“Sounds like business, what?” asked Spud of Cal as he read the notice in School Building Monday morning. “Say, I hope Brooksie won’t take it out on The Fungus2 for that beastly fumble3. Wasn’t that the meanest luck ever? Between you and me, Cal, Fungus ought to have recovered that ball. He had lots of time. It looked like a case of stage-fright. I guess Fungus was so horrified4 at what he’d done he couldn’t move for a second. But he will make good all right if Brooksie doesn’t take him off today. But I don’t believe he will. Cap has got a whole lot of common-sense. I guess that’s one thing that makes him such a dandy captain.”
Spud was right in his surmise5. The Fungus went back to his place at left half-back that[285] afternoon just as though there hadn’t been any fumble. The only change made was in the substitution of Folsom for Boyle at full. It was the hardest practice of the season and lasted until it was almost too dark to see the ball with any certainty. Brooks was trying to make his machine run smoother. All the parts were there and they represented plenty of power, but so far the full power hadn’t materialized. A football team is like, we will say, an engine which is rated at twenty horse-power. If the engine runs smoothly6 it will develop its twenty, but if the parts aren’t assembled just right, if each one isn’t timed exactly with the others, there’s a loss of power and the twenty is perhaps no better than a fifteen. So it was with the House Team. Brooks, who had, as Spud said, a lot of common-sense—and a good deal of football sense added to it—realized that his team represented the best of the material at hand and that if it was to develop the power of which it was capable it must be perfectly7 adjusted. So that afternoon and every other afternoon that week the constant cry was “Get together!” The back-field was the chief offender8. Play after play was pulled off—the team had a repertoire9 of fourteen at this stage—and[286] always someone was too early or too late. Brooks argued and explained and pleaded and scolded. Ned gave way to H. Westlake at right half and Morris took M’Crae’s place at quarter, and still things went wrong. Hoop10 went into the line for Brooks so that the captain might coach from back of the team. A thing that exasperated11 Brooks was that over on the Hall gridiron the rival team was running through its signals with all the smoothness that the House eleven lacked. But Rome wasn’t built in a day and Brooks told himself that it was something accomplished12 if he had only made the fellows understand what was wanted. Perhaps tomorrow or the next day they would put his preaching into practice. It was a very tired group of players and substitutes that trailed back to the gymnasium at dusk. The Hall Team had long since disappeared and they had the gymnasium to themselves. Brooks, attired13 scantily14 in a generous bath towel, spoke15 a few words to his weary team-mates on his way to the shower.
“You fellows can play this game the way it ought to be played,” he said, “play it well enough to lick Hall. But you won’t until you can get it into your heads that a football team[287] isn’t made up of eleven fellows each acting16 for himself but of eleven fellows acting like one. You know your plays but you don’t know how to use them. That’s what the trouble is. Hall hasn’t any better material than we have in spite of the fact that she has more fellows to draw from. But Hall gets together. The line and the ends and the backs work like so many different parts of a watch, and the result is nice smooth football. You fellows in the line are doing pretty well, but the backs aren’t helping17 you along. Now tomorrow I want to see this team take hold and run through its plays like clock-work. If it doesn’t there’s going to be another victory for Hall on Saturday. I’m doing all I can. Now it’s up to you fellows.”
Brooks disappeared into the bath and there was a sound of rushing water beyond the canvas curtain. That’s all the sound there was for a minute. Then Brad Miller18 whistled a tune19 softly and stole bathward and one after another the rest followed, as many as there was room for, while the balance waited, subdued20 and chastened.
On Tuesday practice was no less vigorous, but Brooks let them off after an hour and a[288] quarter. There was some improvement noticeable. Cal got in at left tackle for a while and did very well; so well that Dutch, relegated21 to the substitutes, looked distinctly anxious. It was almost supper time when West House reached home. On the steps sat Molly, a red ribbon pinned to the front of her gown in honor of the Houses. Mrs. Linn had been talking to her from the doorway22 but hurried kitchenward when the boys appeared.
“Didn’t see you at practice, Molly,” said Ned, throwing himself down wearily on the steps.
“No, I didn’t go today,” answered Molly. “I was teaching Clara tennis.”
“What? Well, you must be getting on!”
“I don’t play very well, of course, Ned, but I know what you have to do. And that’s what I was showing Clara.”
“Oh, I see. Where is he?” Ned looked about him.
“He—he went upstairs.” Molly hesitated and looked troubled. “He got hit with a ball.”
“How awful!” laughed Spud. “Did it kill him?”
“N-no, but it made his nose bleed. It hit him right square on the nose.”
[289]
“Why, Molly!” said Spud in shocked tones. “Is that the way you treat your opponents? You ought to be playing football instead of tennis.”
“I didn’t mean to, Spud. I just hit a ball across and he was leaning over the net quite near and didn’t see it coming. It—it bled horribly.”
“Well, he will be all right,” Sandy said comfortingly. “Accidents will happen on the best regulated courts.”
“Just the same,” observed Spud, “it isn’t considered sportsmanlike to maim23 your enemy, Molly.” But Molly looked so troubled that Spud stopped his efforts at teasing. “I see you’re wearing the right color, Molly.”
“So is Clara,” murmured Ned.
“Yes, but if you don’t beat the Hall next Saturday I’m going to wear blue,” she answered. There was a groan24 of protest at that.
“We’re going to win, though,” said Spud sturdily, “aren’t we, Cal?”
“I cal’late we’ll put up a good fight,” was the cautious reply.
“We’re going to win,” said The Fungus vehemently25 as he got up. “That’s what we’re going to do. Now I’ll go up and see how[290] Clara’s nose is behaving. I hope it isn’t damaged. It’s a nice little nose.”
It wasn’t damaged, but it presented a reddened and swollen26 appearance when Clara brought it to the supper table a few minutes later. He had to put up with a good deal of ragging from the others.
“I shall have to tell Molly to be more careful with you,” said Spud. “You’re not used to the gentle ways of women, Clara.”
The incident, however, brought about more trouble for Molly than for her victim, for the following noon, when Cal returned from morning school, Molly called to him from beyond the lilac hedge that separated the two houses.
“Hello,” he said as he went over, “what’s the matter with you?” For Molly looked extremely depressed27.
“They won’t let me go out of the yard today,” she said mournfully. “And Hoop was going to play tennis with me after dinner.”
“Why won’t they?” Cal demanded.
“Because I told them about Clara’s nose and Aunt Matilda said I was to stay at home until I had learned to be more careful and lady-like. And I told her I didn’t mean to do it, too!”
[291]
“That’s a shame,” said Cal warmly. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“Aunt Matilda says I’m harum-scarum,” sighed Molly. “Do you think I am, Cal?”
“I—I cal—I guess I don’t just know what that is,” he answered. “How long have you got to stay in the yard?”
“I don’t know. All of today, anyhow. Why, what have you done to your coat, Cal Boland?”
“That? That’s just a tear,” replied Cal. “Hoop and I were tussling this morning.”
“You must have it mended or it will get worse. Haven’t you another suit you can put on?”
“Only my Sunday one.”
“Then you’d better buy one at once,” she said severely28. “That isn’t fit to be seen in, Cal. All the other boys look so nice, too.”
Cal viewed as much of his suit as was in sight to him and shook his head ruefully.
“I cal’late I’ve got to,” he said. “Seems like I get into a lot of trouble with my clothes. This was a perfectly good suit when I came here.” Molly laughed.
“Well, it’s perfectly good for nothing now.[292] Get a dark suit, Cal, won’t you? You’d look so much nicer in dark clothes.”
“That’s what Ned said. Dark clothes show dirt, though, don’t they?”
“They couldn’t show much more dirt than those do,” replied Molly scornfully. “Just look at them! You ought to be ashamed to be seen in them.”
Cal looked a trifle surprised and a little ashamed.
“I guess they are pretty bad,” he muttered. “I can have them cleaned, though, can’t I?”
“I suppose so, but they’ll never be real nice again. You could wear them as a sort of second-best, Cal.”
“Y-yes. It’s sort of a bother, though, having two suits, I guess. You’d always have to be changing.”
But when he left her, bearing a message to Hoop, he went up to his room and composed a letter to his mother in which he explained the necessity for new clothes and asked her to send him twelve dollars. Cal had been to the village but once since his arrival at school and consequently he still retained most of his two dollars and eighty-five cents, and some of this, he calculated, could be added to the twelve dollars if[293] necessary. In the matter of shoes he had been lucky. His own were showing signs of giving out, and when Dutch had offered him the loan of a pair of baseball shoes, with cleated soles, Cal had thankfully accepted. These he wore when he played football, so saving his own shoes a deal of hard usage. The reply to his letter came promptly29 two days later.
“You’ll be wanting other things besides a suit,” wrote his mother, “and so I send you fifteen dollars instead of the twelve you asked for. Don’t forget to have your hair cut every three weeks. It will soon be time for winter underwear and you are to put on the old ribbed ones first. They are very warm but won’t last long. When you come home at Christmas time I will get you another suit of them. Does Mrs. Linn keep your socks darned up for you? And do you need more socks yet, I wonder. There are some gray wool ones here that belonged to your father but maybe they would be too thick for you. Are your shoes holding out? You were always hard on shoes. Have them mended before they go to pieces. I am glad you are getting on so well with your studies and like your school so much. I wouldn’t play football very often. The papers are full of accidents[294] to boys playing football. It must be a very rough game. Nancy is well except for a cold on her chest and sends love to you....”
There was no practice Friday afternoon, and Cal went shopping. He wanted to ask Ned where to look for his suit, but couldn’t bring himself to do it. He did ask Spud, but Spud had never purchased clothing other than boots and stockings and ties in Woodfield and his advice was vague.
“I guess I’d go to the big store opposite the Post Office,” he said. “I forget the name, but you’ll find it all right.”
[295]
Cal buys a new suit of clothes
[296-
297]
Cal was hoping that Spud would offer to accompany him, but Spud was looking over a few rusty30 golf clubs and waiting for Brad Miller to call and take him over to the links. So Cal went off by himself. He had never bought a suit of clothes unassisted and was filled with misgivings31. But they were extraordinarily32 polite and attentive33 at Simmons’s Boston Store and it was all over before he knew it and he was trudging34 back to West House with a big pasteboard box under his arm. The clerk had offered to deliver it for him in the morning, but Cal, now that he had made the purchase, was eager to get it home and have a good look at himself in the mirror. The house was empty when he reached it, although Hoop and Clara and Molly were playing tennis outside. He tried the new suit on and looked it over. It was necessary to get on to a chair in order to see the bottoms of the trousers and when he saw them Cal had a vague suspicion that they terminated with far too many wrinkles. He wished he might have Ned’s opinion on them. At least, though, he had followed advice and bought a dark suit, and one, too, that wouldn’t easily show dirt. The goods was a strange mixture of black and white, the white consisting of faint lines forming a double plaid. In effect the suit was dark gray, almost an Oxford35 at a distance. The surface was quite rough and seemed to contain more than an ordinary share of tiny splinters of wood.
The clothes didn’t look nearly as natty37 as they had at the store and the coat had a perverse38 way of settling away from his neck at the back. Also, the vest—waistcoat, the man had called it—was decidedly tight across his chest. He wondered whether Marm couldn’t set the top button over a little for him. No,[298] on the whole, he wasn’t nearly so satisfied with his purchase as he had been at the Boston Store, but he cal’lated it would do. He guessed it would have to! He got out of it and hung it up in the closet and stowed the box on a shelf. Tomorrow he would put it on and have Marm mend the suit he was wearing. Then he would have it cleaned, if they didn’t ask too much, and perhaps it would last him until Christmas. There was one thing to be said for his new clothes, he reflected as he made his way downstairs, and that was that they had cost him even less than he had dared hope for. Nine dollars and eighty-five cents wasn’t much for a whole suit. And he had almost eight dollars left! He cal’lated—no, he guessed he wasn’t such a poor shopper after all!
Downstairs he found that most of West House had returned and were watching the tennis. Only Dutch and Spud were absent.
“Hello, Cal,” was the greeting of The Fungus. “What you been doing? Grinding?”
“I’ve been down town,” answered Cal.
“Thunder! Wish I could go. But what’s the use when you haven’t any coin? Did you bring anything home with you? Any peanuts or chocolate, Cal?” But Cal shook his head.
[299]
“I just bought a suit of clothes,” he said.
“Really?” The news seemed to affect them all, The Fungus, Ned and Sandy, with lively interest and surprise. “Think of that! Why, Cal, you’ll be a regular Beau Brummel.”
Cal didn’t know what that was, but he smiled good-naturedly. “It’s just a cheap suit,” he explained. “This one’s getting sort of shabby.”
“Now that you speak of it,” laughed Sandy, “it does seem a bit worn about the edges.”
“Where’d you buy it?” asked Ned gruffly.
“Simmons’s.”
“Could have asked, couldn’t you?”
“I didn’t want to.” Sandy and The Fungus exchanged glances. That something was very wrong between Ned and Cal had been apparent for some time, but what it was no one could guess.
“Bet you you got stung,” said Ned with more than a trace of satisfaction in his tones.
“I don’t cal’late I did,” answered Cal calmly. “I only paid nine eighty-five.”
[300]
Further discussion of the subject was stopped by Molly, Hoop and Clara, who had finished their set and now joined the others on the steps.
“He only beat us six to three,” announced Molly triumphantly41, nodding at Hoop. “Don’t you think we did pretty well?”
“I guess it would have been closer if I hadn’t been in it,” said Clara.
“You did splendidly! Didn’t he, Hoop?”
“He will learn all right, Molly.”
“Didn’t hit you on the nose again, did they?” asked Ned. Clara reddened and shook his head.
“I guess I never will,” Molly laughed. “It cost me two days in jail.”
“It was a pretty big jail,” said Cal.
“Yes, but it seems pretty small when you know you can’t get out of it!”
“By the way, Molly,” asked The Fungus, “did you ever dream what had become of Ned’s money?” Molly’s face fell and she sighed.
“N-no, not exactly. I tried three times, too. The first time—that was Sunday night, you know—I did dream something but I couldn’t quite remember it in the morning.”[301] She wrinkled her forehead. “It was something, though, about apples; and Cal was in it, too. But I don’t seem to remember dreaming about the money.”
“Funny you should have dreamed of apples,” laughed Sandy.
“Not half as funny as dreaming about Cal,” said Hoop. “What you had was a nightmare, Molly.”
“Produced by too many pippins,” added The Fungus.
“I’m going to try again,” she said cheerfully. “I’m sure that was a perfectly good dream—if I only could have remembered it.”
“Sure,” agreed Ned soothingly42. “Like the Irishman’s horse. It was a perfectly good horse, only it was dead.”
[302]
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brooks
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| n.小溪( brook的名词复数 ) | |
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fungus
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| n.真菌，真菌类植物 | |
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fumble
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| vi.笨拙地用手摸、弄、接等，摸索 | |
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horrified
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| a.(表现出)恐惧的 | |
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surmise
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| v./n.猜想，推测 | |
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smoothly
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| adv.平滑地，顺利地，流利地，流畅地 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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offender
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| n.冒犯者，违反者，犯罪者 | |
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repertoire
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| n.(准备好演出的)节目，保留剧目；(计算机的)指令表，指令系统， <美>(某个人的)全部技能；清单，指令表 | |
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hoop
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exasperated
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accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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attired
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| adj.穿着整齐的v.使穿上衣服，使穿上盛装( attire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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scantily
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| adv.缺乏地；不充足地；吝啬地；狭窄地 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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helping
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miller
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tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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subdued
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relegated
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| v.使降级( relegate的过去式和过去分词 )；使降职；转移；把…归类 | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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maim
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groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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vehemently
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swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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depressed
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| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
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severely
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| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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misgivings
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| n.疑虑，担忧，害怕；疑虑，担心，恐惧( misgiving的名词复数 )；疑惧 | |
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extraordinarily
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attentive
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| adj.注意的，专心的；关心(别人)的，殷勤的 | |
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trudging
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| vt.& vi.跋涉，吃力地走（trudge的现在分词形式） | |
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Oxford
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lumber
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| n.木材，木料；v.以破旧东西堆满；伐木；笨重移动 | |
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natty
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| adj.整洁的，漂亮的 | |
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perverse
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| adj.刚愎的；坚持错误的，行为反常的 | |
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grunted
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| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的过去式和过去分词 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说 | |
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meekly
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| adv.温顺地，逆来顺受地 | |
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triumphantly
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| ad.得意洋洋地；得胜地；成功地 | |
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soothingly
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| adv.抚慰地，安慰地；镇痛地 | |
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