CHAPTER XVI
IN BAD
The clock was ticking. To Andy it sounded as loud as a timepiece in atower. The rhythmic cadence seemed to fill the room. Somewhere off inthe distance a bell boomed out--a church bell.
Andy sat in a brown study, looking into the fireplace. A little blazewas going on the hearth, and the young student, gazing at the embers sawmany pictures there.
For some time Andy sat without stirring. He had listened to theretreating footsteps of Dunk and Mortimer as the boys passed down thecorridor, laughing.
Through Wright Hall there echoed other footsteps--coming andgoing--there was the sound of voices in talk and in gay repartee.Students called one to the other, or in groups hurried here and there,intent on pleasure. Andy sat there alone--thinking--thinking.
A log in the fireplace broke with a suddenness that startled him. Ashower of sparks flew up the chimney, and a little puff of smoke shotout into the room. Andy roused himself.
"Oh, hang it all!" he exclaimed aloud. "Why should I care? Let him gowith that crowd--with Mort and his bunch if he likes. What differencedoes it make to me?"
He stood up, his arm on the mantel where had rested the Japanese vasepurchased so mysteriously. Now only the fragments of it were there.
A comparison between that shattered vase and what might be the shatteredfriendship between himself and his roommate came to Andy, but heresolutely thrust it aside.
"What difference does it make to me?" he asked himself. "Let him go hisown way, and I'll go mine."
He crossed to the book rack on the window sill, intending to do somestudying. On the broad stone ledge outside the casement he kept hisbottle of spring water. It was a cooler place than the room. Andy pouredhimself out a drink, and as he sipped it he said again:
"Why should I care what he does?"
Then, from off in the distance he heard the chimes of a church, playing"Adestes Fideles."
He stood listening--entranced as the tones came to him, softened by thenight air.
And there seemed to whisper to him a still, small voice that asked:
"Am I my brother's keeper?"
Andy shut the window softly, and, going back to his chair sat staringinto the fire. It was dying down, the embers settling into the deadashes. It was very still and quiet in the little room. All Wright Hallwas very still and quiet now.
"I--I guess I'll have to care--after all," whispered Andy.
Footsteps were heard coming along the corridor, and, for a moment Andyhad a wild hope that it might be Dunk returning. But as he listened heknew it was not his chum.
Someone knocked on the door.
"Come!" called Andy sharply. It could be none of his friends, he knew.
A messenger entered with a note, and, observing an unfamiliarhandwriting, Andy wondered from whom it could be. He ripped it open anduttered an exclamation. He read:
"Dear Mr. Blair:
"I am doing a little engagement at Poli's. Won't you drop around and see me? I promise not to compel you to play the fireman.
"Sincerely yours, "MAZIE FULLER."
"Jove!" murmured Andy. "I forgot all about her."
"Any answer?" asked the messenger.
"No."
The boy started out.
"Oh, yes. Wait a minute." Andy scribbled an acceptance.
"Here," he said, and handed the boy a quarter.
"T'anks!" exclaimed the urchin. Then with a roguish glance he added:"Gee, but you college guys is great!"
"Hop along!" commanded Andy briefly.
Should he go, after all? He had said he would and yet----
"Oh, hang it! I guess I'd better go!" he said aloud, just as though hehad not intended to all along. He turned up the light and began throwingabout a pile of neckties. He tried first one and then another. Noneseemed to satisfy him, and when he did get the hue that suited him itwould not allow itself to be properly tied.
"Oh, rats!" Andy exclaimed. "Why should I care?"
Why indeed? It is one of the mysteries. "Vanity of vanities" and therest of it.
As he entered Poli's Andy was aware that something unusual was going on.The ushers were grinning with good-natured tolerance, but there wasrather an anxious look on the faces of some of the women in theaudience. Some of their male escorts appeared resentful.
Andy had been obliged to purchase a box seat, as there were no vacantones in the body of the house. As he sank into his chair, rather back,for the box was well filled, he saw a college classmate.
"What's up?" he asked, the curtain then being down to allow of a changeof scene.
"Oh, Gaffington and his crowd are joshing some of the acts."
"Any row?"
"No, everybody takes it good-naturedly. Bunch of our fellows hereto-night."
"Show any good?"
"Pretty fair. Some of the things are punk. There's a good numbercoming--Mazie Fuller--she's got a new act. And Bodkins--you know thetramp juggler--the one who does things with cigar boxes--he's coming onnext. He's a scream."
"Yes, I know him. He's all right."
The curtain went up and from the wings came Miss Fuller. She hadprospered in vaudeville, it seemed, for she had on a richer costume thanthe one she wore when she had been so nearly burned to death.
She was well received, and while singing her first number she lookedabout the house. Presently she caught the eyes of Andy--he had leanedforward in the box, perhaps purposely. Miss Fuller smiled at him, andat once a chorus of cries arose from the students in the different partsof the theater. Up to then, since Andy's entrance, there had been nocommotion. Now it broke out again.
"Oh, get on to that!"
"The lad with the dreamy eyes!"
"Oh, you Andy Blair!"
Andy sank back blushing, but Miss Fuller took it in good part.
Her act went on, and was well received. She did not again look at Andy,possibly fearing to embarrass him. And then, as she retired after herlast number--a veritable whirlwind song--there came a thunder ofapplause, mingled with shrill whistles, to compel an encore.
Andy was aware of a disturbance in the front of the house. It was wherea number of the students were seated, and Andy had a glimpse of DunkChamber. Beside him was Gaffington. Dunk had arisen and was swayingunsteadily on his feet.
"Sit down!"
"Keep him quiet!"
"Put him out!"
"Call the manager!"
"Make him sit down!"
Andy began to feel uneasy. He could see the unhappy condition of hisroommate and those with him. The worst he feared had come to pass.
Swaying, but still managing not to step on anyone, Dunk made his way tothe aisle, and then, getting close to the box where Andy sat, climbedover the rail. The manager motioned to an usher not to interfere.Probably he thought it was the best means of producing quiet.
"Here I am, Andy," announced Dunk gravely.
"So I see," spoke Andy, his face blazing at the notice he was receiving."Sit down and keep quiet. There's a good act coming."
"Hush!" exclaimed a number of voices as the curtain slid up, to giveplace to "Bustling Bodkins," the tramp juggler. The actor came out inhis usual ragged make-up, and proceeded to do things with a pile ofempty cigar boxes--really a clever trick. Dunk watched him with curiousgravity for a while and then started to climb over the footlights on tothe stage.
"No, you don't, Dunk!" cried Andy, firmly, and despite his chum'sprotests he hauled him back. Then he took Dunk firmly by the arm andmarched him out of a side entrance of the show-house.
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