The Crimson Sweater

  CHAPTER VI

  METHUSELAH HAS A SORE THROAT

  Football practice was hard and steady the next week, for Maitland hadtrounced Ferry Hill 17 to 0, and as Maitland was only a high school,albeit a rather large one, the disgrace rankled. Jack Rogers wasn't thesort of chap to wear his heart on his sleeve, and so far as hiscountenance went none would have guessed him to be badly discouraged.But he was, and Roy, for one, knew it. And I think Jack knew that heknew it, for once in a lull of the signal practice he looked up to findRoy's eyes on him sympathetically, and he smiled back with a dubiousshake of his head that spoke volumes. Things weren't going very well,and that was a fact. The loss of Horace Burlen during that first monthof practice meant a good deal, for Horace was a steady center and anexperienced one. To a lesser extent the absence of Pryor and Warren,Horace's friends in exile, retarded the development of the team. By theend of the second week of practice a provisional eleven had been formed,for Mr. Cobb believed in getting the men together as soon as possible,having learned from experience that team work is not a thing that canbe instilled in a mere week or two of practice. Whitcomb was playingcenter on the first squad in Horace's absence. Roy was at quarter on thesecond, with a slow-moving young giant named Forrest in front of him.But Forrest was good-natured as well as slow, and in consequence he andRoy got on very well, although they never exchanged unnecessary remarks.The back field had learned that Jack Rogers would not stand anynonsense, and if they had any desire to make things uncomfortable forthe quarter-back they didn't indulge it on the football field. Thesecond stood up very well in those days before the first, in spite ofthe fact that sometimes there weren't enough candidates to fill theplaces of injured players. With only forty-odd fellows to draw from itwas remarkable that Ferry Hill turned out the teams that it did.

  Meanwhile life was growing easier for Roy. Even the younger boys hadbegun to tire of showing their contempt, while the fact that Chub Eatonhad "taken up" the new boy went a long way with the school in general.Chub was not popular in the closest sense of the word; he was far tooindifferent for that; but every fellow who knew him at all likedhim--with the possible exception of Horace--and his position of baseballcaptain made him a person of importance. Consequently, when the schoolobserved that Chub had selected Roy for a friend it marvelled for a fewdays and then began to wonder whether there might not be, after all,extenuating circumstances in the new boy's favor. And besides thisRoy's work on the gridiron had been from the first of the sort tocommand respect no matter how unwilling. And it was about this time thatanother friend was restored to him.

  Roy had come across Harry but once or twice since she had passed him inthe campus, and each time he had been very careful to avoid her. But onemorning he ran plump into her in the corridor of School Hall, so plump,in fact, that he knocked the book she was carrying from her hand. Ofcourse there was nothing to do but stoop and rescue it from the floor,and when that was done it was too late to escape. As he handed the bookback to her he looked defiantly into the blue eyes and said, "Goodmorning, Miss Harriet." Strange to say, he was not immediatelyannihilated. Instead the blue eyes smiled at him with a most friendlygleam, and,

  "Good morning," said Harry. Then, "Only I oughtn't to answer you forcalling me 'Miss Harriet'; you know I hate Harriet."

  "Excuse me, I meant Miss _Harry_," answered Roy a trifle stiffly. It washard to forget that cut direct.

  "That's better," she said. "You--you haven't been down to inquire afterthe health of the baby since you rescued him."

  "No, but I hope he's all right?"

  "Yes, but Methuselah is awfully sick."

  "He's the parrot, isn't he?" asked Roy. "What's wrong with the oldsinner?"

  "He's got a dreadful sore throat," was the reply. "I've tied it up witha cloth soaked in turpentine half a dozen times, but he just won't letit be."

  "Are you sure it's sore throat?" asked Roy gravely.

  "Yes, his voice is almost gone. Why, he can scarcely talk above awhisper!"

  Roy thought to himself that that wasn't such a catastrophe as Harryintimated, but he was careful not to suggest such a thing to her.Instead he looked properly regretful.

  "Don't you want to see him?" asked Harry, in the manner of oneconferring an unusual favor. Roy declared that he did and Harry led theway toward the barn, her red hair radiant in the morning sunlight. Onthe way they passed two of the boys, who observed them with open-eyedsurprise. Harry's favor was not easy to win and, being won, something toprize, since she stood near the throne and was popularly believed to beable to command favors for her friends.

  Methuselah certainly did look sick. He was perched on the edge of hissoap box domicile, viewing the world with pessimistic eyes, when Harryconducted the visitor into the enclosure and sent the pigeons whirlinginto air. Harry went to him and stroked his head with her finger.

  "Poor old 'Thuselah," she murmured. "Did he have a sore throat? Well, itwas a nasty, mean shame. But he's a naughty boy for scratching off thebandage Harry put on. What have you done with it? You haven't--" shelooked about the box and the ground and then viewed the birdsternly--"you haven't eaten it?"

  Methuselah cocked his eyes at her in a world-wearied way that seemed tosay, "Well, what if I have? I might as well die one way as another." ButRoy discovered the bedraggled length of linen a little way off andrestored it to Harry.

  "I'm so glad!" said the girl with a sigh of relief. "I didn't know buthe might have, you know. Why, once he actually ate a whole ounce ofturnip seeds!"

  "Hurt him?" asked Roy interestedly.

  "N-no, I don't believe so, but I was awfully afraid it would. John, thegardener, said he'd have appendicitis. But then, John was mad because heneeded the seeds."

  Methuselah had closed his eyes and now looked as though resolved to dieat once and get it over with. But at that moment Snip trotted out fromthe barn, where he had been hunting for rats, and hailed Roy as along-lost friend. Perhaps the incident saved the bird's life. At leastit caused him to alter his mind about dying at once, for he blinked hiseyes open, watched the performance for a moment and then broke out in ahoarse croak with:

  "Stop your swearing! Stop your swearing! Stop your swearing! Stop yourswearing!"

  It was such a pathetic apology for a voice that Roy had to laugh even atthe risk of wounding Harry's feelings. But Harry, too, found it amusingand joined her laugh with his. Whereupon Methuselah mocked themsarcastically in tones that suggested the indelicacy of laughing at adying friend.

  "I think," said Harry, "he'd like you to scratch his head."

  Roy looked doubtfully at the bird and the bird looked suspiciously atRoy, but when the latter had summoned up sufficient courage to allow ofthe experiment Methuselah closed his eyes and bent his head in evidentappreciation and enjoyment.

  "I don't believe you're nearly so sick as you're making out," said Roy."I believe you're an old bluffer."

  And the bird actually chuckled!

  Harry doused the bandage with turpentine again and once more tied itaround Methuselah's neck.

  "Now don't you dare scratch it off again," she commanded severely,shaking her finger at him.

  "Well, I never--" began the bird. But weariness overcame him in themiddle of the sentence and he closed his beady eyes again and noddedsleepily.

  "I don't believe he slept very well last night," confided Harry in awhisper.

  "Maybe he was cold," Roy suggested.

  "I've thought of that. I don't usually move them indoors until muchlater," said Harry thoughtfully, "but the weather is so cold this Fallthat I think I'll put them in to-day. Maybe he's been sleeping in adraft. Mamma says that will almost always give you a sore throat."

  They walked back to the cottage together and on the way Harry wasunusually quiet. Finally, when Roy had pleaded a recitation, sheunburdened her mind and conscience.

  "I--I'm sorry about the other day," she said suddenly.

  Roy, who had turned away, looked around in surprise.

  "I mean when I did
n't speak to you one morning," explained Harrybravely. Her cheeks were furiously red and Roy found himself sharing herembarrassment.

  "Oh, that's all right," he muttered.

  "No, it isn't all right," contradicted Harry. "It was a low-down thingto do and I was sorry right away. Only you didn't look and so--so I--Ididn't call you. I--I wish you had looked. It was all Horace's fault. Hesaid--said--"

  "Yes, I guess I know what he said," interrupted Roy. "But supposing whathe said is so?"

  "I wouldn't care--much," was the answer. "But I know it isn't so! Isit?"

  Roy dropped his eyes and hesitated. Then,

  "No," he muttered. "It isn't so, Harry."

  "I knew it!" she cried triumphantly. "I told him I knew it afterwards!And he said girls weren't proper persons to judge of such things, and Idon't see what that's got to do with my knowing--what I know, do you?"

  Roy had to acknowledge that he didn't.

  "And you're not cross with me, are you?" she demanded anxiously.

  "Not a bit," he said.

  "That's nice. I don't like folks I like to not like--Oh, dear me! I'mall balled up! Only I mustn't say 'balled up.' I meant that Iwas--confused. Anyway, I'm going to tell all the boys that it isn't so,that you didn't squeal--I mean _tell_--on Horace and the others! And Ithink it was a nasty trick to play on you! Why, you might have caughtyour death of cold!"

  "Or a sore throat, like Methuselah," said Roy, smiling.

  "Or you might have been drowned. Once there was a boy drowned here, along, long time ago, when I was just a kid. It was very sad. But youweren't drowned, were you? And so there's no use in supposing, is there?But I'm going to tell the boys that--"

  "I'd rather you didn't, please, Harry," broke in Roy.

  Harry, who was becoming quite enthusiastic and excited, opened her eyesvery wide.

  "Not tell?" she cried. "Why not?"

  "Well," answered Roy hesitatingly, "I--I'd rather you didn't."

  "No reason!" said Harry scornfully.

  "If they think I'd do such a thing," muttered Roy, "they can just keepon thinking so. I guess I can stand it."

  Harry looked puzzled for a moment; she was trying to get at his point ofview; then her face lighted.

  "Splendid!" she cried. "You're going to be a martyr and be misunderstoodlike--like somebody in a book I was reading! And some day, long afteryou're gone--" Harry looked vaguely about as though searching for theplace Roy was to go to--"folks will discover that you're innocent andthey'll be very, very sorry and erect a white marble shaft to yourcherished memory!" She ended much out of breath, but still enthusiastic,to find Roy laughing at her.

  "I guess I'm not hankering for any martyr business, Harry. It isn't thatexactly; I don't know just what it is. But if you won't say anythingabout it I'll be awfully much obliged."

  "Well, then, I won't," promised Harry regretfully. "Only I do wish youwere going to be a martyr!"

  "I shall be if I don't hurry," answered Roy. "I have math with Mr.Buckman in about half a minute."

  "Pooh! No one's afraid of Buck!" said Harry scornfully. "Cobby's the oneto look out for; he's awfully strict." Roy was already making for SchoolHall. "You'll come and see Methuselah again soon, won't you?"

  "Yes," called Roy.

  "And you'll play tennis with me some day, too?"

  "I don't play very well."

  "Never mind," answered Harry, "I'll teach you. Good bye!"