CHAPTER XII
THE JOKE ON MR. MOLLER
AMY BYRD started it.
Or, perhaps, in the last analysis, Mr. Moller began it himself. Mr.Moller's first name was Caleb, a fact which the school was quick toseize on. At first he was just "Caleb," then "Caleb the Conqueror," and,finally, "The Conqueror." The "Conqueror" part of it was added inrecognition of Mr. Moller's habit of attiring himself for the class roomas for an afternoon tea. He was a new member of the faculty that falland Brimfield required more than the few weeks which had elapsed sincehis advent to grow accustomed to his grandeur of apparel. Mr. CalebMoller was a good-looking, in fact quite a handsome young man oftwenty-five or six, well-built, tall and the proud possessor of acarefully trimmed moustache and Vandyke beard, the latter probablycultivated in the endeavour to add to his apparent age. He affectedlight grey trousers, fancy waistcoats of inoffensive shades, a frockcoat, grey gaiters and patent leather shoes. His scarf was alwayspierced with a small black pearl pin. There's no denying that Mr. Mollerknew how to dress or that the effect was pleasing. But Brimfield wasn'teducated to such magnificence and Brimfield gasped loudly the first timeMr. Moller burst on its sight. Afterward it laughed until the noveltybegan to wear off. Mr. Moller was a capable instructor and a likeableman, although it took Brimfield all of the first term to discover thelatter fact owing to the master's dignified aloofness. Being but a scanteight years the senior of some of his pupils, he perhaps felt itnecessary to emphasise his dignity a little. By the last of October,however, the school had accepted Mr. Moller and was, possibly, secretlya little proud to have for a member of its faculty one who possessedsuch excellent taste in the matter of attire. He was universally voted"a swell dresser," and not a few of the older fellows set themselves toa modest emulation of his style. There remained, however, manyunregenerate youths who continued to poke fun at "The Conqueror," and ofthese was Amy Byrd.
It isn't beyond the bounds of reason that jealousy may have hadsomething to do with Amy's attitude, for Amy was "a swell dresser"himself and had a fine eye for effects of colour. Amy's combinations oflavender or dull rose or pearl-grey shirts, socks and ties wererecognised masterpieces of sartorial achievement. The trouble with Amywas that when the tennis season was over he had nothing to interesthimself in aside from maintaining a fairly satisfactory standing inclass, and I'm sorry to say that Amy didn't find the latter undertakingwildly exciting. He was, therefore, an excellent subject for themischief microbe, and the mischief microbe had long since discovered thefact. Usually Amy's escapades were harmless enough; for that matter, thepresent one was never intended to lead to any such unfortunate resultsas actually attended it; and in justice to Amy it should be distinctlystated that he would never have gone into the affair had he foreseen theend of it. But he couldn't see any further into the future than you orI, and so--yes, on the whole, I think it may be fairly said that AmyByrd started it.
It was on a Tuesday, what time Amy should have been deep in study, thatClint Thayer, across the table, had his attention wrested from his bookby the sound of deep, mirthful chuckles. He glanced over questioningly.Amy continued to chuckle until, being bidden to share the joke or shutup, he took Clint into his confidence. Clint was forced to chuckle somehimself when he had heard Amy through, but the chuckles were followed byearnest efforts to dissuade his friend from his proposed scheme.
"He won't stand for it, Amy," Clint protested. "He will report the lotof you to Josh and you'll be in a peck of trouble. It would be terriblyfunny, all right, but you'd better not try it."
"Funny! My friend, it would be excruciating! And I certainly am going tohave a stab at it. Let's see who will go into it. Steve Edwards--no,Steve wouldn't, of course. Tom Hall will, I'll bet. And Roy Draper andHarry Wescott, probably. We ought to get as many of the fellows as wecan. I wish you were in that class, Clint."
"I don't. You're a chump to try such a trick, Amy. You'll get pro forsure. Maybe worse. I don't believe Moller can take a joke; he's toohaughty."
"Oh, rot! He will take it all right. Anyway, what kick can he have? Wefellows have just as much right to----"
"You'll wish you hadn't," said Clint. "See if you don't!"
Clint's prophecy proved true, and Amy did wish he hadn't, but that wassome days later, and just now he was far too absorbed in planning hislittle joke to trouble himself about what might happen as a result. Assoon as study hour was over he departed precipitately from Number 14.Torrence and Clint saw no more of him until bedtime. Then his questionsmet only with more chuckles and evasion.
The result did not appear until two days later, which brings our tale tothe forenoon of that unlucky Thursday preceeding the Southby contest.Mr. Moller's class in Physics 2 met at eleven o'clock that morning.Physics was an elective course with the Fifth Form and a popular one,many of the fellows taking it only to fill out their necessary eighteenhours a week. Mr. Moller, attired as usual with artistic nicety, sat inhis swivel chair, facing the windows, and drummed softly on the top ofthe desk with immaculate finger-tips and waited for the class toassemble.
Had he been observing the arriving students instead of the tree-topsoutside he might have noticed the peculiar fact that this morning, asthough by common consent, the students were avoiding the first two rowsof seats nearest the platform. But he didn't notice it. In fact, hedidn't turn his head until the gong in the lower hall struck and,simultaneously, there sounded in the room the carefully-timed tread ofmany feet. Then "The Conqueror" swung around in his chair, felt for theblack ribbon which held his tortoise shell glasses and, in the act oflifting the glasses to his well-shaped nose, paused and stared.
Down the side aisle of the room, keeping step, grave of mien, walkednine boys led by the sober-countenanced Amy Byrd. Each was attired in asnear an approach to Mr. Moller's style as had been possible with thewardrobes at command. Not all--in fact, only two--wore frock coats, andnot all had been able to supply themselves with light grey trousers, butthe substitutions were very effective, and in no case was a fancywaistcoat wanting. Wing collars encircled every throat, grey silkscarves were tied with careful precision, stick-pins were at the propercareless tilt, spats, some grey, some tan, some black, covered eachankle, a handkerchief protruded a virgin corner from every right sleeveand over every vest dangled a black silk ribbon. That only a few of themended in glasses was merely because the supply of those aids to visionhad proved inadequate to the demand. Soberly and amidst an appallingsilence the nine exquisites paced to the front of the room and disposedthemselves in the first two rows.
Mr. Moller, his face extremely red, watched without word or motion. Therest of the class, their countenances too showing an unnaturalruddiness, likewise maintained silence and immobility until the last ofthe nine had shuffled his feet into place. Then there burst upon thestillness a snigger which, faint as it was, sounded startlingly loud.Whereupon pent up emotions broke loose and a burst of laughter went upthat shook the windows.
It seemed for a minute that that laughter would never stop. Fellowsrolled in their seats and beat futilely on the arms of their chairs,gasping for breath and sobriety. And through it all Mr. Moller stared ina sort of dazed amazement. And then, when the laughter had somewhatabated, he arose, one hand on the desk and the other agitatedlyfingering his black ribbon, and the colour poured out of his cheeks,leaving them strangely pallid. And Amy, furtively studying him, knewthat Clint had been right, that Mr. Moller couldn't take a joke, or, inany event, had no intention of taking this one. Amy wasn't frightenedfor himself, in fact he wasn't frightened at all, but he did experiencea twinge of regret for the others whom he had led into the affair. ThenMr. Moller was speaking and Amy forgot regrets and listened.
"I am going to give you young gentlemen"--was it imagination on Amy'spart or had the instructor placed the least bit of emphasis on the lastword--"two minutes more in which to recover from your merriment. At theend of that time I shall expect you to be quiet and orderly and ready tobegin this recitation." He drew his watch from his pocket and
laid it onthe desk. "So that you may enjoy this--this brilliant jest to the full,I'll ask the nine young gentleman in the front rows to stand up and faceyou. If you please, Hall, Stearns, Draper, Fanning, Byrd----"
It was several seconds before this request was responded to. Then Amyarose and, one by one, the others followed and faced the room. Amymanaged to retain his expression of calm innocence, but the others wereill at ease and many faces looked very sheepish.
"Now, then," announced Mr. Moller quietly. "Begin, please. You have twominutes."
A dismal silence ensued, a silence broken at intervals by a nervouscough or the embarrassed shuffling of feet. Mr. Moller calmly dividedhis attention between the class and the watch. Surely never had onehundred and twenty seconds ticked themselves away so slowly. There was anoticeable disinclination on the part of the students to meet the gazeof the instructor, nor did they seem any more eager to view the variousand generally painful emotions expressed on the countenances of thenine. At last Mr. Moller took up his watch and returned it with itsdangling fob to his pocket, and as he did so some thirty sighs of reliefsounded in the stillness.
"Time's up," announced the instructor. "Be seated, young gentlemen.Thank you very much." The nine sank gratefully into their chairs. "I amsure that we have all enjoyed your joke vastly. You must pardon me if,just at first, I seemed to miss the humour of it. I can assure you thatI am now quite--quite _sympathique_. We are told that imitation is thesincerest flattery, and I accept the compliment in the spirit in whichyou have tendered it. Again I thank you."
Mr. Moller bowed gravely and sat down.
Glances, furtive and incredulous, passed from boy to boy. Amy heaved asigh of relief. After all, then, Mr. Moller could take a joke! And forthe first time since the inception of the brilliant idea Amy felt anemotion very much like regret! And then the recitation began.
That would have ended the episode had not Chance taken a hand inaffairs. Mr. Fernald very seldom visited a class room duringrecitations. One could count such occurrences on one hand and the resultwould have sufficed for the school year. And yet today, for some reasonnever apparent to the boys, Mr. Fernald happened in.
Harry Westcott was holding forth when the principal's tread caught hisattention. Westcott turned his head, saw and instantly stopped.
"Proceed, Westcott," said Mr. Fernald.
Westcott continued, stammeringly and much at random. Mr. Fernald quietlywalked up the aisle to the platform. Mr. Moller arose and for a momentthe two spoke in low tones. Then the principal nodded, smiled and turnedto retrace his steps. As he did so his smiling regard fell upon theoccupants of the two front rows. A look of puzzlement banished thesmile. Bewilderment followed that. Westcott faltered and stoppedaltogether. A horrible silence ensued. Then Mr. Fernald turned aninquiring look upon the instructor.
"May I ask," he said coldly, "what this--this quaint exhibition isintended to convey?"
Mr. Moller hesitated an instant. Then: "I think I can explain it better,sir, later on," he replied.
Mr. Fernald bowed, again swept the offenders with a glance of witheringcontempt and took his departure. Mr. Moller looked troubledly after himbefore he turned to Westcott and said kindly: "Now, Westcott, we willgo on, if you please."
What passed between principal and instructor later that day was notknown, but the result of the interview appeared the next morning whenMr. Fernald announced in chapel that because they had seen fit topublicly insult a member of the faculty he considered it only just topublicly inform the following students that they were placed onprobation until further notice. Then followed the names of Hall,Westcott, Byrd, Draper and five others. Mr. Fernald added that but forthe intercession of the faculty member whom they had so vilely affrontedthe punishment would have been far heavier.
Nine very depressed youths took their departure from chapel thatmorning. To Tom Hall, since the edict meant that he could not play anymore football that season, unless, which was scarcely probable, facultyrelented within a week or so, the blow was far heavier than to any ofthe others. Being on probation was never a state to be sought for, butwhen one was in his last year at school and had looked forward to endinghis football career in a blaze of glory, probation was just about as badas being expelled. In fact, for a day or two Tom almost wished that Mr.Fernald had selected the latter punishment. What made things harder tobear was the attitude of coaches and players and the school at large.After the first shock of surprise and dismay, they had agreed withremarkable unanimity that Tom had not only played the fool, but hadproved himself a traitor, and they didn't fail to let Tom know theirverdict. For several days he was as nearly ostracised as it was possibleto be, and those days were very unhappy ones for him.
Of course Tom was not utterly deserted. Steve Edwards stood by himfirmly, fought public opinion, narrowly escaped a pitched battle withthe president of the Sixth Form, worried Coach Robey to death with hisdemands that that gentler man intercede for Tom at the office and triedhis best all the time to keep Tom's spirits up. Clint and Don and Timand a few others remained steadfast, as did Amy, who, blaming himselfbitterly for Tom's fix, had done everything he could do to atone.Following that edict in chapel, Amy had sought audience with Mr. Fernaldand begged clemency for the others.
"You see, sir," Amy had pleaded earnestly, "I was the one who startedit. The others would never have gone into it if I hadn't just simplymade them. Why----"
Mr. Fernald smiled faintly. "You're trying to convince me, Byrd, thatboys like Draper and Hall and Stearns and Westcott are so weak-willedthat they allowed you to drag them into this thing against their betterjudgment and inclinations?"
"Yes, sir! At least--perhaps not exactly that, Mr. Fernald, but I--Inagged them and dared them, you see, sir, and they didn't like to bedared and they just did it to shut me up."
"It's decent of you, Byrd, to try to assume all the blame, but yourstory doesn't carry conviction. Even if it did, I should be sorelytempted to let the verdict stand, for I should consider boys who were soeasily dragged into mischief badly in need of discipline. I do wishyou'd tell me one thing, Byrd. How could a fellow, a manly, decentfellow like you, think up such a caddish trick? Wounding another man'sfeelings, Byrd, isn't really funny, if you stop to consider it."
"I didn't mean to hurt Mr. Moller's feelings, sir," replied Amyearnestly. "We--I thought it would just be a--a sort of a good joke todress like him, sir, and--and get a laugh from the class. I'm sorry. Iguess it was a pretty rotten thing to do, sir. Only I didn't think aboutit that way."
"I believe that. Since you've been here, Byrd, you've been into more orless mischief, but I've never known you to be guilty before of anythingin such utterly bad taste. Unfortunately, however, I can't excuse youbecause you didn't think. You should have thought."
"Yes, sir," agreed Amy eagerly, "and I don't expect to be excused, sir.I only thought that maybe you'd let up on the others if you knew how itall happened. I thought maybe it would do just as well if you expelledme, sir, and let the other fellows off easy. Tom Hall----"
"I see. It's Hall who's worrying you, is it? You're afraid Hall'sabsence from the team may result disastrously! Possibly it will. If itdoes I shall be sorry, but Hall will have to take his medicine just likethe rest of you. Perhaps this will teach you all to think a littlebefore you act. No, Byrd, I shall have to refuse your offer. Expellingyou would not be disciplining the rest, nor would it be an equitabledivision of punishment. The verdict must stand, my boy."
Amy went sorrowfully forth and announced the result to Clint. "I thinkhe might have done what I wanted," he complained a trifle resentfully.
"You're an utter ass," said Clint with unflattering conviction. "Whatgood would it do you to get fired in your last year?"
"None, but if he'd have let the others off----"
"Do you suppose that the others would have agreed to any such bargain?They're not kids, even if you try to make them out so. They went intothe thing with their eyes open and are just as much to blame as you are.They wouldn't let
you be the goat, you idiot!"
"They needn't have known anything about it, Clint. Oh, well, I supposethere's no use fussing. I don't care about the others. It's Tom I'msorry for. And the team, too. Pryme can't fill Tom's shoes, and we'llget everlastingly walloped, and it'll be my fault, and----"
"Piffle! Tom's a good player, one of the best, but he isn't the wholeteam. Pryme will play the position nearly as well. I'm sorry for Tom,too, but he's the one who will have to do the worrying, I guess. Now youbuck up and quit looking like a kicked cur."
"If only the fellows didn't have it in for him the way they have,"mourned Amy. "Everyone's down on him and he knows it and he's worried todeath about it. They're a lot of rotters! After the way Tom's worked onthat team ever since he got on it! Why, he's done enough for the schoolif he never played another lick at anything! And I'll tell you anotherthing. Someone's going to get licked if I hear any more of thisknocking!"
"You'll have to lick most of the school then," replied Clint calmly."Try not to be a bigger chump than nature made you, Amy. You can't blamethe fellows for being a bit sore at Tom. I am myself. Only I realisethat he didn't mean to get into trouble with the office, and the rest ofthem don't, I reckon. It'll all blow over in a few days. Cheer up. Amonth from now you won't care a whoop."
"If we're beaten by Claflin I'll get out of school," answered Amydolefully.
"All right, son, but don't begin to pack your trunk yet. We won't be."