CHAPTER IX.
FOOTBALL.
None of our crowd had reached what the grown-ups call "the boy age." Wehad our heroes of romance that it was difficult for any of the malepersuasion in real life to live up to. Tweedles declared that Zebedeewas boy enough for them; although Dum thought if she ever met a Prosperle Gai she might consider him; while Dee had an idea a boy like Laurie,in "Little Women," would be some sport and she might be willing to knockaround with him a bit. Jane Eyre's "Mr. Rochester" was my beau ideal.
"I want a dark, masterful lover who could tie the poker up in a bowknotif he had a mind to; a rude man who could bring tears to my eyes by hisgruffness, and then, with the gentleness of a woman, soothe my achinghead."
"Oh, Page," chimed in Annie Pore, "how could you want such a ruffian? Ilike Henry Esmond, so kind and courteous and dignified----"
"Yes, and as stiff as a poker. My 'Mr. Rochester' could tie him up in abowknot in no time----"
"And soothe your aching head with him, too, I fancy. I think a man whois rude enough to make a woman cry and strong enough to tie up pokerswould be more than likely to beat his wife with said poker." This fromMary Flannigan, who was in our room during the discussion of ourfavorite heroes. "I want 'Charles O'Malley' or nothing. Give me a manwho is gay and rollicking, at the same time good-tempered and kindly ifquick to fight withal."
We had to laugh at Mary. She was such a little Mother Bunch, with hercrinkly red hair bushing out around her fat freckled face,--hardly alikely person to attract a hero of romance. Mary wore as many petticoatsas Mammy Susan and all of them were tied around her waist with drawstrings. I verily believe that she and Mammy Susan were the only personsleft in the world who wore red flannel petticoats. In that day andgeneration when slimiky skirts were the rage, you can fancy how Marylooked with her gathered skirts. She also had a leaning toward deepruffles around her neck, which more than ever gave her the look of aclown dog.
She had a way of breaking into the conversation very much as the clowndog breaks into the ring, and no matter how serious she was, we simplyhad to laugh at her. She was very good-natured and not the least bittouchy. We laughed at her general bunchiness just because we couldn'thelp it, but one and all liked her for her good temper and ready wit andrespected her for her excellent standing in her classes, where she wasthe youngest pupil. We also envied her the delightful stunts that Ibelieve I have mentioned before.
"I'd rather be able to go like a dog, the way Mary can, than make thefinest statue of one that ever was done," sighed Dum.
"Nonsense, Dum. Anybody can go like a dog with a little practice, but tomake one in clay is going some. But to return to our lovers: what doyou girls say to taking in the football game over at Hill-Top? Theseniors are going, one and all, and Miss Peyton says any of us can gowho wish. Miss Cox will chaperon the sophomores."
Hill-Top was a boys' school on the other side of the village fromGresham Academy, and young ladies from our school were always invited tothe match games there; and our school in turn sent a formal invitationto the pupils of Hill-Top when an interesting basketball game was to beplayed at Gresham.
"Oh, do come, all of you. I've never seen a game of football in my lifeand I'm just wild to," I begged.
"I guess I won't go," said Annie.
"Well, I think you've got another guess coming, unless you have apowerful good reason," I exclaimed.
"My only reason is that I am so embarrassed with boys," and poor Anniegave her usual painful blush.
"Oh, you won't have to speak to the boys. They never notice the Sophs,anyhow, but give all their twaddle to the Juniors and Seniors. If aboy, old enough to walk 'loney, breaks through Mabel Binks' guard, he isa hero for fair," laughed Dee.
So, Annie's objections overcome, we hurried her and Mary off to put ontheir hats and wraps, and quickly donning our own, got downstairs justin time to form in line with the Sophomores, who were starting under theleadership of Miss Cox for the game at Hill-Top.
"I'm glad to see you are going, Page," said Margaret Sayre, as shehooked her arm in mine. "I am to help Miss Cox keep order, although Idon't really think I am needed. Sophomores are never boy crazy. TheJuniors are the ones, as a rule, that need quieting. Sometimes I wonderwhere all the bad Juniors go to and where all the good Seniors comefrom."
"Well, I reckon the bad Juniors were once good Sophomores and they canjust as easily turn into good Seniors," I responded.
The Juniors at Gresham were a rather wild lot and they had as a leaderMabel Binks, who, although she was a Senior, chose her friends entirelyamong the Juniors. The truth of the matter was, as Mammy Susan used tosay, Mabel would rather be a "king among buzzards than a buzzard amongkings." The Seniors would have none of her leadership and among them shehad to take a back seat; while the Juniors welcomed her to their rankswith joy, not realizing why she had chosen them, and flattered by hernotice.
The long line of girls, two abreast, wound its way through the streetsof the little town and out into the country again to the boys' school.It was really a very pretty sight, this row of blooming, happy girls,all ages and sizes, dressed in the universally becoming dark blue, withtheir jaunty velvet sailor hats perched at every conceivable angle onheads of hair of every conceivable color.
"Doesn't Annie Pore look pretty in her new hat?" whispered Miss Sayre.
These velvet sailors were ordered by the school and every pupil wasobliged to have one. All of us were glad that Annie was forced todiscard her forlorn-looking crepe hat that looked for all the worldlike a last year's bird's nest. The black velvet sailor was exactlyright for her, throwing into pleasing contrast her milk-white skin, andbringing out the wonderful tints in her ripe-wheat hair. Jo Barr withwonderful tact had managed to change the hang of her dragging skirt andit was now even around the bottom.
"I think she is beautiful and she is really very fine in many ways. Ihave grown so fond of her. All of us have. And I think Dum and Dee arehaving a splendid effect on her spirits, for she is not nearly solugubrious."
"Dum and Dee may be having a fine effect, too," laughed Miss Sayre, "buta girl named Page Allison is doing her part. All the faculty notice it.I wish someone like you could be in every class, someone to leaven thewhole lump with a certain quality of camaraderie. Annie Pore was asforlorn a specimen of humanity as ever stepped out of a 'bus that firstday here, and now look at her!"
Annie was laughing heartily as Mary Flannigan made a noise like a sickkitten, throwing her voice, with her powers as a ventriloquist, so itseemed to come from a clump of sumac by the roadside. Dee was peeringeagerly into the bushes before she caught on to the joke. Annie Porecertainly did not look like the same girl. No one would think ofnicknaming her "Orphan Annie" now. The name clung to her, however, amonga certain class, thanks to Mabel Binks, who had not been able to forgiveor forget the laugh raised against her by Annie on the first day ofschool.
Hill-Top was built much in the same style as Gresham, and it, too, hadthe Parthenon effect with its big white pillars. The view was not quiteso fine as ours, but from the little experience I had had of boys, Iimagined they did not go in for views to any great extent.
"A primrose by the river's brink, A common primrose was to him and nothing more."
For that matter, I noticed that mighty few of the girls at Greshamappreciated the view, and as Miss Sayre said, thought more of dessertfor dinner than of the view of the mountains.
The game was just starting as we arrived, so we seated ourselves on thebenches provided for the visitors with as little stir as possible. Dumgot on the other side of me to put me on to the points of the great gameof football.
"It seems too foolish and backwoodsy for me never to have seen a game,"I said, "but at Milton everyone is too old to do more than walk througha set of croquet or too young to do more than bounce a rubber ball.Father occasionally threatens to go up to Richmond for theVirginia-Carolina game at Thanksgiving, but somebody is always coming orgoing (I mean getting born or dying), and we h
ave never made it yet."
"Never mind, honey," and Dum gave me a hug, "you'll learn all the pointsof the game to-day, and some time when we are back in Richmond, Zebedeewill give us a great football party. We always go to the Thanksgivinggame. I don't see what Zebedee will do without us this year."
"Who, that good-looking pa of yours?" said Mabel Binks, who was seatedright in front of us, with the Juniors, as usual. "Why, I'll wager hecan find someone to take your place. I bet he's having a pretty goodtime with you kids off his hands."
Dum's hands clinched and unclinched. Her eyes were closed and her lipsmoving. I had not lived with the Tucker Twins for several weeks withoutfinding out what that meant. When Dum did that way, it meant she wastrying to control her temper. Her lips formed these words: "Oh, God,make me good! Don't let me biff Mabel Binks! Don't let me biff MabelBinks!"
For a moment the wicked wish came into my heart that she would "biffMabel Binks"; but when I thought of the consternation it would arouse inGresham and the disgrace to our class, to say nothing of poor hot-headedDum, I felt ashamed of myself for harboring such a militant desire. Islipped my hand over Dum's clenched fist and in a moment I felt itrelax.
"Thank you, Page. God answered my prayer quicker than usual, thanks toyou," and Dum gave a great sigh of relief. "It seemed to me almost likeit would be wrong if I didn't hit her. Zebedee would fight for us anyday and I don't see why I can't fight for him."
"Well, when you come down to facts, Dum, Mabel Binks did not sayanything derogatory of your father. She said he was good-looking andintimated that he was naturally popular. I fancy she would like to go tothe Thanksgiving game herself with him. There is nothing for you tofight about. I have an idea that Mr. Tucker can take care of himselfenough not to take her to the game at least," I whispered; and Dumlaughed aloud so that Mabel turned around and asked, "What's the joke?"And Dum had the satisfaction of saying in honeyed tones: "One of the kidjokes that I fancy you would not appreciate."
The game of football at first impressed me as little more than a tangleof legs, and a dog fight at Bracken had more sense to it; but as Dumexplained the points, I began to see some method in the seeming madnessof twenty-two boys lying down on one poor ball and yelling. Needless toadd, I very soon became as enthusiastic about that game as all othergames I ever had any knowledge of, and before the football season wasover I was as rabid a rooter as the Tuckers themselves.
"I believe you are a born lover of games, Page," said Miss Sayre,smiling as my enthusiasm got the better of me and I let out a piercingshriek in honor of a short, bow-legged boy who had seized the ball at acrucial moment and literally dodged his way through the Seniors and madea goal. The game was between the Seniors and Sophomores, and of coursethe Sophomores of Gresham were in honor bound to root for the Sophomoresof Hill-Top.
"Who's all right? Who's all right? Shorty!--Shorty! Out of sight!"
yelled the class for their bow-legged hero, and then the Seniors gavehim fifteen 'rahs. Seniors always have a special feeling for Sophomoresand a game between them is usually a very friendly bout. Of course theSeniors do not exactly want to be beaten, but they take a great delightin the prowess of their pet class. In spite of Shorty's good playingand a great deal of good playing from the other ten Sophomores, theSeniors won, which was quite meet and proper. The younger boys had putup a good fight and were much applauded by their elders.