Andy at Yale
R >> Roy Eliot Stokes >> Andy at Yale"What's this--a handkerchief box?" asked Ted, picking up one covered
with black and gold lacquer.
"Handkerchief box! Shades of Koami!" cried Ikey. "That, you dunce, is a
box made to----Oh, you tell him, Hashmi, I haven't the heart."
"No, he wants to figure out how much he's made on us," added Andy.
"That box--he is for the retaining of the messages from the departed,"
explained the Japanese.
"You mean it's a spiritualist cabinet?" demanded Thad. "I say now, will
it do the rapping trick?"
"You misapprehend me," murmured Hashmi. "I mean that you conserve in
that the letters your ancestors may have written you. But of a
courseness you might put in it your nose beautifiers if you wish, and
perfume them."
"Nose beautifiers--he means handkerchiefs," explained Ikey. "It's a
bargain--only three dollars."
"I'll take it," spoke Thad. "I know a girl I can give it to. No
objection to putting a powder puff in it; is there, Hashmi?"
"Of a surely, no."
More of the wares from the big box were displayed and the two other lads
took something. Then Dunk insisted on having another look, and bought
several "vawses," as Ikey insisted on calling them.
"They'll look swell in the room, eh, Andy? he asked.
"They sure will. I only hope there's no more rough house or you'll be
out several dollars."
"If those rusty sophs smash any of this stuff I'll go to the dean about
it!" threatened Dunk, well knowing, however, that he would not.
"Such bargains! Such bargains!" whispered Ikey, as he let them out of
the side door, first glancing up and down the dark alley to make sure
that no other college lads were lying in wait to demand their share of
the precious stuff. The coast was clear and Andy and his chums slipped
out, carrying their purchases.
"Are you coming?" Dunk asked of Ikey.
"No, I'll stay and help Hashmi pack up the things. If you want any more
let me know."
"Huh! You mean you'll stay and count up how much you've stuck us!" said
Dunk. "Oh, well, it looks like nice stuff. But I've got enough for the
present. I've overdrawn my allowance as it is."
"Well, we'll leave this junk in your room, Andy, and then go out and
have some fun," suggested Thad.
They piled their purchases on the beds in Andy's and Dunk's room in
Wright Hall and then proceeded on to Burke's place, an eating and
drinking resort for many students.
There was a crowd there when Andy and his chums entered and they were
noisily greeted.
"Oh, you Dunk!"
"Over here! Lots of room!"
"Waiter, five more cold steins!"
"None for me!" said Andy with a smile.
"That's all right--he's trying for the team," someone said, in a low
tone.
"Oh!"
Through the haze of the smoke of many pipes Andy saw some of the
football crowd. They were all taking "soft stuff," which he himself
ordered.
Then began an evening of jollity and clean fun. It was rather rough, and
of the nature of horseplay, of course, and perhaps some of the lads did
forget themselves a little, but it was far from being an orgy.
"I'm going to pull out soon," spoke Andy to Dunk, when an hour or so had
passed.
"Oh, don't be in a rush. I'll be with you in a little while."
"All right, I'll wait."
Again to Andy had come the idea that he might, after all, prove a sort
of "brother's keeper" to his chum.
The fun grew faster and more furious, but there was a certain line that
was never overstepped, and for this Andy was glad.
The door opened to admit another throng, and Andy saw Mortimer and
several of his companions of the fast set. How Gaffington kept up the
pace and still managed to retain his place on the football team was a
mystery to many. He had wonderful recuperative powers, though, and was
well liked by a certain element.
"Hello, Dunk!" he greeted Andy's roommate. "You're looking pretty fit."
"Same to you--though you look as though you'd been having one."
"So I have--rather strenuous practice to-day. Oh, there's the fellow who
did me up!" and he looked at Andy and, to our hero's surprise, laughed.
"It's all right, old man--no hard feelings," went on Mortimer. "Will you
shake?"
"Sure!" exclaimed Andy, eagerly. He was only too anxious not to have any
enmity.
"Put her there! Shake!" exclaimed the other. "You shook me and I shook
you. No hard feelings, eh?"
"Of course not!"
"That's all right then. Fellows, I'll give you one--Andy Blair--a good
tackier!" and Mortimer raised his glass on high.
"Andy Blair! Oh, you Andy! Your eye on us!"
And thus was Andy pledged by his enemy. What did it mean?
Faster grew the fun. The room was choking blue with tobacco smoke, and
Andy wanted to get away.
"Come on, Dunk," he said. "Let's pull out. We've got some stiff
recitations to-morrow."
"All right, I'm willing."
Mortimer saw them start to leave, and coming over put his arm
affectionately around Dunk.
"Oh, you're not going!" he expostulated. "Why, it's early yet and the
fun's just starting. Don't be a quitter!"
Dunk flushed. He was not used to being called that.
"Yes, stay and finish out," urged others.
Andy felt that it was a crisis. Yet he could say nothing. Dunk seemed
undecided for a moment, and Mortimer renewed his pleadings.
"Be a sport!" he cried. "Have a good time while you're living--you're a
long time dead!"
There was a moment's hush. Then Dunk gently removed Mortimer's arm and
said:
"No, I'm going back with Blair. Come on, Andy."
And they went out together.
CHAPTER XV
DUNK GOES OUT
"Look at that!"
"Why, it's the same stuff!"
"There's a rose jar like the one I bought for seven dollars marked two
seventy-five!"
"Oh, the robber! Why, there's a handkerchief box, bigger than the one he
stuck me with, and it's only a dollar!"
"Say, let's rough-house Ikey and that Jap!"
Andy, Dunk, and their three friends were standing in front of a Japanese
store, looking in the window, that held many articles associated with
the Flowery Kingdom. Price tags were on them, and the lads discovered
that they had paid dearly for the ornaments they had so surreptitiously
viewed in the semi-darkness, under the guidance of Ikey Stein.
This was several days after they had purchased their bric-a-brac and
meanwhile they had seen Ikey and Hashmi going about getting other
students into their toils.
"Say, that was a plant, all right!" declared Dunk. "I'm going to make
Ikey shell out."
"And the Jap, too!" added Andy. "We sure were stuck!"
For the articles in the window were identical, in many cases, with those
they had bought, but the prices were much less.
"I thought there was something fishy about it," commented Thad. "Never
again do I buy a pig in a poke!"
"I'll poke Ikey when I catch him," said Bob.
"Here he comes now," spoke Ted, in a low voice. "Don't seem to see him
until he gets close, and then we'll grab him and make him shell out!"
So the five remained looking steadfastly in the window until the
unsuspecting Ikey came close. Then Andy and Dunk made a quick leap and
caught him.
"What--what is it?" asked the surprised student.
"We merely want your advice on the purchase of some more art objects,"
said Andy, grimly. "You're such an expert, you know."
"Some other time--some other time! I'm due at a lecture now!" pleaded
Ikey, squirming to get away.
"The lecture can wait," said Dunk. "Look at that vawse for the holding
of the rose petals from your loved one. See it there--now would you
advise me to buy it? It's much cheaper than the one you and your
beloved Hashmi stuck me with."
Ikey looked at the faces of his captors. He saw only stern, unrelenting
glares, and realized that his game had been discovered.
"I--er--I----" he stammered.
"Come, what's your advice?" demanded Dunk. "Did I pay too much?"
"I--er--perhaps you did," admitted Ikey, slowly.
"Then fork over the balance."
"And what about my cracker jar--for the ashes of dead ancestors?" asked
Andy. "Was I stuck, too?"
"Oh, no, not at all. Why, that is a very rare piece."
"What about that one in the window?" demanded Andy. "That's only rare to
the tune of several dollars less than I paid."
"Oh, but you are mistaken!" Ikey assured him. "It takes an expert to
tell the difference. You can ask Hashmi----"
"Hashmi be hanged!" cried Dunk, giving the captured one a shake. A
little crowd had gathered in the street to see the fun.
"I--I'll give you whatever you think is right," promised Ikey. "Only let
me go. I shall be late."
"The late Mr. Stein," laughed Andy.
"What about the rare satsuma piece you wished onto me?" demanded Ted.
"And that cloisonne flower vawse that has a crack in it?" Thad wanted to
know.
"That's because it's so old," whined Ikey. "It is more valuable."
"There's one in the window without a crack for three dollars less," was
the retort.
"Oh, well, if you fellows are dissatisfied with your bargains----"
"Oh, we're not going to back down," said Andy, "but we're not going to
pay more than they're worth, either. It was a plant, and you know it.
Now you shell out all we paid above what the things are marked at in
this window, and we'll call it square--that is, if you don't go around
blabbing how you took us in."
"All right! All right!" cried Ikey. "I'll do it, only let me go!"
"No; pay first! Run him over to our rooms," suggested Dunk. They were
not far from the quadrangle, and catching hold of Ikey they ran him
around into High Street and through the gateway beside Chittenden Hall
to Wright. There, up in Andy's and Dunk's room, Ikey was made to
disgorge his cash. But they were merciful to him and only took the
difference in price.
"Now you tell us how it happened, and we'll let you go," promised Andy.
"It was all Hashmi's fault," declared Ikey. "I believed him when he said
his brother in Japan had sent him a box of fine vawses. Hashmi said he
didn't need 'em all, and I said maybe we could sell 'em. So I did."
"That was all right; but why did you stick up the price?" asked Andy.
"A fellow has to make money," returned Ikey, innocently enough, and Dunk
laughed.
"All right," said Andy's roommate. "Don't do it again, that's all. Who
is Hashmi's brother?"
"One of 'em keeps that Jap store where you were looking in the window,"
said Ikey, edging out of the room, "and the other is in Japan. He sent
the stuff over to be sold in the regular way, but that sly Hashmi fooled
me. Never again!"
"And you passed it on to us," said Andy with a laugh.
"Well, it's all in the game."
"Still, we've got the stuff," said Ted.
They had, but had they known it all they would have learned that, even
at the lowered price they were paying dearly enough for the ornaments,
and at that Hashmi and Ikey divided a goodly sum between them.
The college days passed on. Andy and Dunk were settling down to the
grind of study, making it as easy as they could for themselves, as did
the other students.
Andy kept on with his football practice, and made progress. He was named
as second substitute on the freshman team and did actually play through
the fourth quarter in an important game, after it had been taken safely
into the Yale camp. But he was proud even to do that, and made a field
goal that merited him considerable applause.
Mortimer had dropped out of the varsity team. There was good reason, for
he would not train, and, though he could play brilliantly at times, he
could not be depended on.
"I don't care!" he boasted to his sporting crowd. "I can have some fun,
now."
Several times he and his crowd had come around to ask Dunk to go out
with them, but Dunk had refused, much to Mortimer's chagrin.
"Oh, come on, be a good fellow!" he had urged.
"No, I've got to do some boning."
"Oh, forget it!"
But Dunk would not, for which Andy was glad.
Then came a period when Dunk went to pieces in his recitations. He was
warned by his professors and tried to make up for it by hard study. He
was not naturally brilliant and certain lessons came hard to him.
He grew discouraged and talked of withdrawing. Andy did all he could for
him, even to the neglect of his own standing, but it seemed to do no
good.
"What's the use of it all, anyhow?" demanded Dunk. "I'll spend four
mortal years here, and come out with a noddle full of musty old Latin
and Greek, go to work in dad's New York office and forget it all in six
months. I might as well start forgetting it now."
"You've got the wrong idea," said Andy.
"Well, maybe I have. Hanged if I see how you do it!"
"I don't do so well."
"But you don't get floored as I do! I'm going to chuck it!" and he threw
his Horace across the room, shattering the Japanese vase he had bought.
"Look out!" cried Andy.
"Too late! I don't give a hang!"
Someone came along the hall.
"What are you fellows up to?" asked a gay voice. "Trying to break up
housekeeping?"
"It's Gaffington!" murmured Andy.
"Come on in!" invited Dunk.
"You fellows come on out!" retorted the newcomer. "There's a peach of a
show at Poli's. Let's take it in and have supper at Burke's afterward."
Dunk got up.
"Hanged if I don't!" he said, with a defiant look at Andy.
"That's the stuff! Be a sport!" challenged Mortimer. "Coming along,
Blair?"
"No."
Mortimer laughed.
"Go down among the dead ones!" he cried. "Come on, Dunk, we'll make a
night of it!"
And they went out together, leaving Andy alone in the silent room.
CHAPTER XVI
IN BAD
The clock was ticking. To Andy it sounded as loud as a timepiece in a
tower. The rhythmic cadence seemed to fill the room. Somewhere off in
the distance a bell boomed out--a church bell.
Andy sat in a brown study, looking into the fireplace. A little blaze
was going on the hearth, and the young student, gazing at the embers saw
many pictures there.
For some time Andy sat without stirring. He had listened to the
retreating footsteps of Dunk and Mortimer as the boys passed down the
corridor, laughing.
Through Wright Hall there echoed other footsteps--coming and
going--there was the sound of voices in talk and in gay repartee.
Students called one to the other, or in groups hurried here and there,
intent on pleasure. Andy sat there alone--thinking--thinking.
A log in the fireplace broke with a suddenness that startled him. A
shower of sparks flew up the chimney, and a little puff of smoke shot
out into the room. Andy roused himself.
"Oh, hang it all!" he exclaimed aloud. "Why should I care? Let him go
with that crowd--with Mort and his bunch if he likes. What difference
does it make to me?"
He stood up, his arm on the mantel where had rested the Japanese vase
purchased so mysteriously. Now only the fragments of it were there.
A comparison between that shattered vase and what might be the shattered
friendship between himself and his roommate came to Andy, but he
resolutely thrust it aside.
"What difference does it make to me?" he asked himself. "Let him go his
own way, and I'll go mine."
He crossed to the book rack on the window sill, intending to do some
studying. On the broad stone ledge outside the casement he kept his
bottle of spring water. It was a cooler place than the room. Andy poured
himself out a drink, and as he sipped it he said again:
"Why should I care what he does?"
Then, from off in the distance he heard the chimes of a church, playing
"Adestes Fideles."
He stood listening--entranced as the tones came to him, softened by the
night air.
And there seemed to whisper to him a still, small voice that asked:
"Am I my brother's keeper?"
Andy shut the window softly, and, going back to his chair sat staring
into the fire. It was dying down, the embers settling into the dead
ashes. It was very still and quiet in the little room. All Wright Hall
was very still and quiet now.
"I--I guess I'll have to care--after all," whispered Andy.
Footsteps were heard coming along the corridor, and, for a moment Andy
had a wild hope that it might be Dunk returning. But as he listened he
knew it was not his chum.
Someone knocked on the door.
"Come!" called Andy sharply. It could be none of his friends, he knew.
A messenger entered with a note, and, observing an unfamiliar
handwriting, Andy wondered from whom it could be. He ripped it open and
uttered an exclamation. He read:
"Dear Mr. Blair:
"I am doing a little engagement at Poli's. Won't you drop around
and see me? I promise not to compel you to play the fireman.
"Sincerely yours,
"MAZIE FULLER."
"Jove!" murmured Andy. "I forgot all about her."
"Any answer?" asked the messenger.
"No."
The boy started out.
"Oh, yes. Wait a minute." Andy scribbled an acceptance.
"Here," he said, and handed the boy a quarter.
"T'anks!" exclaimed the urchin. Then with a roguish glance he added:
"Gee, but you college guys is great!"
"Hop along!" commanded Andy briefly.
Should he go, after all? He had said he would and yet----
"Oh, hang it! I guess I'd better go!" he said aloud, just as though he
had not intended to all along. He turned up the light and began throwing
about a pile of neckties. He tried first one and then another. None
seemed to satisfy him, and when he did get the hue that suited him it
would not allow itself to be properly tied.
"Oh, rats!" Andy exclaimed. "Why should I care?"
Why indeed? It is one of the mysteries. "Vanity of vanities" and the
rest of it.
As he entered Poli's Andy was aware that something unusual was going on.
The ushers were grinning with good-natured tolerance, but there was
rather an anxious look on the faces of some of the women in the
audience. Some of their male escorts appeared resentful.
Andy had been obliged to purchase a box seat, as there were no vacant
ones in the body of the house. As he sank into his chair, rather back,
for the box was well filled, he saw a college classmate.
"What's up?" he asked, the curtain then being down to allow of a change
of scene.
"Oh, Gaffington and his crowd are joshing some of the acts."
"Any row?"
"No, everybody takes it good-naturedly. Bunch of our fellows here
to-night."
"Show any good?"
"Pretty fair. Some of the things are punk. There's a good number
coming--Mazie Fuller--she's got a new act. And Bodkins--you know the
tramp juggler--the one who does things with cigar boxes--he's coming on
next. He's a scream."
"Yes, I know him. He's all right."
The curtain went up and from the wings came Miss Fuller. She had
prospered in vaudeville, it seemed, for she had on a richer costume than
the one she wore when she had been so nearly burned to death.
She was well received, and while singing her first number she looked
about the house. Presently she caught the eyes of Andy--he had leaned
forward in the box, perhaps purposely. Miss Fuller smiled at him, and
at once a chorus of cries arose from the students in the different parts
of the theater. Up to then, since Andy's entrance, there had been no
commotion. Now it broke out again.
"Oh, get on to that!"
"The lad with the dreamy eyes!"
"Oh, you Andy Blair!"
Andy sank back blushing, but Miss Fuller took it in good part.
Her act went on, and was well received. She did not again look at Andy,
possibly fearing to embarrass him. And then, as she retired after her
last number--a veritable whirlwind song--there came a thunder of
applause, mingled with shrill whistles, to compel an encore.
Andy was aware of a disturbance in the front of the house. It was where
a number of the students were seated, and Andy had a glimpse of Dunk
Chamber. Beside him was Gaffington. Dunk had arisen and was swaying
unsteadily on his feet.
"Sit down!"
"Keep him quiet!"
"Put him out!"
"Call the manager!"
"Make him sit down!"
Andy began to feel uneasy. He could see the unhappy condition of his
roommate and those with him. The worst he feared had come to pass.
Swaying, but still managing not to step on anyone, Dunk made his way to
the aisle, and then, getting close to the box where Andy sat, climbed
over the rail. The manager motioned to an usher not to interfere.
Probably he thought it was the best means of producing quiet.
"Here I am, Andy," announced Dunk gravely.
"So I see," spoke Andy, his face blazing at the notice he was receiving.
"Sit down and keep quiet. There's a good act coming."
"Hush!" exclaimed a number of voices as the curtain slid up, to give
place to "Bustling Bodkins," the tramp juggler. The actor came out in
his usual ragged make-up, and proceeded to do things with a pile of
empty cigar boxes--really a clever trick. Dunk watched him with curious
gravity for a while and then started to climb over the footlights on to
the stage.
"No, you don't, Dunk!" cried Andy, firmly, and despite his chum's
protests he hauled him back. Then he took Dunk firmly by the arm and
marched him out of a side entrance of the show-house.
CHAPTER XVII
ANDY'S DESPAIR
"Pretty bad; was I, Andy?"
"Yes."
"Whew! What a headache! Any ice water left?"
"I'll get some."
"Never mind. What's there'll do."
It was morning--there always is a "morning after." Perhaps it is a good
thing, for it is nature's protest against violations of her code of
health.
Dunk drank deep of the water Andy handed him.
"That's better," he said, with a sigh. "Guess I won't get up just yet."
"Going to cut out chapel?"
"I should say yes! My head is splitting now and to go there and hear
that old organ booming out hymns would snap it off my neck. No chapel
for me!"
"You know what it means."
"Well, I can't be in much worse than I am. I'll straighten up after a
bit. No lectures to-day."
"You're going the pace," observed Andy. It was not said with that false
admiration which so often keeps a man on the wrong road from sheer
bravado. Andy was rather white, and his lips trembled.
"It does seem so," admitted Dunk, gloomily enough.
"Any more water there?" he asked, presently.
"I'll get some," offered Andy, and he soon returned with a pitcher in
which ice tinkled.
"That sounds good," murmured his roommate. "Was I very bad last night?"
"Oh, so-so."
"Made a confounded idiot of myself, I suppose?" and he glanced sharply
at Andy over the top of the glass.
"Oh, well, we all do at times."
"I haven't seen you do it yet."
"You will if you room with me long enough, Dunk."
"Yes, but not in the way I mean."
"Oh, well, I'm no moralist; but I hope you never will see me that way.
Understand, I'm not preaching, but----"
"I know. You don't care for it."
"That's it."
"I wish I didn't. But you don't understand."
"Maybe not," said Andy slowly. "I'm not judging you in the least."
"I know, old man. How'd you get me home?"
"Oh, you were tractable enough. I got a taxi."
"I'll settle with you later. I don't seem to have any cash left."
"Forget it. I can lend you some."
"I may need it, Andy. Hang Gaffington and his crowd anyhow! I'm not
going out with them again."
Andy made no reply. He had been much pained and hurt by the episode in
the theater. Public attention had been attracted to him by Dunk's
conduct; but, more than this, Andy remembered a startled and surprised
look in the eyes of Miss Fuller, who came out on the stage when Dunk
interrupted the tramp act.
"If only I could have had a chance to explain," thought Andy. But there
had been no time. He had helped to take Dunk away. When this Samaritan
act was over the theater had closed, and Andy did not think it wise to
look up Miss Fuller at her hotel.
"I'll see her again," he consoled himself.
The chapel bell boomed out, and Andy started for the door.
"What a head!" grumbled Dunk again. "I say, Andy, what's good when a
fellow makes an infernal idiot of himself?"
"In your case a little bromo might help."
"Got any?"
"No, but I can get you some."
"Oh, don't bother. When you come back, maybe----"
"I'll get it," said Andy, shortly.
He was late for chapel when he had succeeded in administering a dose of
the quieting medicine to Dunk, and this did not add to the pleasures of
the occasion. However, there was no help for it.
Somehow the miserable day following the miserable night ended, and Andy
was again back in the room with Dunk. The latter was feeling quite
"chipper" again.
"Oh, well, it's a pretty good old world after all," Dunk said. "I think
I can eat a little now. Never again for me, Andy! Do you hear that?"
"I sure do, old man."
"And that goes. Put her there!"
They shook hands. It meant more to Andy than he would admit. He had
gone, that afternoon, to the theater, where Miss Fuller was on for a
matinee, and, sending back his card, with some flowers, had been
graciously received. He managed to make her understand, without saying
too much.
"I'm so glad it wasn't--you!" she said, with a warm pressure of her
hand.
"I'm glad too," laughed Andy.
"No sir--never again!" said Dunk that evening, as he got out his books.
"You hear me, Andy--never again!"
"That's the way to talk!"
It was hard work at Yale. No college is intended for children, and the
New Haven University in particular has a high aim for its students.
Andy "buckled down," and was doing well. His standing in class, while
not among the highest, was satisfactory, and he was in line for a place
on the freshman eleven.