do not discover theslightest clue to the culprit.”
“Of course, however,” was Beverly’s comment, made partly to display hisomniscience, partly to flatter an older colleague, “of course, you haveyour suspicions?”
“Of course,” responded Roylston dryly, “that goes without saying. Ihave suspected both Deering and Wilson, whom indeed several timesbefore have I discovered in misdemeanors of a similar character; but,if you chance to have been observing of late, you will have noticed andwondered that those two charming youths no longer consort together.”
“Oh, boys of that sort,” said Beverly blithely, to hide his ignoranceof the alleged coolness, “boys of that sort always fall out after atime. Mischief is a poor cement for friendship.”
“On the contrary it has been my observation that it often does cementit. But I am the less inclined to lay my annoyances to the two boys Ihave mentioned than I would be if they were as thick as they formerlywere. Wilson simply has not the ingenuity or the wit to do suchthings for so long a time and escape detection; and Deering lacks theincentive of Wilson’s impulsive and malignant vindictiveness. I aminclined to feel that I will discover the miscreant in some other set.Alas! they are not the only boys not above such things.”
“I would keep an eye on my suspects, however,” remarked Beverly, withan air of conviction that he was offering very subtle advice.
“Oh, my eye is ever on suspects, my friend.”
At that moment Morris happened to come into the common-room, and theconversation was dropped.
Finch, impishly elated by the successful secrecy of his attentionsto Mr. Roylston and finding a certain relief for his spleen in hismalicious tricks, began to extend his operations, concentrating onWilson. Kit, when he discovered the tricks that had been played uponhim, would storm about noisily, berating possible miscreants rightand left, but for some time with as little effect as had attended Mr.Roylston’s quieter efforts. Success, however, rarely waits upon thecriminal faithfully. He grows inevitably careless and falls at lastinto the most obvious trap that is set for him. Poor Jake proved noexception.
Twice in a week Kit had come in about four o’clock from his runacross country with the hare and hounds, an unpopular game that hewas seeking to boom, to find his room “rough-housed.” It was not thegeneral disorder familiarly known by that term, but a more systematicconfusion, if we may so speak; a more malicious effort to injure hisproperty. His prepared work for the next day’s recitations would besmeared with ink so that it would have to be completely rewritten;his desk drawers would be turned topsy-turvy; his clothes hidden awayin unexpected nooks and corners. This had happened several times, andthe character of the destruction was more wanton than is often thecase when boys indulge in such misguided forms of practical joking. Hedetermined to watch carefully for weeks, if necessary, and catch theculprit if he should attempt to repeat his vandalism.
As usual, one afternoon after two o’clock call-over, he went offostensibly for his run in running drawers and shirt, his white legs andarms gle
aming in the winter sunshine, as he dashed down the hill withhis hounds. But this time he deserted them at the foot of the hill,skirted the path along the Rocks in the direction of Whetstone andreturned to the school within half-an-hour by way of the steep-slopingsouth field, which faces Monday Port and which the boys seldom playedupon. Unobserved, for his schoolmates were mostly far afield, hereached Standerland, tiptoed through the corridors to his room, andonce inside hid himself carefully behind the curtains that screenedthe door into his bedroom.
He waited impatiently a long dull half-hour, and several times was onthe point of giving up; but for all his impulsiveness, Kit was doggedlypersistent, and was quite capable of waiting there for an hour or moreseveral times a week. And at last, to his joy, he heard a soft step inthe corridor. Some one had paused before his door, and was evidentlylistening for sounds within. Then there was a gentle tap. Kit was stillas a mouse. Another tap, another wait, then the door opened softly,and some one slipped in. Kit scarcely breathed. He could not see whoit was, but he heard the intruder close the door gently behind him andstand for a moment, as Kit thought, looking furtively around him. Heeven came to the door of the bedroom, brushing the curtains back ofwhich Kit was concealed as he passed. Then, satisfied at last that hewas safe and alone, he went quickly to Kit’s desk, opened the drawersand thrust malicious disturbing hands amongst their contents. Then hedrew forth a bundle of papers. Kit heard him rattle the ink-well, andhis quick ears caught the sound of the patter of the ink drops as theyfell on the papers. Instantly he leaped forward, with one bound wasacross the room, and had grabbed the vandal by the collar. It was JacobFinch.
For a moment, as Kit recognized the intruder, he was speechless withsurprise. Finch stood as if he were paralyzed, in the position in whichKit had grabbed him. Only the ink-well had fallen from his fingers, andthe black fluid was trickling from the desk onto the floor. His facewas ashy, his eyes glared like those of a rat in a corner. In a secondKit recovered himself.
HE OPENED THE DRAWERS AND THRUST MALICIOUS DISTURBINGHANDS AMONG THE CONTENTS]
“You little hound,” he hissed, his anger blazing forth. “So it’s youthat’s been rough-housing my room!”
Finch could not utter a word.
“Speak up, you cur. Bah! there’s no need. I’ve got you in the act.You’re caught red-handed, you sneak!”
He advanced threateningly, determined to administer instantly the soundthrashing he felt was too good for the palsied little wretch beforehim. As he grasped Finch’s collar the second time, the boy let out aweird shrill wail like the cry of an animal.
“Pah!” cried Wilson, “I can’t stand the touch of you. Get out of mysight.” He gave Finch a vicious kick that sent him reeling toward thedoor.
“If ever you come near my room again,” shouted Kit, “I’ll break everybone in your miserable body. You sneak! You cur! Get out!”
Poor Finch did not debate upon the manner of his going. With onemovement, he had wrenched open the door and fled, not escaping,however, a parting shot from Wilson’s boot.
Kit turned wrathfully to survey his damaged desk and papers, and beganto clear the litter up.
“The sneak!” he muttered. “And that’s the specimen that Tony Deeringthought we ought to take into the Dealonian, that’s the dirty littlecur for whom he’s thrown me over!”
Unfortunately, as Finch sped down the corridor for his own room, heran squarely into Tony who was just coming out of Number Five study.
“Well, what the deuce is the matter with you?” exclaimed Deering,turning to look at the bewildered figure. But Finch did not reply.He dashed into his own room, and slammed and locked the door. Tonywhistled softly, and went on. He was on his way to the shower, and hadnothing on but his wrapper. His way led past Number Twelve study whereKit roomed, and at its door, as he turned a corner of the corridor,he saw Wilson thrusting armfuls of paper into the waste basket. Tonydropped his eyes and did not speak. Wilson looked up suddenly andrecognized him, and impulsively exclaimed: “I say, Deering, just lookhere and see what a mess your particular pet has made for me.”
Tony stopped, surprised, and annoyed by Wilson’s angry tone. He glancedindifferently at the disordered room, the desk stained by the greatblot of ink, the crumbled papers. “Well,” he remarked, “I don’t see howthis concerns me or my friends.”
“You don’t, eh?” exclaimed Kit. “Well, I blamed well do. That’s thesort of thing I’ve had to put up with for the last three weeks. Yourfriend Finch has been in here, kindly putting my room on the bum.”
“Finch!” cried Tony. “I don’t be—I reckon you’ve made a mistake.”
“I _reckon_ I haven’t. I laid for him, if you want to know; and I hadthe pleasure just now of kicking him out. If I catch him in here again,I’ll break every bone in his body. Since you are so deeply interestedin his welfare, you’ll be doing him a kindness if you tell him thatfor me.”
Deering’s lips curled contemptuously. “I don’t know exactly what youare driving at, Wilson, and I don’t think I particularly care.”
Kit snorted, and went on with the task of setting his things to right.Tony majestically proceeded toward the shower. After he had stood fora quarter of an hour under cold water he felt considerably cooler,and when he had dressed, he stopped at Finch’s room on his way to theRectory for tea. Finch at first refused to respond to his knock.
“Come, come, open up, old man. I want to see you particularly.”
It was a bedraggled depressed-looking Finch that finally opened hisdoor. Deering pushed it back and entered. “Now, what’s the trouble?” heasked. “I know something’s up, because Wilson just now said he had—hadput you out of his room. What were you there for?”
“He did put me out,” gasped Finch. He hesitated, then lied desperately.“I wanted to borrow some paper. I thought of asking you, but Wilsonhad the kind I wanted. He wasn’t in, or at least I thought he wasn’tin, so I went to his desk, and began to pull some sheets off his pad,and he jumped on me from behind a curtain or out of his bedroom, fromsomewhere, I dunno where.”
“What did he say?”
“Nothing much. He called me a sneak, and kicked me out.”
“How did the ink get spilled?”
“I knocked it over when he jumped at me. Somebody’s been rough-housinghis room, I guess, and he thought it was me.”
“Well, it wasn’t you, Jake, was it?” asked Tony, fixing him with a keenhurt glance.
“No, Deering, ‘pon my honor, it wasn’t.”
“Had you ever been to his room before?”
“Never alone.” His eyes shifted back to meet Tony’s wondering glance.“Don’t you believe me, Deering?” There was a wail of despair in hisvoice.
“Yes, Jake, yes; of course, I believe you. I know you wouldn’t lie tome. Cheer up, I’ll try to get Wilson to listen to reason.”
“Oh, don’t—!” Jake stopped, aghast at his possible mistake. “I don’twant you to do anything for me, Deering, you’ve done enough. I’m justalways getting you in trouble.”
“That’s all right, Jake; helping a friend out isn’t trouble.”
And with that Tony went on. He stopped again at Wilson’s room. The doorwas still open, and Kit was still fussing about his desk. He looked upat the knock, and scowled a little as he bade his visitor come in.
Tony came in and closed the door behind him. “Look here, Kit,” he said,trying hard to keep control of his voice. “I want to speak to you aboutFinch. I think you have done him a wrong. He came in here to borrowsome paper——”
“Oh, is that the song and dance he gives you? Well, I know what he camein for. If you want to know, I kept still behind those curtains for acouple of minutes while he started his dirty work, and I caught himright in the act, with that ink-well in his greasy fingers smearing myexercises with it. He has been rough-housing this room for two or threeweeks.”
“Well, he says he hasn’t, and I don’t think he’s a liar. Will you givehim a chance to explain?”
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bsp; “I’ll be hanged if I will. I know he’s a liar. I know it, man. Don’ttalk to me any such blamed rot about his coming in here to borrowpaper; he’s a sneak and a toad, and if he comes near me again I’ll lickthe life out of him.”
“Go ahead, bully a chap that can’t defend himself.”
“Look here, Tony. I hate to quarrel with you, but it’s got to come. Ithought you were wrong about that kid from the first; he ain’t fit forhelp, and ’s for the Dealonian,—well, save the mark! But it’s come tothis—you and I can’t be friends, if you are going to take that littlesneak’s part against me. We’ll just break for good and all. You can’tbe a friend of mine, and take the attitude toward him that you’ve beentaking. I might have got over the other business; but I can’t get overto-day’s dirty work, and for you to come in here, and tell me the packof lies he’s made up, is too much. Let’s cut it out, and have done witheach other.”
“Oh, all right; if that’s your point of view, I’m willing. You’reunreasonable and hot-headed, Kit. So long, old man, I’m sorry you can’tbe just.”
“So long,” said Wilson, as Tony stalked out.
For a moment or so Kit fumed about, pulling things out of their placesand thrusting them viciously back. Suddenly he put his head down on thetable, and burst into tears.
Deering of Deal; Or, The Spirit of the School Page 19