Ben Stone at Oakdale
Page 9
CHAPTER IX.
PROFFERED FRIENDSHIP.
That dinner was one never forgotten by Ben. The softly, yet brightly,lighted table, with its spotless napery, shining silver, fine china andvase of flowers, caused him to feel suddenly overcome as he thought ofhis own poor, plain clothes and natural awkwardness. On the sideboardfacets of cut glass sparkled and gleamed with many diamond colors.Above the wainscoting a few tasty pictures hung on the dark red walls.
Never before had the boy dined in such a room and at such a table, andthe fear that he might do some awkward thing to make him blush withshame was painful upon him. By resolving to watch the others and followtheir example he got along very well, and by the time the second coursehad disappeared their pleasant chatting and perfect freedom hadloosened the strain so that he was once more somewhat at ease.
If he was awkward with his fork, no one noticed it, and finally hequite forgot his embarrassment in the realization of the, to him,remarkable fact that he was among friends, none of whom were seeking todiscover his shortcomings that they might laugh over them and ridiculehim behind his back.
Without an apparent effort to induce him, Ben was led to join in theconversation. He observed that Roger was very tender and consideratetoward his mother, and he did not fail to note the glances of love andadmiration which the invalid bestowed upon her stalwart son.
Little Amy was light-hearted and happy as she sat near the visitor andtalked to him in her artless way, while Urian Eliot appeared to be oneof those rare men who leave all their uncompromising grimness and stiffbusiness manners out of doors when they enter their own homes.
When the dinner was finished they lingered a little over the coffee,all seeming keenly to enjoy this time of relaxation and pleasantconverse. Turning to his son, Mr. Eliot asked:
“How are you coming on with your subscription scheme to raise funds tohire a football coach for your team, Roger?”
“Pretty well,” was the answer. “But I must have twenty-five dollarsmore, at least. I think we have the material to make a good team thisyear, but it takes a coach who knows his business to get the very bestresult out of an eleven on which there is bound to be severalabsolutely green players. Wyndham means to beat us again this year, andwe understand she has a Harvard man as a coach.”
“I suppose you’ve got your eye on a good man you can secure for thatbusiness?”
“Yes; Dash Winton, of Dartmouth. He is one of the finest full-backs inthe country, and was chosen last year for the All-American Eleven,picked from the leading colleges. Winton is the very man for us.”
“Are you sure you can get him?” inquired Mr. Eliot.
Roger nodded. “I’ve taken care of that. I have corresponded with him,and I can have him here two days after I raise the money.”
“Well,” said Mr. Eliot, rising, “go ahead and raise all you can. Whenyou can’t get any more, come to me and I’ll see what I can do for you.”
“Thank you, father!” exclaimed Roger.
When they had returned to the library Roger asked Ben to come to hisroom, and Stone followed up the broad stairs.
Roger’s room, like the rest of the house, was a wonder to Ben. In itsalcove the white bed was partly hidden by portières. The rich carpet onthe floor was soft and yielding to the feet. On a table were moremagazines and books, part of a jointed fishing-rod, and a reel overwhich Roger had been puttering, as it did not run with the noiselessfreedom that was necessary fully to please him. The pictures on thewalls were such as might be selected by an athletic, sport-loving boy.Supported on hooks, there was also a rifle, while crossed foils adornedthe opposite wall. In a corner was a tennis racket, and Ben observeddumb-bells in pairs of various sizes.
“Take the big chair, Stone,” urged Roger. “You’ll find it rathercomfortable, I think. I like it to lounge in when I’m reading orstudying.”
Ben found himself wondering that this fellow who had so manythings—apparently all a boy’s heart could desire—should be sofree-and-easy and should mingle every day without the least air ofpriggishness or superiority with other lads in much humblercircumstances.
This view of Roger’s domestic life, this glimpse of his home and itsseeming luxuries, together with a knowledge of his unassuming ways, ledStone’s respect and admiration for him to increase boundlessly.
“Do you box, Stone?” asked Roger, as he removed from another chair aset of boxing gloves and tossed them aside before sitting down. “Isuppose you do?”
“No,” answered Ben, shaking his head; “I know nothing about it.”
“So? Why, it’s a good thing for a fellow to know how to handle themitts. I thought likely you did when they told me how you biffed HunkRollins. Rollins is a scrapper, you know, although it is a fact that heusually picks his fights with smaller chaps.”
“I hate fighting!” Stone exclaimed, with almost startling vehemence;and Roger noted that, as he uttered the words, he lifted his hand witha seemingly unconscious motion to his mutilated ear.
“But a fellow has to fight sometimes, old man. You gave Rollins what hedeserved, and it may teach him a lesson. By the way, Stone, I asked youout for practice yesterday, and something happened that caused you toleave the field. I am sorry now that I let you go, and I want you tocome out to-morrow with the rest of the fellows. You ought to make agood man for the team, and we’re going to need every good man thisyear.”
Ben managed to hide his emotions, but Roger fancied there was a setexpression on his face and a queer stare in his eyes. Thinking itprobable Stone resented the treatment he had met on the field and theattitude of the boys on hearing Hayden’s accusation, the captain of theeleven hastened to add:
“I hope you’re not holding anything against me. I didn’t know just howto take it when Hayden came at you that way. He’s rather popular here,you know, and there’s a chance that he’ll be captain of the team nextyear. I’ll be out of the school then; I’m going to college. Don’t youmind Hayden or anything he says; I’m captain of the team now, and I’veasked you to practice with us. You will, won’t you?”
There followed a few moments of silence, during which Ben was gettingfull command of himself. The silence was finally broken when he quietlysaid:
“I can’t do it, Eliot.”
“Can’t?” exclaimed Roger, sitting bolt upright in astonishment. “Whynot?”
“Because I shall not be at school to-morrow.” Then, before Roger couldask another question, Ben hurried on, apparently anxious to have itquickly over and done with. “I thank you for again inviting me out forpractice, and I want you to know that I appreciate it; but I can’tcome, because I have left the school for good.”
This astonished Roger more than ever.
“Left school for good?” he echoed. “You don’t mean that, Stone.”
“Yes I do,” declared Ben, almost doggedly.
“Left school? Why have you left school?”
“Because I am compelled to,” explained the questioned lad, stillresolutely keeping his emotion in check. “I can’t help it; I am forcedout of school.”
Eliot rose to his feet.
“What’s all this about?” he asked. “You didn’t come to school thisafternoon. Was it because Prof. Richardson caught you thumping Rollinswhen the fellow was bullyragging that lame kid? Is that it, Stone?”
“That had something to do with it; but that’s only a small part of thecause. That convinced the professor that I am all that’s low and meanand vicious, just as Bernard Hayden’s father told him. Hayden is behindit, Eliot; he is determined that I shall not attend school here, andhe’ll have his way. What can I do against Bern Hayden and his father? Iam alone and without influence or friends; they are set against me, andLemuel Hayden is powerful.”
Although the boy still spoke with a sort of grim calmness, Rogerfancied he detected in his forced repression the cry of a desperate,despairing heart. With a stride, he placed his hands on Ben’s shoulders.
“Look here, Stone,” he said urgingly, with an air of sincerefriendliness, “take me into your confidence and tell me what is thetrouble between you and Bern Hayden. Perhaps I can help you some way,and it won’t do any harm for you to trust me. You saved my littlesister from old Fletcher’s dogs, and I want to do something for you. Iwant to be your friend.”
Ben could not doubt the honest candor of his companion, but he shrunkfrom unbosoming himself, dreading to narrate the unpleasant story ofthe events which had made both Bern Hayden and his father hisuncompromising enemies and had forced him to flee like a criminal fromhis native village in order to escape being sent to the StateReformatory.
“Trust me, Stone,” pleaded Roger. “I don’t believe you’ll ever regretit.”
“All right!” exclaimed Ben suddenly; “I will—I’ll tell you everything.”
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