simple,” laughed Rusty. “First I unlock it, thus. Then I stand clear of it. Then the unsuspecting visitor outside turns the knob.” He turned it from the inside, stepping quickly out of the way, and the door leaped open, swung once around and stopped as the latch snapped again into its socket. “That’s all there is to it. I place the cushioned chair here to receive the caller and place the ‘Welcome’ sign where he will be sure to see it. Most all the fellows know about it now, though, and I have to rely on newcomers like you, Bates, for a bit of fun.” He locked the portal again.
“Well, but – but suppose you want to go out?” asked Dick.
“I go out the other door.” Rusty indicated the adjoining bedroom. “In fact,” he added with a twinkle, “I seldom use this entrance myself. I keep it locked until I am expecting a distinguished visitor.”
“Still, I don’t see how you knew I was with Stan,” Dick objected.
“You’ll have to ask Stan about that,” laughed Rusty.
“I told him,” explained Stanley, grinning.
“Oh! Then that’s why you were so anxious to come with me.” Dick fixed his room-mate with an accusing eye. “All right. I’ll get even with you, old son, if it takes my last – if it takes my last two pennies!” He looked quickly at Rusty, but there was nothing to show that the latter had grasped the allusion. “Maybe,” continued Dick, “you’d like to see them.” He fished the two cents from his pocket and held them forth. Stanley viewed them interestedly and so did Rusty.
“What’s the idea?” asked the former. “Do you mean that you’re down to those? Stony broke, Dick?”
Rusty’s innocent, uncomprehending expression remained and Dick began to think his suspicions wrong. “No, those are just – just pocket-pieces,” he answered flatly.
“Wouldn’t be very useful to you in a pinch,” observed his host. “Well, find seats, fellows. Hope you didn’t mind the reception, Bates. But I guess you didn’t. You look like a fellow who can take a joke.”
“No, I didn’t mind,” said Dick. “Guess I was too surprised to mind!” He looked about the room. “This is pretty comfortable, Crozier.”
“Not bad. I’ve had these rooms ever since my first year. Got two nice windows in front and one on the side there, and two more in the bedroom. Mrs. Spooner is a corking old soul, and doesn’t mind a bit of noise now and then.”
Stanley chuckled, and when Dick looked across inquiringly he explained. “Mrs. Spooner’s as deaf as a haddock, Dick. If she wasn’t she couldn’t live in the same house with Rusty!”
“Run away! I’m not noisy. Sometimes my guests are, but I do all I can to restrain them. Haynes gives me more trouble than Mrs. S. He has the room under this on the floor below, Bates, and insists on studying at the times I feel playful. There are four other fellows in the house and you couldn’t pry any of us loose. You chaps can have your dormitory rooms. I don’t want them, thanks.”
“Do you take your meals here?” Dick inquired.
“No, Mrs. S. doesn’t give meals. She used to, but that was before my time. I eat around. Usually at ‘The Eggery.’ Sometimes at Thacher’s. Stan says you’re out for the football team. Going to make it all right?”
“I don’t know, I’m sure. I’m going to try to. Do you – are you – ”
“No, I’m not athletic, Bates. My favourite sport is mumblepeg. Besides, my studies prevent. Oh, shut up, Stan! Let me make a good impression on Bates, can’t you? What time is it, anyway? Look here, let’s go to the movies. What do you say?”
“Not for me,” answered Stanley. “I’ve got to beat it back and do some work tonight. Besides, the last time – ”
“Oh, that!” laughed Rusty. “Wasn’t it silly? Such a fuss about so little, eh?”
“Oh, yes, very little!” Stanley turned to Dick. “He and Blash stretched a rope across the aisle and tied it to the arms of the seats ahead of them. Being fairly dark, some confusion ensued!”
“During which, if I remember correctly, you and Joe and Blash sneaked out. Just shows what a guilty conscience will do, Bates. I remained, secure in my innocence, and saw the show through.”
“Yes, you rotter!” said Stan indignantly. “You put the blame on us, and every time I go there now the doorman looks at me unkindly.”
“Well, you were out of the way and I wasn’t. Besides, I wanted to see the rest of the picture.”
“Rusty, if you got your deserts,” said Stanley, feelingly, “you’d be shot at sunrise. Well, I must beat it. Coming along, Dick?”
Dick went, in spite of Rusty’s pleas. They left by way of the bedroom and Dick watched the hall door very, very carefully. It proved to be a perfectly normal door, however. Rusty told Dick to call again and held conversation with them over the banister until they had reached the street door, while from a second floor room came howls of “Shut up, Rusty! Shu-u-ut u-u-up!”
“It’s only Haynes,” called Rusty reassuringly. “Don’t mind the poor fish. Come again, fellows! Good night!”
In the letter rack in Sohmer was another envelope addressed to Dick and within was a third penny.
CHAPTER VI
DICK MAKES AN ENEMY
That was on Friday. The next afternoon Parkinson played her first game, with Mapleton School. Mapleton had started the Parkinson schedule for several years, invariably providing just the amount of fight desired, and today was no exception to the established rule. Four ten-minute periods were played and Parkinson managed to run up seventeen points. It was a slow and uninteresting game from the spectators’ standpoint, and the afternoon was scorchingly hot for the last of September. “Babe” Upton, who weighed well over a hundred and eighty and played centre, affirmed afterwards that he could feel himself melting away like a candle. Indeed, although none of the team was allowed to remain in the contest for more than two periods, there were many who found it hard medicine. Dick, who as a member of the squad was supposed to look on and learn, watched the game from the Parkinson bench and sweltered uncomplainingly for the better part of an hour and a half. Naturally enough, his interest concentrated itself on Stone and, later, Cardin, the quarter-backs. He secretly thought that Cardin, with sufficient instruction, could be developed into a better quarter than Gus Stone, for Cardin was a quick, gingery youngster who drove his team hard, while Stone, although more experienced and heavier, had a tendency to go to sleep on his feet, and the plays always dragged just when they should have been run off at top speed. A third candidate, a thin ramrod of a youth, was tried out for a few minutes just at the end of the game. A neighbour told Dick that his name was Pryne, adding facetiously that it ought to be Prune. Pryne had scant opportunity to show whether he deserved the latter appellation, however.
When Mapleton had gone away and the stands had practically emptied, the members of the squad who had taken no part in the game were called out for an hour’s work. Coach Driscoll did not remain, and the job fell to Harry Warden, who because of a weak ankle had been out of his place at left half on the team that afternoon. By some chance the running of one of the three makeshift teams fell to Dick, and, with a few of the candidates who had failed to get placed on the squads following, he started off. The simplest sort of plays were being taught, straight line bucks and runs, outside ends and
