Читать книгу Dick Merriwell's Assurance; Or, In His Brother's Footsteps - Burt L. Standish - Страница 8

CHAPTER VI.
A RISING CLOUD.

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June’s party came off as arranged, and a jolly party it proved to be. Besides the members of the baseball team, Darrell, Smart, and one or two others were invited. Obediah Tubbs was on deck, with his “weather eye” peeled for pie. Chip Jolliby, stammering and awkward, yet bubbling with good nature, provided considerable amusement. There were games of various sorts, card-playing, music, and singing. Billy Bradley found a jolly little black-eyed girl, who interested him immensely, and to whom he gave pronounced attention. He was trying to entertain her when Ted Smart drifted up.

“When do the drinkables float on?” inquired Ted. “I suppose they are going to have lemonade, or fruit punch, or something? It’s about time.” He pulled out his watch and looked at it. “By the way,” he chirped, “why should a thirsty man always carry a watch?”

“’Anged hif Hi ’now!” confessed Billy. “’E surely can’t drink hout hof hit.”

“Why not?” chuckled Ted. “Every watch has a spring inside.”

At this the little dark-eyed girl laughed heartily, while Billy slowly scratched his head, a puzzled look on his face.

“Hi suppose that’s one hof your blooming Hamerican jokes!” he half growled. “Still Hi dunno ’ow ’e can get a drink hout hof hit.”

“Oh, Mr. Bradley!” laughed the girl. “How funny you are!”

“Lordy! Lordy!” muttered Ted. “I will have to show him the spring. Why, don’t you see, Sir William, any watch has a spring in it? A man who is thirsty can wet his whistle at a spring.”

Still it was some moments before Billy managed to grasp the point. When he did he suddenly hit his knee a slap and gave a shout:

“By Jove!” he exclaimedexclaimed. “That’s a good one, don’t y’ ’now!”

“How wonderfully quick you are to catch on!” chuckled Ted. “But I know another good one.”

“Go a’ead and give hit to hus,” urged the Cockney youth.

“What’s the hardest kind of soap?” asked Ted.

“The ’ardest kind?” repeated Bill. “Why, there’s lots of ’ard soaps.”

“But what’s the hardest kind?” persisted Ted. “Give it up?”

“Hi suppose Hi’ll ’ave to. What his the ’ardest kind hof soap?”

“Why, Castile, of course. Don’t you see, Sir William—cast-steel soap must be very hard.”

Still Bradley failed to tumble, and his perplexity added to the merriment of the dark-eyed girl.

“He’s a wonder, Billy is!” exclaimed Ted. “But just wait till he springs these conundrums and see how he will convulse everybody.”

“The ’ardest kind of soap,” muttered Bradley, wrinkling his brows. “Castile is the ’ardest kind hof soap.”

“Why, of course,” said the girl. “Steel is hard, isn’t it? He made it plain enough. Cast steel, Mr. Bradley, don’t you see?”

“Ow-wow!” gasped Billy. “Dear me! I hunderstand!”

“Let me whisper something in your ear,” said Ted. “Those are strictly new. I don’t think any one here has ever heard them before. If you want to bump this bunch good and hard, just spring them.”

“Hall right,” said Billy. “Hif Hi hever get a chance Hi’ll double them up.”

Ted went on his way, and soon he had the entire party puzzling over the answers to his conundrums, which he sprang one after another.

Suddenly Chip Jolliby unfolded himself and rose by sections to his full height.

“Wait a minute!” he cried. “I have a gug-gug-gug-good one!”

Instantly all gave him their attention.

“What is the difference between an auction and seasickness?” grinned the tall boy.

There were several guesses at the answer, but no one gave it. Finally Jolliby was urged to explain the difference between an auction and seasickness.

“Why,” he laughed, “one is a sale of effects and the other is the effects of a sail.”

Smart produced his handkerchief and began to sob.

“What’s the matter?” asked one of the girls.

“I have been robbed!” moaned Ted. “That was my pet property. I owned that. My happiness is ruined!”

“I’ll tell you where you can always find happiness,” declared Dick at once.

“Where?” cried Ted.

“In the dictionary,” answered Merriwell.

And immediately Smart fell off his chair with a thud.

“Don’t feel so bad over it, my little man,” said Buckhart, as he patted Ted on the head. “You’re a bright little fellow. You’re a wonderfully witty little chap.”

“Say, Texas,” chirped Ted, looking up, “bet you can’t tell what makes every one sick save the one who swallows it.”

“I am not good at guessing,” said Brad. “What is it?”

“Flattery,” answered Smart, and cheered up at once.

Catching Billy’s eye, Ted winked at him and nodded. Billy fancied he saw his opportunity.

“Hi have a beautiful conundrum, don’t y’ ’now,” he declared, and immediately received the attention of every one. “What’s the ’ardest kind hof soap?”

When all professed their inability to answer this conundrum and demanded the answer from him, the Cockney youth threw out his chest.

“Why,” he said, “that’s heasy. The ’ardest kind hof soap his cast-hiron soap, hof course.”

Having told this, he fetched his knee a resounding crack and then clung to his sides, as he doubled up with laughter. When he straightened up and looked around he was astonished to see a lot of blank faces, for no one save himself was laughing. Ted Smart had crammed his handkerchief into his mouth to keep from shouting.

“I am afraid we don’t catch the point, Billy,” said Dick. “You will have to explain it again.”

“What’s the matter, hanyhow?” exploded Bradley. “Hit’s dead heasy! You will see hit in a minute. Hi didn’t see hit at first. Why, think of it! Why, of course, cast hiron is the ’ardest kind hof soap!”

“Not having seen any cast-iron soap,” said Singleton, “we will have to take your word for it.”

Bradley was both disappointed and disgusted.

“Hit’s mighty queer, don’t y’ ’now!” he growled, “that nobody sees the point when Hi spring a joke! Some’ow, Hi can’t see the point now, myself. Hi thought Hi could, but Hi ’ave forgotten just what hit was. Now Hi ’ave got another one, and hit his better than that.”

Smart started to crawl behind the piano.

“Give us the other one,” urged the boys and girls.

“Well,” said Bill, “why should a thirsty man halways carry a watch? There you hare!”

Again, after a little, they gave it up and urged him to explain why a thirsty man should carry a watch.

“Why, don’t you hunderstand?” said Billy. “A watch ’as a well in hit.”

Once more, being satisfied he had hit the nail on the head this time, the Cockney youth laughed loudly. In the midst of his laughter he stopped with his mouth wide open, suddenly realizing that no one else was laughing.

From behind the piano came a sound like sobs of distress.

“Say, what’s the matter with you now?” snapped Billy.

“I don’t think I ever saw a well in a watch,” confessed Gardner.

“Did Hi say a well?” gasped Billy. “That was a mistake; Hi meant a cistern. That’s hit! Don’t you see?—a cistern!”

Then, when they failed to laugh, he gripped Tubbs by the shoulder and shook him.

“Why don’t you laugh, you fat chump?” he shouted. “If you don’t laugh Hi will ’ave to ’it you.”

“He! he!” said Obediah moanfully.

Somehow this was more than they could stand, and suddenly the entire party burst into shrieks of laughter. Immediately a look of happiness and relief overspread Billy’s face, and in the midst of all this commotion and merriment he stood in the middle of the floor repeatedly slapping his knee and crying:

“Hi knew you would see the point! Hi thought you couldn’t ’elp seeing the point! Hit’s hawful funny! Hit’s the funniest joke Hi hever ’eard!”

Out from behind the piano rolled Smart, who lay on the floor, clinging to his sides and gasping for breath. From one side to another he rolled, and his merriment caused tears to fill his eyes.

“You little wretch!” chuckled Dick, as he pounced on Ted. “This is some of your work.”

“Kill me!” gasped Ted. “Put me out of my misery. Kill me and save my life!”

At last Bradley was satisfied, but he was not destined to be left in peace. One after another the boys came round to him with a watch, asking him to point out the cistern in it. Those who had no watch borrowed one in order to put the question. Finally Billy became indignant.

“Hi ham no blamed watchmaker, don’t y’ ’now!” he shouted. “Get haway from me, the ’ole hof you!”

All through the evening Doris gave Dick scarcely a look or a word. Once he spoke to her and tried to enter into conversation with her, but she quickly excused herself and left him. On the other hand, she had nothing but smiles for Darrell. At first Hal remained reserved, but beneath her sunniness he gradually thawed.

Zona Desmond improved the first opportunity to speak privately with Arlington. They were standing in a little alcove, and she observed that Chet was watching Doris closely.

“You have something to thank me for, Mr. Arlington,” she declared.

“Indeed,” he said, lifting his eyebrows. “How’s that?”

“I have saved you from a lot of trouble.”

“Have you?”

“Yes.”

“Then be sure of my thanks. But I am certain I do not understand what you mean. How have you saved me a lot of trouble?”

“You know what you told Doris on the bridge this afternoon?”

Chet shrugged his shoulders.

“Yes.”

“Well, do you know what she was going to do?”

“I am sure I do not.”

“Well, she was just determined to go straight to Dick Merriwell and demand to know if it was the truth. What if she had done that? You would have found yourself in a fix.”

“I knew well enough that she wouldn’t.”

“How did you know?”

“Well, if I’m not mistaken, she has a little pride of her own. She could not do that without humbling her own pride.”

“Still, Chester, she was just angry enough to do it. And it was I who stopped her. If it hadn’t been for me you never would have known of those things you told her. You know you fibbed when you said it was the gossip of the school.”

He laughed easily.

“There is such a thing as lying in a good cause,” he said. “Merriwell doesn’t care a snap for her, and any one can see that. Look at him now. There he is in the corner, talking to my sister.”

“At least,” said Zona, watching her companion slyly, “you have done a good thing for Hal Darrell.”

Instantly a cloud came to Arlington’s face.

“I am not spending any time doing that fellow good turns!” he muttered.

“But see how Doris is taking up with him to-night.”

“I see!”

Inwardly Zona was laughing. Things were occurring to satisfy her. She knew well enough that Chester had sought to break the friendship between Doris and Dick, with the object of placing himself in favor with Doris. In this he had failed completely.

“It was a shame for Dick Merriwell to come between them,” asserted Zona. “And your fib will be pardonable if Doris and Hal again become friendly as of old.”

“Oh, yes!” he grated. “It will be a fine thing, won’t it!”

“Why not?” she innocently asked.

“Never mind!” he growled. “Let it go!”

When refreshments were served in the dining room, Arlington made a desperate venture in offering Doris his arm to escort her to the table.

“I hope you will give me that much pleasure to-night,” he said.

“You will have to excuse me,” she murmured. “I have promised Hal.”

Even as she spoke Hal appeared, and she accepted his arm.

Chester clinched his hands and glared after them.

“I don’t see that I have made much out of this,” he thought savagely. “I have simply smoothed out things for Merriwell and left myself in a hole. But I won’t give it up! I am not beaten yet. I will trap Mr. Darrell if I live long enough.”

Zona appeared at his side.

“Come Mr. Thundercloud,” she laughed. “Why, you’re the picture of tragedy and revenge! Don’t let anybody get onto it.”

“What do I care for this bunch of flubs!” he exclaimed.

“We’re the only ones left,” reminded Zona, as Billy escorted the little dark-eyed girl from the room. “Aren’t you coming?”

“No!”

“You’re not? What are you going to do?”

“I am going upstairs,” said Chet. “I have got a headache.”

Although she urged him not to do this, he persisted, and to her chagrin she was left to enter the dining room alone. June met her at the door.

“I was just looking for you,” she said. “Where is Chester?”

“He has a headache,” said Zona. “He’s gone upstairs.”

Having excused herself for a few moments, June went in search of her brother. She found him pacing the floor in an upper room.

“Come, Chester,” she urged; “aren’t you going to join us?”

“Oh, what’s the use! I don’t want anything. Let me alone.”

“But you must come. Think how it looks! What will the others think?”

“I don’t care!”

“But I care, Chester. You must come down for my sake.”

“Tell ’em I’ve got a headache! Tell ’em anything.”

“No, no; I can’t do that! They will know better. You must come down. Please come, Chester. I am sure I would do as much for you.”

“All right. I will come, June; but it’s a mistake. The best thing you can do is to leave me here. I am dangerous to-night.”

Nevertheless, she succeeded in leading him down to the dining room, and he took a seat at the table. However, he did not participate in the talk and laughter of the company, and after a while his gloomy spirits began to dampen the pleasure of the others.

Obediah Tubbs seemed to be the only one who was not disturbed, and he was so absorbed in eating pie, several of which had been provided for him, that he failed to notice the growing shadow.

When refreshments were over June urged some of the boys to sing, and she accompanied them on the piano. They sang “Fardale’s Way,” “Fair Fardale,” and two or three similar songs; but at last the party began to break up.

In turning from the piano, Darrell bumped full and fair against Arlington.

“I beg your pardon,” said Hal.

“Well, you’d better,” flashed Chet. “You ran against me on purpose.”

“Nothing of the sort.”

“You mean to call me a liar?” hissed Arlington. “I won’t take that front any fellow anywhere.”

In another moment he would have struck Hal in the face, but his wrist was seized by Dick, and some of the others stepped quickly between them. The girls were frightened, and June’s distress was completed by this ungentlemanly act on the part of her brother.

“Chester!” she entreated. “For my sake—please! please!”

“All right,” he said. “Take your hands off me, Merriwell. I will see that fellow again.”

Then he strode out of the room, and the departing guests saw no more of him that night.

Dick Merriwell's Assurance; Or, In His Brother's Footsteps

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