CHAPTER XVIII
"OLD EARNEST"
Humphrey was "breaking into Society," to use his own half-contemptuousphrase. That is to say, he had made two visits with Ira, had renewedacquaintances with Fred Lyons and Gene Goodloe and Mart Johnston andDwight Bradford, and had shaken hands with perhaps a half-dozen others.He pretended to make fun of the proceedings, but was secretly verypleased. He was received politely by new acquaintances, more on Ira'saccount than his own, for Ira had become a person of prominence now,and with a fair degree of cordiality by those he had met before. Hehad sense enough to show his best side, and behaved quietly and evenmodestly and let the others do most of the talking. Perhaps his bestside was his real side. At any rate, Ira began to hope so then, andlater in the year he became convinced of it. Humphrey didn't give uphis friends at the Central Billiard Palace all at once, but he didconfine his visits to that place to two or three evenings a week. AndIra heard a great deal less of "Billy" and "Jimmy" and the rest of thebilliard-hall crowd.
Meanwhile, Ira had taken possession of Humphrey's November allowanceand Humphrey was having it doled out to him three dollars at a time.The first week he ran through his three dollars by Wednesday and Irahad to advance two more. But the next week Humphrey got along withthe three, and after that he seldom had to ask for more. Boarding atMrs. Trainor's was the real solution of his financial problem; thatand wasting less money on pool. Later in the year he became thoroughlyinterested in economising and eventually opened a banking account ofhis own. But that doesn't belong in the present narrative.
With the end of the football season only about a fortnight away,Parkinson School became rampantly patriotic, and no one could havesanely found fault with its attitude toward the team. It was nowas enthusiastically supporting the eleven as even Fred Lyons couldwish. There were cheer meetings about every other night and the oneprincipal subject of conversation whenever two or more fellows metwas: "Will We Beat 'Em?" "'Em," of course, were the Kenwood team, forno one particularly cared what happened to Day and Robins' or St.Luke's. Fortunately for discussion, there were plenty who believedor pretended to believe that Kenwood would repeat her last year'sperformance and tie another defeat to Parkinson. Those who held thatview had excellent grounds for their conviction, for Kenwood hadpassed, or, more correctly, was passing through a very successfulseason. So far the Blue had met with but one defeat, had sevenvictories to her credit and had played a 0 to 0 game with the StateCollege Second Team. In fact, Kenwood had one of her Big Teams thisseason, if Kenwood was to be believed, and was pretty confident of avictory over the Brown. The Kenwood school paper caused a spasm ofindignation throughout Parkinson by editorially calling on the FootballAssociation to move the Parkinson game up the next Fall so that theblue team might meet in her final contest a foeman more worthy of hersteel. _The Leader_ replied scathingly to that impertinent reflectionon the Parkinson team and printed a page of letters to the editor from"Patriot," "Veritas," "Indignant" and other well-known scribes.
Theoretically at least, Ira had no time for interests or adventuresoutside football, for he was an extremely busy, hard-worked youthfrom the Monday succeeding the Chancellor game to the Thursdaybefore the contest with Kenwood Academy. Nor, for that matter, didany other interests win his attention or other adventures befall him,if we except, in the first case, study--he had to do more or less ofthat--and, in the second case, a call from "Old Earnest."
Ernest Hicks would probably have been much surprised if anyone hadconnected him in any way with an adventure, for adventures didn't laywithin his scheme of life. But at a period when Ira's days were madeup of hearing, thinking and playing football, anything not connectedwith that all-absorbing subject possessed for him the attributes of anadventure. It was on a Friday afternoon, the Friday preceding the Dayand Robins's game, between his last recitation and the practice hour,that someone knocked on his half-closed door. He had heard footstepson the stairs, but usually such footsteps went on to one of the otherdoors and he hadn't looked up from the book he was studying. He said"Come in!" and rather expected to be confronted by the freckle-facedyouth who called for and, in the course of time, brought back thelaundry. But when the door opened it was "Old Earnest" who stood there,and Ira wonderingly slipped a pencil between the pages and arose.
"Have you got an encyclopedia?" inquired the visitor, his gaze, frombehind the big, round lenses of his spectacles, roaming inquiringlyabout the room.
"No, I haven't," answered Ira. "At least, only a small, one-volume one.I'm afraid it wouldn't be of much use to you. I usually go over to thelibrary."
The visitor nodded. "Yes, you can do that." He rubbed his chinreflectively with long, thin fingers and observed Ira dubiously. Hewas quite the tallest youth Ira had ever seen, and he was as thin andangular as he was tall. He had brown hair, which was worn rather toolong and which looked sadly in need of brushing, grey eyes, a verysharp nose, a wide, thin mouth and a chin that came almost to a point.He looked to Ira as if he needed a square meal, or, rather, a wholeseries of square meals, for his face was as narrow as his body andhis queer, nondescript clothes hung about him as though they had beenfashioned at some far-distant time when he had weighed about threetimes his present weight. His coat was a plaid lounging jacket fromwhich depended by a few threads one remaining frog. The correspondingbutton had followed its companions into oblivion. His trousers wereof grey flannel and his feet were encased in a pair of brown canvas"sneakers." Ira had glimpsed him frequently about the corridors ofParkinson Hall, but this present costume was not what he wore atrecitations, which, as Ira reflected, was a fortunate thing for thesobriety of the classrooms!
Hicks finally removed his gaze slowly from Ira, sighed and saiddejectedly: "I'll have a look at it, I guess. It might give me what I'mafter. Where is it?"
It lay in the centre of the desk, a cheap little limp-leather affair ofinfinitesimal print and a woeful lack of contents. Hicks shook his headas he opened it and ran his long fingers over the edges of the leaves.Ira saw, with a sort of fascination, that the tips of the fingersturned back almost at right angles under pressure. Hicks regretfullyclosed the book and pushed it from him. "What do you know about theHamiltonian-System?"
"Not a thing," answered Ira cheerfully. "What is it?"
"It's a system of teaching languages. But who invented it? Was it Jamesor William? And if he did invent it how does it happen that John Lockewrote about it a century before? Explain that if you can."
"I shouldn't want to try, thanks," laughed Ira.
"Old Earnest" sniffed. "You couldn't. But did Locke himself originateit? Take his _Essay Concerning Human Understanding_, now. All throughthat you'll find evidence pointing to the contrary. Have you read it?"
Ira shook his head dumbly.
"You'll want to some day. It's a wonderful work. He applies theBaconian method to the study of the mind, you know."
"Really?" murmured Ira.
"Of course, it's not startling nowadays, but it must have been then.That knowledge results from experience and not from innate ideas is nolonger novel. In fact, the whole Descartes theory can be knocked intoa heap if you apply Locke's philosophy. He doesn't stand for dualism,you know. Nor do I. To say that the mind and body are heterogeneoussubstances is quite absurd. You agree with me, of course?"
"I might if I knew what the dickens you were talking about," repliedIra helplessly.
"Oh!" Hicks looked both surprised and disappointed. "Well--" He plungedhis hands into the pockets of his cavernous trousers and looked aboutthe room. "I used to visit a fellow up here two or three years ago. Iforget what his name was. He was in my class, though, and he and I hada go at Friesian. We didn't keep it up, for some reason. I don't knowif you ever studied it?"
"No, I never did. Is it--did you like it?"
"I think so. I rather forget. Let me see, what was it I came for? Oh,yes that Hamiltonian-System! I'll have to go over to the library. It'sa bother. I'm always having to go over to the library. It is was morecentral----"
/> "I'd be glad to look it up for you, if you liked," offered Ira. "ButI'm afraid I wouldn't get it right."
"You wouldn't," answered Hicks calmly. "It doesn't matter. I do miss myown library, though. It was very complete."
"What happened to it?" asked Ira. "Er--won't you sit down?"
"Old Earnest" evidently didn't hear the invitation. At least, he paidno attention to it, but continued to stand there, hands in pockets,and ruminatively stared at the window. "I sold it," he said quitematter-of-factly. "Over a hundred and twenty volumes."
"But--but what for?"
"Why, I needed some money. You see, I had the misfortune to fail in thefinals last Spring, and I hadn't planned on another year. It costs agood deal here. Food especially. I got sixty-two dollars for them. Theywere worth two hundred at least. There was a twelve-volume set of theUniversal Encyclopedia and a copy of the first edition of Fanning's_Morals_. Some others, too. Valuable. He's still got most of them, andI'm hoping to get them back some day. I've bought five or six already.I wanted the encyclopedia, but he put an outrageous price on it. I missit a great deal. Well, I'm much obliged for your information."
He turned abruptly toward the door and shuffled across the room. Irawas tempted to remind him that he had obtained no information, butdidn't. Instead: "Who buys books here?" he asked.
"Books? Oh, there are several. All robbers, though. I sold mine toConverse, on Oak Street. He will do as well for you as any of them. Ifyou ever want to read that book of Locke's, I've got it."
"Old Earnest" passed out, closing the door behind him with a resoundingcrash. When he had gone Ira smiled at the closed door. Then hechuckled. Then, quite suddenly, he became serious and, seating himselfat the table again, picked holes in the blotter with the nib of a penfor quite five minutes. And finally he tossed the pen aside with theair of one who has reached a decision, seized his cap and clattereddown the stairs.
Converse's Second-hand Book Emporium--it seemed to Ira that Warne'smerchants exhibited a marked and peculiar partiality to "emporiums" asopposed to mere "stores"--was not difficult to find, for the sidewalkin front was stacked with broken-backed books and old magazines. It wasa dim and dingy place inside, and smelled of dust and old leather. Theproprietor arose from an armchair before a small desk under a windowand approached smilingly. He was a thin, stoop-shouldered little manin rusty black clothes and wearing a black skullcap. The smile waswonderfully benignant, but the little deep-set eyes looked crafty.
"I just wanted to look around," said Ira.
"Of course! Certainly! Help yourself, sir. Is there any special subjectyou're interested in?"
"N-no, I guess not." Ira picked up a book from a shelf and examined itcarelessly. "I might use a good dictionary, though."
"I have a fine lot, sir. This way, please." The proprietor led the waydown one of the two dim passages and snapped on an electric light atthe end. "Here we are! Big and little, sir. You'll find the pricesplainly marked in the front. Here's a Webster Unabridged----"
"N-no, I think a smaller one----"
"Then a Student's, like this." He slapped the book on his hand and senta cloud of dust into the air. "Only a dollar and a quarter, sir."
Ira viewed it without enthusiasm. Finally: "I might give you fiftycents for it," he said indifferently.
"Oh, dear, no, sir! I couldn't do it, I honestly couldn't! That's oneof the best dictionaries there is. I sell a great many of them to theyoung gentlemen at the school. Perhaps you are one of them?"
"Yes, but I couldn't pay a dollar and a quarter for that," said Ira,laying it down.
"Ah, but if you're one of the young gentlemen from the school, sir,I'll make a discount. We'll say a dollar. Shall I wrap it up?"
"There's no hurry. Perhaps seventy-five cents--What's this? Anencyclopedia, eh? Too bad it isn't in better condition."
"But it's in very good condition indeed, sir," protested the littleman. "I bought that not more than a month ago from a gentleman who ismost particular with his books. In fact, I took his whole library, amatter of--hm--something under two hundred volumes. Now if you wanted arare bargain in a set of the Universal----"
"No, I guess not. I couldn't afford it."
"You don't know, sir, you don't know," chuckled the man. "Just waittill you hear the price I'm going to make. You can have that set forex-act-ly twenty dollars! And it cost, when new----"
"Yes, but it isn't new," interrupted Ira. "Twenty dollars, eh? I'llwager you didn't pay more than ten for it."
"Ten! Ten dollars for a perfect set of the Encyclopedia Universal! Mydear sir!"
"I might give twelve," said Ira tentatively.
The man held up his dusty hands in horror. "You're not serious!" heprotested.
"Not very, because I don't specially want them," replied Ira. "Whatelse is there here?"
"But--I tell you what I _will_ do, sir, I'll let you have the setfor--let me see, let me see--eighteen-fifty! There, I can't offerbetter than that!"
"Oh, yes you can," answered the boy cheerfully. "You can say fifteen.But I'd rather you didn't, for I might take it, and I oughtn't to doit."
"Hm. You'd pay fifteen, you think?"
"Well, I might. Yes, I guess I'd fall for it at fifteen. But----"
"It's an awful thing to do, but times are hard and--well, take it!"
"Thanks," laughed Ira, "but they're a little heavy to take with me. Iguess you'll have to send them to me."
"Hm: I'd have to charge a little for delivering them."
"Suit yourself, but don't charge me," replied Ira. "I'll write you acheque if you'll show me where the ink is. Oh, thanks. There you are,Mr. Converse. And the books are to go to 200 Main Street, Mrs. Magoon'shouse."
"Eh? You said 200 Main Street? Why, that's where--hm--yes, of course!Very well, sir. Thank you. I hope you'll remember me whenever you wantanything else, Mr.--er--Rowland. Good afternoon."
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