The Turner Twins

by Ralph Henry Barbour

  CHAPTER VII--HIGH SCHOOL ACCEPTS DEFEAT

  A week passed, and the twins began to feel like old residents. They hadceased being "the Turner twins" to acquaintances, although others stillreferred to them so, and their novelty had so far worn off that theycould enter a classroom or walk side by side across the yard withoutbeing conscious of the rapt, almost incredulous stares of the beholders.To merely casual acquaintances they were known as Ned and Laurie; to afew friends they had become Nid and Nod. Kewpie was responsible forthat. He had corrupted "Ned" into "Nid," after which it was impossiblefor Laurie to be anything but "Nod." Laurie had demurred for a time,demanding to be informed who Nod had been. Kewpie couldn't tell him,being of the hazy belief that Nid and Nod were brothers in some fairystory he had once read, but he earnestly assured Laurie that both hadbeen most upright and wholly estimable persons. Anyhow, Laurie'sobjections wouldn't have accomplished much, for others had been promptto adopt the nicknames and all the protests in the world wouldn't havecaused them to drop them. These others weren't many in number, however:Kewpie and Thurman Kendrick and Lee Murdock and George Watson about madeup the list of them at this time.

  Kendrick was Kewpie's room-mate, a smallish, black-haired, very earnestyouth of sixteen, which age was also Kewpie's. Thurman was familiarlyknown as "Hop," although the twins never learned why. He was a candidatefor quarter-back on the eleven and took his task very seriously. LeeMurdock was one of the baseball crowd, and Laurie had scrapedacquaintance with him on the diamond during a practice game. The word"scraped" is used advisedly, for Laurie, in sliding to second base, hadspiked much of the skin from Lee's ankle. Of such incidents arefriendships formed! Lee was two years older than Laurie, a big, ratherraw-boned fellow with a mop of ash-colored hair and very bright blueeyes.

  George Watson was sixteen, an upper middler, and, as Laurie frequentlyassured him, no fit associate for a respectable fellow. To the latterassertion George cheerfully agreed, adding that he always avoided such.He came from Wyoming and had brought with him a breeziness of mannerthat his acquaintances, rightly or wrongly, described as "wild andwoolly." Of the four, Kewpie and George were more often found in companywith the twins.

  There had been four lessons in kicking on an open lot behind the grammarschool, two short blocks away, and while Ned had not yet mastered thegentle art of hurtling a football through the air, Kewpie wasenthusiastic about his pupil's progress. "Why, geewhillikins, Nid," hebroke forth after the fourth session, "you're a born kicker! Honest youare! You've got a corking swing and a lot of drive. You--you've got real_form_, that's what you've got. You understand. And you certainly dolearn! Of course, you haven't got it all from me, because you've beenpunting in practice two or three times, but I take some of the credit."

  "You've got a right to," responded Ned. "You've taught me a lot morethan I've learned on the field. Gee, if it hadn't been for you I'd beenafraid even to try a punt over there! You ought to see the puzzled waythat Pope looks at me sometimes. He can't seem to make me out, because,I suppose, Joe Stevenson told him I was a crackajack. Yesterday he said,'You get good distance, Turner, and your direction isn't bad, but younever punt twice the same way!'"

  "Well, you don't," laughed Kewpie. "But you'll get over that just assoon as I can get it into your thick head that the right way's the bestand there's only one right!"

  "I know," said Ned, humbly. "I mean to do the way you say, but I sort offorget."

  "That's because you try to think of too many things at once. Stopthinking about your leg and just remember the ball and keep your eyes onit until it's in the air. That's the secret, Nid. I heard Joe tellingPinky the other day that you'd ought to shape up well for next year."

  "Next year!" exclaimed Ned, dubiously. "Gee! mean to tell me I'm goingthrough all this work for next year?"

  "Well, you might get a place this year, for all you know," repliedKewpie, soothingly. "Just keep on coming, Nid. If you could only--well,if you had just a bit more _speed_ now, got started quicker, you know,Pinky would have you on the second squad in no time, I believe. You'reall right after you get started, but--you understand."

  "I do the best I know how," sighed Ned. "I suppose I am slow on theget-away, though. Corson is always calling me down about it. Oh, well,what do I care? I don't own it."

  "I'd like to see you make good, though," said Kewpie. "Besides, rememberthe honor of the Turners!"

  Ned laughed. "Laurie will look after that. He's doing great things inbaseball, if you believe him, and it wouldn't be right for us to captureall the athletic honors."

  "You make me weary!" grunted Kewpie. "Say, don't you California chapsever have any pep?"

  "California, old scout, is famous for its pep. We grow it for market outthere. Why, I've seen a hundred acres planted to it!"

  "You have, eh? Well, it's a big shame you didn't bring a sprig of itEast with you, you lazy lummox! Some day I'm going to drop a cockle-burrdown your back and see if you don't show some action!"

  Hillman's started her season on the following Saturday with Orstead HighSchool. As neither team had seen much practice, the contest didn't showa very high grade of football. The teams played four ten-minutequarters, consuming a good two hours of elapsed time in doing it, theirmembers spending many precious moments prone on the turf. The weatherwas miserably warm for football and the players were still pretty soft.

  Kewpie derived great satisfaction from the subsequent discovery that hehad dropped three quarter pounds and was within a mere seven pounds ofhis desired weight. Had he played the game through instead of yieldingthe center position to Holmes at the beginning of the last half, hemight have reached his goal that afternoon. Ned and Laurie wounded himdeeply by declaring that there was no apparent improvement in hisappearance.

  Ned saw the game from the substitutes' bench, and Laurie from the stand.High School turned out a full attendance and, since Hillman's wasoutnumbered two to one, "O. H. S." colors and cheers predominated.Laurie sat with Lee Murdock, who, as a baseball enthusiast, professed agreat scorn of football. (There was no practice on the diamond thatafternoon.) Lee amused himself by making ridiculous comments in a voiceaudible for many yards around.

  "That's piffle!" he declared on one occasion, when the ground was strewnwith tired, panting players. "The umpire said, 'Third down,' but if theyaren't three quarters down, I'll treat the crowd! The trouble with thosefellows is that they didn't get enough sleep last night. Any one can seethat. Why, I can hear that big chap snoring 'way over here!" Again,"That brother of yours is playing better than any of them," he asserted.

  "Ned? Why, he isn't in! He's on the bench down there."

  "Sure! That's what I mean. You don't see him grabbing the ball away fromBrattle and losing two or three yards at a time. No, sir; he just sitsright there, half asleep, and makes High School _work_ for the game.Every time he doesn't take the ball, Nod, he saves us three or fouryards. He's a hero, that's what he is. If Mulford would get all the restof them back on the bench, we might win."

  "You're crazy," laughed Laurie.

  During the intermission, Laurie's wandering gaze fell on two girls adozen seats away. One, whom he had never seen before, displayed acherry-and-black pennant and belonged unmistakably to the high schoolcohort. She was a rather jolly-looking girl, Laurie decided, with a gooddeal of straw-colored hair and a pink-and-white skin. Her companion wasevidently divided as to allegiance, for she had a cherry-and-blackribbon pinned on the front of her dress and wore a dark-blue silkenarm-band. For a moment Laurie wondered why she looked familiar to him.Then he recognized her as Polly Deane. The two girls appeared to bealone, although some boys in the row behind were talking to them.

  So far, the twins had not been back to the little shop on Pine Street,but Laurie resolved now that he would drop around there very soon andpay his bill before his money was gone. After paying the school bill forthe first half-year, he and Ned had shared slightly more than twentydollars, but since then there had been many expenses. They had each hadto purchase playing t
ogs and stationery, and, finally, had donated twodollars apiece to the football fund at the mass-meeting Friday night ofthe week before.

  Viewed from a financial standpoint, that meeting hadn't been a greatsuccess, and it was no secret that, unless more money was forthcoming,the team would be obliged to cancel at least one of its away-from-homegames. But it had resulted in bringing out a big field of candidates,and there had been a lot of enthusiasm. The next day, viewing hisreduced exchequer, Laurie had ruefully observed that he guessed a dollarwould have been enough to give, but Ned had called him a "piker" and a"tight-wad" and other scornful things. Yesterday Ned had borrowed half adollar, which was more than a fourth of Laurie's remaining cash; and thefirst of October was still a week distant. Realizing the latter fact,Laurie changed his mind about settling his account at the Widow Deane's.But, he reflected, with another friendly glance in Polly's direction, itwouldn't be right to withhold his trade from the store. And he wasn'tanywhere near the limit of indebtedness yet!

  Two listless periods followed the intermission, the only inspiringincident coming when, near the end of the third quarter, Pope, Hillman'sfull-back, foiled in his attempt to get a forward pass away, smashedpast the enemy and around his left end for a run that placed the pigskinsix yards short of the last white line. From there the home team managedto push its way to a touch-down, the third and last score of the day.The final figures were 10 to 7 in Hillman's favor, and neither side wasvery proud of the outcome.

  Ned returned to Number 16 half an hour later in a most critical frame ofmind, and spent ten minutes explaining to Laurie just when and how theschool team had failed. At last Laurie interrupted him to ask, "Have youtold this to Mr. Mulford, Ned?"

  "Mr. Mulford? Why--oh, go to the dickens!"

  "Seems to me he ought to know," said Laurie, gravely.

  "That's all right. You can be sarcastic if you like, but I'm talkinghorse-sense. You see a lot of things from the bench that you don't seefrom the stand. Besides, you've got to know football to understand it.Now you take--"

  "I beg your pardon! Did you say anything about understanding football?"

  "Well, I understand a lot more about it than you do," replied the other,warmly. "I've been playing it a week, haven't I?"

  "Sure, but I'll bet you don't know how much a safety counts!"

  "I don't need to. That's up to the referee. But I know some football,just the same. And I punted forty-seven yards yesterday, too!"

  "In how many punts?" inquired Laurie, innocently.

  Ned threw a book at him and the subject was closed.

  In his own line, baseball, Laurie was not setting the world on fire. Hewas gaining a familiarity with the position of center fielder on thescrub nine, and batting practice was at least not doing him any harm.But he certainly had displayed no remarkable ability; and if Ned hadgained a notion to the contrary, it was merely because it pleased Laurieto fool him with accounts of imaginary incidents in which he, Laurie,had shone most brilliantly. As Ned knew even less about baseball than hehad known of football, almost any fairy-tale "went" with him, and Lauriederived much amusement thereby; decidedly more, in fact, than he derivedfrom playing!

  On Monday morning Laurie dragged Ned over to the Widow Deane's forginger-ale, professing a painful thirst. The Widow greeted thempleasantly, recalling their names, and provided them with the requestedbeverage. Laurie's thirst seemed to have passed, for he had difficultyin consuming his portion. When, presently, he asked politely aboutPolly, it developed that that young lady was quite well enough to attendhigh school as usual. Laurie said, "Oh!" and silently promised himselfthat the next time he got thirsty it would be in the afternoon. Ned atetwo doughnuts and was hesitating over raspberry tarts when Lauriedragged him away. "Can't you think of anything but eating?" demanded thelatter, disgustedly. Ned only blinked.

  "Ginger-ale always makes me hungry," he explained calmly.

  Two days later, the twins awoke to cloudy skies, and by mid-forenoon alazy drizzle was falling, which later turned to a downright tempest ofwind and rain. At four the baseball candidates scooted to thefield-house for cover, although, peering forth through a drenchedwindow, Laurie discerned the football-players still at work. Lee Murdocksaid he guessed the equinoctial storm had come, and that if it hadthere'd be no practice for a couple of days. Laurie tried to lookbroken-hearted and failed dismally. Taking advantage of a lull in thedownpour, he and Lee, with many of the others, set forth for school.They were still far short of the gymnasium, however, when the torrentbegan again, and it was a wet, bedraggled, and breathless crowd thatpresently pushed through the door.

  George Watson, who had been playing tennis before the rain started, wasphilosophically regarding a pair of "unshrinkable" flannel trouserswhich, so he declared, had already receded an inch at the bottoms. Itwas George who suggested that, after changing to dry clothing, they goover to the Widow's and have ice-cream at his expense. Not possessing arain-coat of his own, Laurie invaded Number 15 and borrowed Kewpie's. Itwas many sizes too large, but it answered. The Widow's was full when heand George and Lee got there, and the pastry counter looked as though ithad been visited by an invading army. There was still ice-cream, though,and the three squeezed into a corner and became absorbedly silent for aspace.

  Polly was helping her mother, and Laurie exchanged greetings with her,but she was far too busy for conversation. Lee treated to a second roundof ice-cream, and afterward Laurie bought a bag of old-fashionedchocolates. He hoped Polly would wait on him, but it was Polly's motherwho did so and asked after his brother as she filled the paper sack.

  "I do hope you're looking after him and that he hasn't eaten thoseraspberry tarts yet," she said pleasantly.

  "Yes'm," said Laurie. "I mean, he hasn't." He thought it surprising thatthe Widow Deane was able to tell them apart. Even Kewpie and Georgefrequently made mistakes.

  It was still pouring when they went out again, and they hurried up thestreet and around the corner into School Park, their progress somewhatdelayed by the fact that Laurie had placed the bag of candy in anoutside pocket of Kewpie's capacious rain-coat and that all three haddifficulty in finding it. Lee had just popped a big chocolate into hismouth and George was fumbling into the moist bag when the clouds openedsuddenly and such a deluge fell as made them gasp. In distance they werebut a long block from school; but with the rain descending on them asthough poured from a million buckets, their thought was of immediateshelter.

  "Wow!" yelped Lee. "Let's get out of this! Here's a house. Come on!"

  There was an opening in a high hedge, and a short brick walk from whichthe drops were rebounding knee-high, and, seen dimly through the deluge,a porch at the end of it. They reached it in what Laurie called threeleaps and a jump, and, under shelter of the roof, drew breath and lookedback into the gray welter. The park was invisible, and even the highlilac hedge was only a blurred shape. Lee had to shout to make himselfheard above the rain.

  "Wonder who lives here," he said. "I don't remember this house."

  "Sure you do!" said George. "This is the Coventry house. We're on theside porch."

  "Oh!" Lee gazed doubtfully into the rain. "Well, anyway, it'll do. Gee,my trousers are soaked to the knees! How long do you suppose this willkeep up?"

  "You said for two days," answered Laurie, cheerfully, trying to dry hisneck with a moist handkerchief.

  "I mean this shower, you chump!"

  "Call this a shower? What's a cloud-burst like in this part of thecountry, then?"

  "We don't have such things," answered George, who was peering through aside-light into the dim interior. "Say, I thought this place was empty,"he continued. "I can see chairs and a table in there."

  "No; some one rented it this fall," said Lee. "I noticed the other daythat the front door was open and the grass had been cut. I wouldn't wantto live in the place, though."

  "Why?" inquired Laurie.

  But, before any answer came, the door was suddenly opened within a fewinches of George's nose and a voice sai
d:

  "You fellows had better come inside until it's over."