For the Honor of Randall: A Story of College Athletics

by Lester Chadwick

  CHAPTER XI

  THE WAY OF A MAID

  "Who's it from, Phil?"

  "Let's read it; will you?"

  "He doesn't dare?"

  These comments greeted the advent of Phil into the room of theinseparables, after a late lecture, one day about a week following theevents narrated in the last chapter. The cause was a pink envelope thatwas exposed in a prominent place on Phil's bureau--an envelope flankedby a comb, brush, a handkerchief box and a red tie, to be thus renderedall the more conspicuous. Tom, Sid and Frank, having entered the roomahead of their chum, and seeing the missive, had thus called hisattention to it.

  "What's all the excitement?" asked Phil innocently enough.

  "As if he didn't know!" jeered Tom.

  "I'll give you a quarter if you let me read it first," offered Frank.

  "Double it!" cried Sid promptly.

  "Oh, it's a letter," spoke Phil, as he strode over to his bureau andpicked up the missive. Then, with provoking slowness, he turned it over,scrutinized the postmark, looked at the dainty seal in wax, and made asif to place the letter back on the bureau.

  "Open it you rascal!" ordered Tom.

  "What for?" asked Phil slowly. "It's only a letter from sis. It willkeep until I get my coat off, I guess."

  "A letter from your sister--not!" declared Sid. "I--er--I know----"

  "Oh, you know her writing as well as all that, do you?" asked Philquickly. "I congratulate you. Maybe I'm wrong."

  Once more he scrutinized the address. It bore his name in big, andrather sprawling characters.

  "On second thoughts I guess it isn't from sis," he went on. "At leastshe didn't direct the envelope. It's from Madge Tyler, if I'm anyjudge."

  "What's she writing about?" Tom wanted to know quickly, so quickly thatthe others glanced at him, and Tom had the grace to blush.

  "We'll see," went on Phil. Then, with exasperating slowness he proceededto read the letter. Next he carefully folded it, placed it back in theenvelope, and proceeded to get into his lounging garments.

  "Well?" snapped Tom, unable to keep silent longer.

  "Oh, I don't know whether you fellows will be interested or not," saidPhil slowly. "The letter was from my sister, just as I guessed, but shegot Madge to direct the envelope."

  "But what's it about?" demanded Sid.

  "Oh, the annual May walk, which takes place the last of April, is aboutto be held at Fairview," went on Phil, "and sis thought maybe I'd liketo go with her."

  "You?" cried Tom.

  "Take your own sister?" added Sid.

  "Well, unless some one else relieves me----"

  "I will!" cried Frank and Sid together.

  "Thanks," laughed Phil. "Then I guess I can help some other brother out.But, say, do you fellows want to go? Sis said I could ask you all. It'sthe usual affair, you know. The young ladies of Fairview, under theeagle eye of Miss Philock and her aides, will go for a May walk, togather flowers and look on nature as she is supposed to be. There willbe a little basket lunch, and the usual screams when the girls thinkthey see a snake. Want to go?"

  "Sure!" cried Tom, and the others chorused an eager assent.

  "It will be a good time then, to ask the girls to come to the athleticmeet," said Sid. "They will come; won't they?"

  "Oh, I guess so," replied Phil. "They won't root for Randall, though,when there's going to be a team from their own school."

  "Oh, we couldn't expect it," said Tom. "But we'll have a good time onthe May walk." And forthwith he proceeded to look over his stock ofneckties.

  Not many at Randall were favored as were our four heroes in the matterof invitations to the May walk, and when it became known that Tom andhis chums had one of the coveted screeds, their good offices werebespoken on all sides, that they might use their influence for others.

  "Nothing doing," replied Tom to Holly Cross, Kindlings, and a few otherkindred spirits. "Sorry, but we can't do it."

  "And the nerve of Shambler," said Sid one afternoon, as he joined hischums. "He wanted to know if we couldn't introduce him to some new girlat Fairview. The one he did know, shook him."

  "He's getting worse all the while," declared Tom. "There is somethingabout that fellow that I can't cotton to."

  "But he's a good runner and jumper," declared Phil.

  "Altogether too good," declared Tom. "If he did as well at Harkness, ashe's doing here in practice, why did he leave?"

  "Maybe he wanted to get in a bigger college."

  "Harkness isn't much smaller than Randall, and it's got a heap sightmore money. He could have stayed on if he had wanted to," and Tom shookhis head. Two or three things in regard to Shambler recurred to him, andhe found himself seriously wondering whether or not there was not somemystery about the new student.

  "Oh, pshaw! I guess I'm getting too fussy," decided Tom. "I must seeabout getting my trousers pressed for that walk."

  Somewhat informally among themselves, the four lads had apportioned thefour girls. Tom was to take Madge, Phil would escort Helen Newton, Sidwould take Ruth Clinton, and Frank Simpson would look after MabelHarrison. This pleased the lads, but they had yet to ask the girls ifthis arrangement suited. To Tom was delegated this task, and oneafternoon he set off with three notes, his own to be a verbal message.

  The choice had fallen on his shoulders as he had the last lecture periodfree, and could make time to go to Fairview. It was with ratherpleasant feelings that our hero took the trolley to the co-educationalinstitution, and, when he neared the place, as it was such a fine day,he got out about a mile from his destination, deciding to walk the restof the way.

  As Tom turned down a grassy lane, that was rich in a carpet of green, heheard, coming from a clump of bushes just ahead of him, a cry of pain--acry in a girl's voice.

  "Some one's in trouble!" Tom decided at once, and, naturally he hurriedto the rescue. He saw, reaching up that she might pull a large cocoonfrom a high bush, a pretty girl, a stranger, but who bore unmistakablythe air of a Fairview student. In an instant Tom saw what the troublewas.

  The bush was one containing big thorns, and, in reaching for the cocoon,the girl's arm had caught on a sharp point. She was held by her sleevein such a way that either to advance her arm, or withdraw it, meant tofurther pierce her flesh with the thorn.

  "Oh!" she cried, and then Tom came on the scene.

  "Perhaps I can help you," he said, with a lifting of his hat. "Do youwant the cocoon?"

  "Yes. Oh, but don't mind that now! If you can break off the thorn, so Ican get my arm out----"

  A spasm of pain passed over her face, and Tom acted quickly. He woreheavy gloves, but the thorns pierced even through them. But he did notmind, and soon had broken away the offending branch, not before,however, the girl, in moving her arm, had inflicted a long scratch thatbled freely.

  "Oh!" she murmured, and she reeled a bit as she stepped back. "I--Ican't bear the sight of blood!" she added.

  Tom caught her, or she might have fainted, and then, being a lad ofpromptness, he quickly bound his handkerchief around the scratch.

  "If you will sit down here, I think I can get some water over at thathouse," he went on. "It will make you feel better."

  "Oh," she began, "it is such a bother--I'm so sorry."

  "Not at all," Tom hastened to assure her, and in a little while he wasback with a glass of water. It did make the girl feel better, and,presently, she arose.

  "I'm all right, now, thank you," she murmured, as she walked along. Tomwatched her narrowly. "I ought to have worn gloves, or else have broughtalong a pair of scissors," she went on. "We have to do some work in thenatural history class, and that's why I wanted the cocoon. I'm atFairview," she needlessly added.

  "I'm on my way there," spoke Tom. "My name is Parsons. Ruth Clinton'sbrother and I----"

  "Oh, I've heard about you," the girl interrupted with a smile that Tomthought was very attractive. "Ruth was telling me about you."

  "That's nice," laughed Tom, and then he caught sight
of the cocoon thathad been the cause of all the trouble. "Wait, I'll get it for you," hevolunteered, and he did though he scratched himself grievously on thethorns.

  "I'll walk on with you," he said, as he rejoined the girl. "I have anote for Ruth."

  "I'm Miss Benson," said the girl, simply. "I am sure I can't thank youenough, and I feel as if I already knew you."

  "Good!" cried Tom, wondering how it was he got along so well with girls,when he never before had been used to them.

  They walked on, talking of many things--and the May outing. The mainentrance of Fairview loomed in sight.

  "What shall I do about your handkerchief, Mr. Parsons?" asked MissBenson. "I'm afraid if I take it off now----"

  She started to do so, but at the sight of a little blood trickling downher wrist she shuddered.

  "Keep it on," advised Tom. "You can send it to me later. Perhaps you hadbetter have a doctor look at the scratch. It may need treatment. Some ofthose thorns are poisonous."

  Instinctively he leaned over and began tightening the handkerchief onthe girl's wrist. He was engaged in this rather delicate task when, frombehind a clump of shrubbery, stepped four maids. In an instant Tom knewthem for Phil's sister and her three chums. They regarded him and hiscompanion curiously.

  "Why--it's Tom!" exclaimed Ruth impulsively.

  "Yes. He--he helped me out of a bad predicament," explained Miss Benson."I was caught on a thorn bush. I've scratched my wrist dreadfully,girls."

  "Oh!" exclaimed Miss Tyler, rather blankly, and Tom thought it wasstrange that none of the girls seemed to take much interest in MissBenson's injury. She herself smiled at Tom, and then said:

  "I'll go along now, to the infirmary. I'm _so_ much obliged to you. I'llsend the handkerchief back. It was so fortunate for me that I met you."

  "She generally manages to meet _somebody_," murmured Miss Harrison, andTom wondered more than ever as he lifted his hat in farewell.

  "How are you?" greeted Tom, to Ruth and the others. "I'm a sort ofspecial messenger to-day."

  He pulled out his letters--one for Ruth, one for Mabel, and one forHelen.

  "None for me?" asked Madge, in mock distress.

  "I--er--I came in person," spoke Tom in a low voice, as he saw that theothers were perusing the epistles that formally besought the company ofthe young ladies on the May walk.

  "Oh----" began Miss Tyler.

  "May I have the honor of escorting you on the outing?" asked Tom,laughing to take out the formality of his request.

  Miss Madge Tyler looked at him a moment. Then her gaze seemed to wandertoward the retreating form of Miss Benson. Tom waited, wonderingly.

  "I thank you," said Madge, a bit stiffly, "but I--am already engaged,"and she turned aside, while Tom swallowed hard.

  Clearly he was but beginning to know the way of a maid.