CHAPTER XI
WILLIAM PHILANDER TUBBS
As my old readers know, Putnam Hall was a handsome structure of brickand stone standing in the center of a large plot of ground, bounded ontwo sides by cedar woods. To the front was the campus and the wagon roadand beyond this a slope leading to the lake. To the rear were rich farmlands, cultivated solely for the benefit of the institution. Besides theschool, there were a building fitted up as a gymnasium, and also severalbarns and carriage houses. The Hall was built in the form of the letterE, and was three stories high. It contained numerous classrooms, aprivate office, a large mess hall, or dining room, and both large andsmall dormitories.
The master of the school was Captain Victor Putnam, who was a bachelor,and as kind as he was strict. Captain Putnam was a West Point graduate,and had modeled his school somewhat after that famous governmentinstitution. When the school was first organized the Rover boys did notgo there, but a number of other bright and lively lads did, and whatthese cadets accomplished has already been related in a line of storiescalled "The Putnam Hall Series," starting with "The Putnam Hall Cadets."These lads had some awful quarrels with the head assistant, JosiahCrabtree, and they were glad when the Rovers appeared and made it so hotfor Crabtree that he had to leave. George Strong was now first assistantin place of Crabtree, and the cadets found him a teacher after their ownheart.
"Hurrah! here are the Rovers!" was the cry from the campus. "Welcomeback!"
"Boys, I am glad to see you again," came from Captain Putnam, as heappeared at the front door and shook hands. "From what I have heard youhave had rather strenuous times during the past vacation."
"That is true, Captain," answered Dick. "I am glad to get back here."
"So am I glad," came from Tom and Sam, and all shook hands. Then theboys were told to go to the mess hall, where a hot supper awaited them.Here Mrs. Green met them with her round, ruddy and smiling face.
"It's wonderful stories I've heard of you," said the matron. "I declare,you'll have to go into a museum!"
"Not until after supper anyhow," answered Tom, dryly. And then everybodypresent laughed.
The supper over, the boys went up to their dormitory, and here as manyof the cadets as could crowded in, to talk over the doings of the pastvacation. Larry Colby had spent the time on the coast of Maine, andGeorge Granbury had been to the Thousand Islands and to Montreal.
"Yes, Crabtree is in Canada," said George. "I met him in Montreal, and Ican tell you, he looked seedy enough."
"Well, he deserves to be seedy," was Dick's comment. He could not forgethow the former teacher had endeavored to hypnotize the widow Stanhopeinto marrying him, so that he could gain possession of the money she washolding in trust for Dora.
Of course all the boys wanted to know about Dan Baxter, for he had beena leading character at the Hall for many years. Some shook their headsat the idea of the former bully reforming.
"It will be the greatest surprise I ever heard of," was Larry's comment.
"He'll do it--mark my words," said Dick.
"Let us hope so," said George.
"Well, it would seem that Putnam Hall is not to suffer for the want of abully," came from Fred. "We've got a new one here who is as bad as DanBaxter ever was."
"Who is he?" questioned Dick, with interest.
"A chap named Tad Sobber. He is a big, overbearing fellow with hardlyany education, and he wants to rule everybody. I can't understand howCaptain Putnam took him as a pupil."
"He came well recommended, that's why," answered Songbird. "But I guessthe captain has found out that the recommendation was false."
"He shan't rule me," said Tom, decidedly.
"We want no bullies here," put in Dick. "The day for all such is past."
"So say we all of us!" cried several cadets.
At that moment came a knock on the door, and a tall youth, wearing anunusually high collar and very large cuffs, came in.
"Well, if it isn't our old chum, William Philander Tubbs!" cried Dick,running forward and grasping the hand of the dude student.
"Hullo, Tubbsey, old man!" said Tom, gaily. "What's the price of thebest cologne now?"
"Very--ah--glad to meet you again," drawled Tubbs. "But--er--pleasedon't call me Tubbsey, because it isn't my name, don't you know."
"To be sure, Buttertub--I mean Washtub," answered Tom. "Had your haircrimped lately?"
"Now, Tom, I never crimp my hair--it hurts the color, don't you know,"explained William Philander. "I use----"
"Glue with an egg beater," finished Tom with a wink at his friends. "Bythe way, Tubblets, do you know what I heard some girls say last week?They said they thought you were a regular fashion plate."
"Now did they really?" gushed the dude, much pleased. "Who--er--saidit?"
"Two girls living not many miles from here."
"You--ah--don't happen to know their names?"
"No. But I can tell you all about them."
"Ah! Then please do, Tom," said the dude eagerly. To have any youngladies think of him pleased him immensely.
"Well, these are a couple of young ladies who work in a laundry. Maybethey wash your shirts. They are colored, and----"
"Colored!" gasped the dude, and then a shout of laughter went up, in themidst of which William Philander started to leave the room.
"Don't go away mad, Billy," cried Tom. "Isn't it nice even to have twodusky damsels think of you?"
"No, it is not--it is--is horrid!" answered William Philander. "I thinkyou are--er--poking fun at me."
"Never did such a thing in my life, my dear fellow--it's against myinternal regulations. But how have you been since the week before nextmonth?"
"I had a delightful vacation."
"Took the girls out to ice-cream sociables and yellow teas every day youwasn't playing golf or hop-scotch, I suppose."
"I--er--took the young ladies out some--we had glorious times, don't youknow. One moonlight night on Lake George I shall never forget, don't youknow. We were out in a tiny rowboat and the moon was sparkling over thewater, and Geraldine and I----"
"Lucky Geraldine!" sighed Tom. "And thrice lucky Philander Willander--Imean William Philander!"
"Can't you make up a poem about Geraldine, Songbird?" asked Sam.
"And don't forget to put in the moonlight," came from Dick.
"And the silvery waves, and murmuring breeze," added Fred.
"How much older than you is Geraldine, any how?" quizzed Tom.
"Geraldine is----"
"You haven't got to tell her age if she is over thirty, Billy," saidLarry. "Her age is sacred after that, you know."
"And don't tell us even if she has false teeth," came from Sam.
"And it doesn't make any real difference whether her hair is her own ornot."
"It's hers if it is paid for," said Tom. "You don't suppose a girl thatBilly would fall in love with would wear tresses that were stolen?"
"And to think she may be fat!" sighed Sam. "I hope she doesn't weighover two hundred, Willy."
"Oh dear me!" cried the dude, in desperation. "I want you toremember----"
"That she is yours and yours only," finished Tom. "Yes, nobody shallwalk in your corn patch, Bill--not over my dead body. But tellus--secretly if you must--does she wear a number eight shoe or atwelve?"
"If you don't stop your fooling----" gasped the dude.
"He is going to keep his dreadful secrets to himself," cried Tom,mournfully. "Alack! and too bad! But never mind, we'll all come to thewedding, Tubblets, and bring lemons if you say so?"
"Who said I was going to get married?"
"Is it to be a church affair or just a little private home gathering?"went on Tom, seriously. "If it's to be in a church, and you want us allfor rushers--I mean ushers, why----"
"We'll all be on the job," finished Dick. "Wouldn't miss the chance fora farm with a blind mule thrown in."
"Vots der madder mid me peing a flower girl?" asked Hans, grinningbroadly.
"No, Han
sy, you'll have to carry Billy's coat-tails for him," said Fred."The latest style from London, don't you know, is to have them trailingon behind like----"
"Oh, stop! stop!" screamed William Philander, putting his hands to hisears. "You are all perfectly horrid, don't you know! I'll not remainanother minute!" and he fled from the dormitory, the laughter of thecrowd ringing in his ears as he departed.
The Rover Boys on the Farm; or, Last Days at Putnam Hall Page 12