CHAPTER III
INTRODUCES MR. JERRY HINKLEY AND AN IMPROMPTU DINNER
That was a strange meal and an enjoyable one. The menu wasn’telaborate, but their appetites were, and not one of the four wasinclined to be critical. What had formerly been the carriage house hadbeen fitted up with a couple of cot beds, some chairs, a stove, and atable, into an airy, if not very well-appointed, apartment. The boy inoveralls, whose name during the subsequent conversation transpired tobe Jerry Hinkley, produced a loaf of bread and a pat of butter from abox, and then disappeared for a minute. When he returned he brought abattered tin can half full of milk. Eating utensils were scarce, andthe boys had to take turns with the two knives and the two thick chinacups. The table boasted no cloth, and Tom had to sit on an empty box,but those were mere details.
“I looked to see if I could find a few eggs,” said Jerry, as he pouredout the milk, “but we ain’t got but eight hens and they ain’t beenlayin’ much lately.”
“This will do finely,” mumbled Dan, with his mouth full of bread andbutter.
“It’s swell,” said Tom from behind his cup.
The doors were wide open, and the September sunlight streamed in overthe dusty floor. A bedraggled rooster, followed cautiously by a trioof dejected-looking hens, approached and observed the banquet from thedoorsill, clucking suspiciously. Jerry sat on the edge of one of thecots and watched proceedings with interest. But he seemed uneasy, andonce or twice he started up only to change his mind with a troubledfrown and return to his seat. Finally he asked awkwardly:
“Say, was you fellows meanin’ to pay anything for your food?”
“Of course,” Bob assured him. “You don’t think we’re going to let youfeed us for nothing?”
“That’s all right, then,” said Jerry, looking vastly relieved. “We gotsome bacon and if you say so I’ll fry you some in a jiffy.”
The boys howled approval.
“You see,” continued Jerry, “I was most skeered to give you bacon’cause dad would have missed it when he got back. Dad ain’t gotmuch money, an’ I guess he wouldn’t like me to be too free with thevictuals. But if you’re willin’ to pay----”
“Sure, we’ll pay,” said Bob.
So Jerry set a frying pan on top of the stove, touched a match to thepile of straw and corncobs inside, and produced a strip of bacon fromthe larder. Even Bob, who prided himself on his culinary abilities, hadto pay tribute to Jerry’s deftness. In ten minutes the first panful ofcrisp bacon was ready and a second lot was sizzling on the stove.
“Talk about your reed birds!” said Dan eloquently.
“Never tasted anything better in my life,” said Nelson. “Is there anymore milk there?”
Ten minutes later the banquet was a thing of the past, and the four satback and sighed luxuriously.
“That was sure fine,” said Dan. “My, but I was hungry!”
“Me too,” answered Nelson. “But look here, how about you?” He lookedinquiringly at Jerry. “We haven’t left you a thing.”
“Oh, I had my dinner at twelve,” answered their host, as he cleared thetable. “You see we have our breakfast about six, dad an’ me.”
“You say your father’s away to-day?” asked Bob.
“Yes, gone over to Roslyn to buy some feed for the horse.”
“And you live here all the year, do you?”
“We only come here last April. We used to have a farm down nearHicksville, but we lost it.”
“That’s too bad. Is there just you and your father?”
Jerry nodded soberly.
“Mother died year ago last May. Me an’ dad’s been kind of helplesssince then. Things don’t seem to go just right nowadays.”
“Do you go to school?” asked Nelson.
“No. I did one year over to Newton. It was a mighty nice school too.There was three teachers. I learnt a whole lot that winter. I beenintendin’ to go again, but since mother died----”
Jerry’s voice dwindled away into silence while he stared out into thesunlit stable yard.
“I see,” said Bob sympathetically.
“Mother she taught me a lot at home when I was just a kid,” resumedJerry. “Spellin’, ’rithmetic, and all about Scotland. She was born inScotland, you see. I guess I know more’n most fellers about Scotland,”he added proudly.
“I bet you know a heap more about it than I do,” said Bob.
“I guess you’re through school, ain’t you?” asked Jerry.
“I get through this year,” answered Bob. “Then I’m going to college.”
Jerry’s eyes brightened.
“Is that so?” he asked eagerly. “I guess you’re pretty smart. Whatcollege are you going to?”
“Erskine. Ever hear of it?”
“No.” Jerry shook his head apologetically. “You see I don’t know muchabout colleges. I--I’d like to see one. I guess Yale must be prettyfine. I expect it’s bigger’n that boardin’ school over to Garden City?”
“St. Paul’s? Some bigger, yes.”
“Is the school you been going to like St. Paul’s?”
“Not much, but Nelson and Tommy here go to a school a good deal thesame. Hillton. Ever hear of Hillton?”
Again Jerry shook his head.
“What’s it like, your school?” he asked.
For the next quarter of an hour Nelson told about Hillton--Tominterpolating explanatory footnotes, as it were--and Jerry listenedwith shining eyes and open mouth. It was all very wonderful to him,and he asked question after question. Dan tried to tell him that whileHillton was good enough in a way, the only school worth boasting aboutwas St. Eustace. But Tom tipped him out of his chair, and as it isdifficult to uphold the honor of your school with any eloquence fromthe hard floor of a carriage house, Dan decided to shut up.
“I guess it costs a good deal to go to a school like that,” said Jerryregretfully.
“Not so awful much,” answered Nelson. “A fellow can get through theyear on three hundred.”
Jerry nodded gravely.
“I guess that’s kind of reasonable, ain’t it?”
“Yes. Then if a fellow is lucky enough to get a scholarship, it bringsit down to about two hundred, maybe.”
“What’s a scholarship like?” asked Jerry interestedly.
Nelson explained.
“I guess it’s pretty hard to get into one of them schools, ain’t it?”pursued Jerry.
“Oh, not so very hard.”
“Think I could do it?”
“Well--I don’t know. I think maybe you could if you had some coaching.”
“What’s that like?” asked Jerry.
Nelson glanced appealingly at Bob, and the latter took up the task.Half an hour later the four decided that it was time for them to begoing. Bob broached the matter of payment.
“How much do we owe, Jerry?”
“I guess about a quarter,” answered Jerry.
“A quarter!” cried Tom. “Get out! That was worth a dollar! It saved mylife.”
“It’s worth fifty cents, anyhow,” said Nelson, “and here’s mine.”
“Well,” said Jerry accepting the coin reluctantly, “but I don’t feeljust right about it. You see, the milk don’t cost nothin’, and thebutter don’t cost nothin’, and the bread was only five cents, and----”
“That bread was worth more than five cents to us,” laughed Dan. “Here,take the money, and don’t be silly.” Dan held out his half dollar, andBob and Tom followed suit. Jerry looked bewildered.
“What’s that?” he asked.
“We’re going to pay fifty cents,” said Dan.
“Yes, but he paid it,” replied Jerry, pointing his thumb at Nelson.
“He paid for himself, that’s all.”
“Gosh! I didn’t mean you was to pay fifty cents apiece!” cried Jerry.“Fifty cents is more’n enough for the whole of you!”
They laughed derisively, and tried to get him to accept the rest of themoney, but nothing they found to say had an
y effect.
“I been paid enough,” said Jerry doggedly. “I’m much obliged, butI can’t take no more. You didn’t eat more’n a quarter’s worth ofvictuals.”
In the end they had to let him have his own way. As they were fixingtheir packs on to their shoulders Jerry approached Nelson. He held outa soiled envelope and a stump of pencil.
“Say, would you just write down the name of that school you was tellin’about?” he asked awkwardly.
“Surely,” answered Nelson.
“‘Hillton Academy, Hillton, New York,’” read Jerry unctuously. “Thanks.I’m goin’ there some day.”
“That’s fine,” answered Nelson heartily. “You’ll like it, I’m sure.Maybe you can get up this year while I’m there. I wish you would. I’dbe glad to show you around.”
“This year? No, I couldn’t do that. You see, I’ll have to earn somemoney first; three hundred dollars, you said, didn’t you?”
“Oh, you mean you’re going to enter?” asked Nelson.
“Yes, I’m goin’ to school there. You see”--Jerry paused and lookedthoughtfully out into the afternoon sunlight--“you see, mother alwaysintended me to have an education, an’--an’ I’m agoin’ to have it!” headded doggedly. “I’m goin’ to get out of here; there ain’t nothin’here; I’m goin’ to get a place on a farm and earn some money. I guessone year there would help, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes, it would,” answered Nelson earnestly. “And I dare say if you gotthrough one year, you’d find a way to get through the next. Lots offellows pretty near work their way through school. Look here, Jerry,supposing I wanted to write to you, where could I direct a letter?”
“Dad gets his mail at Bakerville. I guess if you wrote my name and hisname and sent it to Bakerville, I’d get it. I--I’d like first rate toget a letter from you. I ain’t never got very many letters.”
“Well, I’ll write you one,” said Nelson cheerfully. “I shall want toknow how you’re getting along, so you must answer it. Will you?”
Jerry reddened under his tan.
“I guess so,” he muttered. “But I ain’t much of a writer. You see, Iain’t never seemed to have much time for writin’.”
“Of course not! But don’t let that trouble you. All ready, you fellows?Well, good-by, Jerry. We’re awfully much obliged to you. Hope we’ll seeyou again. And don’t forget that you’re going to make some money andenter Hillton.”
Jerry shook hands embarrassedly with each of the four and followed themdown to the road.
“Good-by,” he called. “I wish you’d all come again. You been good totell me about them schools. I--I had a mighty good time!”
They walked on in silence for some distance. Then, when the corner ofthe hotel had disappeared around a turn of the road, Tom broke outexplosively.
“It’s a mu-mu-mu-mean sh-shame!” he said.
“What is?” they asked in chorus.
“Why, that fellow bu-bu-back there. He’d give his skin to gu-gu-gu-goto school, and instead of that he’ll have to stay there in thatpu-pu-place all his life!”
“That’s so, Tommy,” said Bob. “It is hard luck. And he’s a good fellow,too, Jerry is. Take those overalls off him, and put some decent clotheson him, and he’d be a good-looking chap.”
“Yes, and he’s built well too,” added Dan. “He’d make the varsityeleven first pop.”
“He’s the sort of chap who’d be popular, I think,” said Nelson. “Iwish----”
“What do you wish?” asked Dan.
“I wish we could help him.”
There was an instant’s silence. Then Tommy fell over a stone and beganto stutter violently.
“Lu-lu-lu-lu-lu--” sputtered Tommy.
“Easy there,” cautioned Dan. “You’ll blow up in a minute.”
“Lu-lu-lu-lu-lu-lu----”
“Shut up, you fellows,” said Dan indignantly, “and hear what he has tosay. It’s going to be great!”
“Lu-lu-lu-let’s!”
“Eh?”
“How’s that, Tommy?”
“Once more, please.”
“Lu-lu-lu-let’s!” repeated Tom, very red of face.
“Oh, of course!”
“Twice that, Tommy!”
“Let’s what?”
“Lu-let’s help him!”
“Oh! I’d forgotten what we were talking about,” said Dan.
“Yes, that was about half a mile back,” said Bob.
“Let’s see if we can’t make up enough to send him to Hillton for ayear,” went on Tommy. “He’d probably get a scholarship, and then if hefound some work there, he’d make out all right the next year.”
“You’ve got a good heart, Tommy,” said Dan. “It’s a shame you don’t goto a decent school.”
Tom took no notice of the insult.
“Couldn’t we, Bob?” he asked.
“I don’t see how we could do it ourselves,” answered the older boy.“But we might get some one interested in him.”
“Three hundred isn’t awfully much,” said Nelson thoughtfully. “If wegot our folks to give a fourth----”
“That’s it!” cried Tom. “My dad will give a fourth. Why, it would beonly seventy-five dollars!”
“A mere nothing,” murmured Dan. “One moment, please, and I will drawa check.” He flourished his hand through the air. “‘Pay to Jerryseventy-five and no one-hundredths dollars. Daniel H. F. Speede.’ Thereyou are. Oh, not a word, I beg of you! It is nothing, nothing at all! Amere trifle!”
“And I think I can promise for my father,” Nelson was saying. “Howabout you, Bob?”
“I’ll ask. I think he will give it, although I can’t say sure. He’s hadhard luck lately.”
“You’re in it, aren’t you, Dan?”
“Not a cent will I allow my father to pay to send a chap to Hillton,”answered Dan indignantly. “If he wants to go to St. Eustace, now,why----”
“But you see, Dan,” said Tom sweetly, “he wants an education.”
Dan chased Tom down the road and administered proper punishment. Whenorder was restored the four discussed the matter seriously, and it wasdecided that Jerry was to go to Hillton.
“Of course,” said Nelson, “he couldn’t pass the entrance exams as he isnow, but if he has a year’s schooling this year he ought to make it allright. And if he doesn’t have to work he can go to school. I supposethere’s a decent school around here somewhere?”
“Plenty of them,” answered Dan indignantly.
“If he needs some coaching next summer,” said Tom, “I’ll see that hegets it.”
“You might coach him yourself, Tommy,” suggested Dan.
“He said he was sixteen now,” pondered Bob. “That would make himseventeen when he entered. Rather old for the junior class, eh?”
“What of it?” asked Nelson. “I’ll see that he knows some good fellows,and I don’t believe any chap’s going to make fun of him when they knowabout him. Besides, maybe we can get him into the lower middle class.”
“That’s so,” said Tom. “Anyway, I’ll bet he’s the sort that can learnfast and remember things. Wish I could.”
“Here’s a romantic-looking well,” said Dan, “and I’m thirsty. Thatbacon was a trifle salt. Let’s go in and interview the old oakenbucket.”
The well stood in front of a little white house, and as they went upthe walk a woman put her head around the corner of the open door. Dandoffed his cap gallantly.
“May we borrow a drink of water?” he asked politely.
The woman nodded and smiled, and Tom began winding the old-fashionedwindlass. When the bucket--which turned out to be tin instead ofoak--made its appearance the four dipped their cups.
“Fellow tramps,” declaimed Dan, “let us drink a health to Jerry. May hebe a credit to Hillton!”
“May our plans succeed,” added Nelson.
“Here’s to Ju-ju-Jerry!” cried Tom.
“To our _protégé_!” laughed Bob.
“To our _protég�
�_!” they echoed, and drank merrily.
Four Afoot: Being the Adventures of the Big Four on the Highway Page 5