Читать книгу First Base Faulkner - Christy Mathewson - Страница 4

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“Joseph Faulkner?” inquired Mr. Dennison, the high school principal.

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m very glad to meet you, Faulkner.” They shook hands and Mr. Dennison pulled a chair nearer the big, broad-topped desk. “Sit down, please. You wrote me a week or so ago from Akron, I believe, and enclosed a letter from your principal, Mr. Senter.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I have it here, I think.” Mr. Dennison searched for a moment in the file at his elbow and drew forth the two communications pinned together. He read Mr. Senter’s letter again and nodded.

“I see,” he murmured. “Now tell me something about yourself, my boy. Your father has died recently?”

“Yes, sir, in November.”

“I’m very sorry. I think now I recall reading of his death in the paper. He was the editor of the Enterprise, I believe?”

“Yes, sir. He owned the paper, too. That is, most of it.”

“Your mother is alive, I trust?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you have brothers and sisters?”

“No, sir; there’s only me.”

“I see. I rather expected your mother would call with you, Faulkner. It’s the customary thing. We rather like to meet the pupils’ parents and get in touch with them, so to speak. Possibly your mother, however, was not feeling well enough to accompany you this morning.”

“She isn’t here, sir. She’s in Columbus. You see, father didn’t leave much money and so she—she took a position in Columbus and sent me here to live with an aunt, a Miss Teele, on Brewer Street. Mother wants me to finish high school. I thought I’d ought to go to work, but she wouldn’t let me.”

“Dear, dear!” said Mr. Dennison sympathetically. “Most unfortunate! Well, I think your mother is quite right, my boy. You’ll be better fitted to face the—er—the responsibilities of life if you have supplied yourself with an education. Hm! Yes. Now, let me see. I gather from what your former principal writes that you have been a very steady, hard-working student. You like to study and learn, Faulkner?”

“Yes, sir. That is, I like to study some things. And, of course, I want to learn. Mr. Senter said he thought there wouldn’t be any trouble about my getting into the junior class here, sir. I’ve only missed about seven weeks.”

“I see.” Mr. Dennison thoughtfully folded the letters in his hands, observing Joe the while. What he saw prepossessed him in the boy’s favour. Joe was large for his age, sturdy without being heavy, and had the healthful colouring and clear eyes of a youth who had divided his time fairly between indoors and out. You wouldn’t have called him handsome, perhaps, for his nose wasn’t at all classic, being rather of the tip-tilted variety, and his chin was a bit too square to meet the Greek standard of beauty. Perhaps it was the chin that had suggested spunk to Aunt Sarah. Anyhow, it suggested it to Mr. Dennison. In fact, the whole face spoke of eager courage, and the gray eyes looked out with a level directness that proclaimed honesty. For the rest, he had light-brown hair, so light that one hesitated at calling it brown, but had to for want of a better description, a forehead that matched the chin in breadth and gave the face a square look, and a mouth that, no matter how serious the rest of the countenance was, seemed on the point of breaking into a smile. On the whole, summed up the principal, a healthy, honest, capable appearing boy, and one likely to be heard from.

“Yes,” said Mr. Dennison after a moment’s silence, “yes, I think the junior class is where you belong. At least, we’ll try you there. I don’t want to set you back unless it’s quite necessary. You may have to work hard for a month or so to catch up, but I think you can do it. How old are you, Faulkner?”

“Sixteen, sir, on the fourth of last August.” Other questions were asked and answered and the answers were entered on a filing card. Then:

“Can you start in tomorrow?” asked the principal.

“Yes, sir, I’d like to.”

“Very well. Then in the morning report in Room D to Mr. Whalen. School takes in at eight-thirty. Here is a list of books and materials you’ll need, many of which you doubtless have already. Any books or stationery you need can be obtained at the outer office. Books may be purchased outright or rented, as you please. That’s all, I think. I hope you’ll like us here, Faulkner. You must get acquainted with the other boys, you know, and then you’ll feel more at home. Come and see me in a day or two and tell me how you are getting on. And if there’s anything you want to know or if there’s any help you need don’t hesitate to apply to Mr. Jonson, my assistant, or to me.” Mr. Dennison shook hands again and Joe, armed with the printed list of books and materials, expressed his thanks and passed out into the corridor. A gong had sounded a moment before and the stairways and halls were thronged with students. No one, however, paid any attention to Joe and he left the big building and walked across the town to Main Street and turned southward, his eyes busy as he went.

The sky was still gray and Main Street was ankle-deep in yellow-brown slush, and Amesville did not, perhaps, look its best even yet. But the buildings, if not so fine as those of Akron, were solid and substantial for the most part, and the stores presented enticing windows and leavened the grayness with colour and brightness. It seemed, he decided, a busy, bustling little city—he had already ascertained that it boasted a population of twenty-five thousand and the honor of being the county seat—and it didn’t require any great effort of imagination to fancy himself back in Akron.

Joe not only observed but he studied, and for a reason. To let you into a secret which he had so far confided to no one, Joe had no intention of allowing his mother to pay Aunt Sarah for his board and lodging for very long. He meant to find some sort of work that he could perform before and after school hours. What it was to be he did not yet know, although there was one job he expected to be able to secure if nothing more promising offered. He was fairly certain, although his mother had not taken him into her confidence to that extent, that hotel housekeepers did not receive munificent wages, and he realised that his mother, used to having practically every comfort money could buy, would find it hard enough to get on without having to send a part of her monthly salary to Aunt Sarah.

The job that he felt pretty certain of obtaining was that of delivering newspapers. Joe was well enough acquainted with the newspaper business to know that it was always difficult for circulation managers to find boys enough to keep the routes covered. He had had some experience of the kind, for when he was in grammar school he had delivered the Enterprise all one Summer and part of a Winter, until, in fact, a chronic condition of wet feet caused his mother to interfere. His father had not at any time approved of the proceeding, for Mr. Faulkner had been a man of position in Akron and it had seemed to him that in carrying a newspaper route Joe was performing labor beneath him and, perhaps, casting aspersions on the financial and social standing of Mr. John Faulkner. Joe had had to beg long for permission and his father had agreed with ill-grace. The fun had soon worn off, but Joe had kept on with the work long after his chum, who had embarked in the enterprise with him, had given up. It didn’t bring in much money, and Joe didn’t need what it did bring, since his father was lavishly generous in the matter of pocket-money. It was principally the fact that his father had predicted that he would soon tire of it that kept him doggedly at it when the cold weather came. Getting up before light and tramping through snow and slush to toss twisted-up papers into doorways soon became the veriest drudgery to the fourteen-year-old boy, and only pride prevented him from crying quits. When, finally, wet boots and continual sniffling caused his mother to put her foot down Joe was secretly very, very glad!

But delivering newspapers wasn’t the work he wanted now, unless he could find none other, and, as he went down Main Street just before noon, his eyes and mind were busy with possibilities. To find a position as a clerk was out of the question, since he wouldn’t be able to work during the busiest hours. Some labor that he might perform after school in the afternoon and during the evening was what he hoped to find. And so, as he passed a store or an office, he considered its possibilities. He paused for several minutes in front of one of the big windows of Miller and Tappen’s Department Store, but finally went on with a shake of his head. If it had been before instead of after the holidays he might have found employment there as an extra hand in the wrapping or shipping department, but now they would more likely be turning help away than taking it on. A drug store on the corner engaged his attention next, and then a brilliantly red hardware store across the street, a hardware store that evidently did a large business in athletic goods if one was to judge by the attractive display in one broad window. But Joe couldn’t think of any position in one or the other that he could apply for. Further along, a handsome new twelve-story structure was nearing completion, and he stopped awhile to watch operations. It was the only “skyscraper” in sight and consequently stuck up above the surrounding five- and six-story edifices like, to use Joe’s metaphor, a sore thumb! It was a fine-looking building, though, and he found himself feeling a civic pride in it, quite as though he was already a settled citizen of the town. Well, for that matter, he told himself, he guessed Amesville wasn’t such a bad place, after all, and if only he could find a job that would bring him in enough to pay Aunt Sarah for board and lodging——

But at that moment the noon whistle blew, a bell struck twelve somewhere and Joe turned back toward Brewer Street. Aunt Sarah had enjoined him to be back before half-past twelve, which was dinner time, and he recalled her assertion that she disliked having folks tardy at meals. So his search for employment must wait until later.

His walking had made him hungry again and he viewed veal chops smothered with tomato sauce and the riced potatoes piled high in the blue dish and the lima beans beside it with vast approval. There was a generous plate of graham bread, too, and a pyramid of grape jelly that swayed every time Amanda crossed the floor. He satisfied Aunt Sarah’s curiosity as to the interview with the high school principal while satisfying his own appetite. Aunt Sarah said “Hmph!” and that she’d heard tell Mr. Dennison was a very competent principal. Thereupon she went into the past history of the Amesville High School and its heads, and Joe, diligently addressing himself to the viands, told himself that his Aunt Sarah seemed astonishingly well informed on the subject. Later he discovered that Aunt Sarah was well informed on most subjects and that when it came to town news she was better than a paper!

“I had Amanda bake an apple pudding,” she informed him presently, when his appetite began to languish. “I guess boys usually like something sweet to top off with. Do you eat apple pudding?”

“Yes, Aunt. Most any kind of pudding. But don’t you—don’t you go to any trouble about me, please. I—I can eat whatever there is. I’ve got a fine old appetite.”

“Hmph! Well, I guess you won’t go hungry here. Not that I intend to have things much different from usual, though. I don’t hold with humouring folks’ notions about food. Food is food, I say, so long’s it’s nourishing and decently cooked. Your mother, though, was always a great one for strange, outlandish dishes and I suppose you’ll miss ’em. Well, all I can say is plain food’s what I was brought up on and I’ve never seen anyone hurt none by eatin’ it. I’ve noticed that folks who like messed-up dishes generally have dyspepsia and are always doctoring themselves. Amanda, bring in the pudding.”

Aunt Sarah seemed slightly surprised when, the apple pudding partaken of, Joe announced that he thought he’d go and have a look around town. “Well,” she said, “you’re old enough to look after yourself, I suppose, but for goodness’ sake, don’t go and get run over or anything! Main Street’s getting to be something awful, what with these automobiles and all. Seems like a body just has to take his life in his hands when he goes there nowadays. If those awful things don’t run you down they scare you to death, and if they can’t do any worse to you they spatter you with mud. Gracious sakes, I haven’t dared shop on the other side of Main Street for ’most a year!”

Joe didn’t confide to her his real errand, just why he didn’t exactly know. Perhaps he had a dim notion that Aunt Sarah wouldn’t approve of his engaging in work that might keep him away from home at strange hours of the day or night. She watched his departure doubtfully from the front door and when he was almost to the corner of the next street called after him to go to Rice and Perry’s and get himself a pair of overshoes. “Tell Mr. Perry they’re to be charged to me, and see that he gives them to you big enough. If you don’t watch him he’ll fit you too snug and then they’ll wear out right away!”

Joe didn’t obey instructions, however. Somehow he wasn’t yet ready to become indebted to Aunt Sarah, and, besides, he didn’t need overshoes to get around today. His boots were heavy-soled and as nearly waterproof as any “guaranteed waterproof” boots ever are. During the afternoon he made several inquiries for work. A photographer declined his offer to do errands after three o’clock in the afternoon, a haberdasher failed to discern the benefits to accrue—to him—from giving employment to the applicant, and four other merchants of different trades answered to similar effect. Just before dusk Joe sought the office of the Amesville Recorder.