Tutors' Lane

  XIV

  When Tom reached the Whitman house on the day of the race, he found itfull. He had seen Nancy only once since her illness; and as her room hadthen been filled with people, his call was not remarkable. He had notfailed to notice, nevertheless, that the colour came into her face as heentered the room; and there had been other auspicious signs which hadhad an exciting effect upon his pulse. This call had been made only twodays before the race, and it was then clear that Nancy could not go withhim. A Philadelphia cousin had, however, announced her arrival--aparticular friend of hers being in the Woodbridge boat--and would Tommind taking her? Uncle Bob Whitman had wonderful seats, being anOverseer, but he wasn't going to be able to use them, and--of course Tomwould be only too happy to take her.

  Nancy, pale and lovely, was serving tea, but she found time to thank himagain for his goodness about the Philadelphia cousin, and then she tookhim over to be presented. On the way across the room they passed Henry.Tom, who stared at him, missed the tell-tale blush on Nancy's cheeks.Instead, he only saw Henry shift his eyes calmly from Nancy to him andbow coldly. Tom bowed as coldly in his turn, and then Nancy left himwith the Philadelphia cousin.

  Lily Griffin, the Philadelphia cousin, gazed at him steadily from underthe floppy expanse of her black hat. She was sitting on a low canecovered bench before the fireplace, and her legs, which were encased inlight grey silk stockings and which terminated in slippers of the samecolour, her legs, let it be relentlessly repeated, were the mostconspicuous things in the room. Over her shoulders were the thin stringsof an undergarment that Tom thought was generally concealed. Still, onecouldn't be at all sure about such things from one day to the next.

  "Would you mind taking my cigarette?" she asked, handing him the stub.

  "So you know Platt Raeburn," he began amiably when he had returned fromhis pretty task.

  "Yes."

  "He's an awfully nice boy. I know him quite well." Platt was in theStar; and Lily, who knew a great deal about such things, immediatelysuspected that Tom was also. How else would a professor know a crew star"quite well"? Her interest in Tom rose. He had, as a matter of fact,attractive eyes; and that cerise-coloured knitted tie with a pearlstickpin might indicate much.

  "Platt is a nice boy, isn't he?" she continued with a shade moreenthusiasm. "We went on the most wonderful party this Easter. He wasn'tin training then, you know, and I have never seen any one funnier thanhe was. We were at the Greysons' in Ardmore, and Platt thought he wasinsulted by the butler when he took Platt's cigarette off a table andthrew it in the fire. It was burning the table, but old Platt didn'tknow that, and he knocked the man down."

  "It must have been funny," said Tom, who had heard the story before.

  "Oh, it was a scream. I thought I'd die laughing. It was really awfullybad of him, though, don't you think?"

  "Oh, I don't know," said Tom boldly. "I don't think it was so very bad.You've got to expect that sort of thing nowadays."

  "Mercy, I didn't think you'd say that. Aren't you a professor here, orsomething?"

  "Yes, something."

  "Well, but I always thought----"

  "What?" with a smile.

  "Oh, nothing. Say, just between you and I, don't you think this israther slow?" and she gave him a look that showed he was making good.

  The hospitality they were accepting was, of course, his own Nancy's, andto be strictly honourable he should have defended everything, but withcertain definite reservations in his mind he replied, "Deadly."

  "That dreadful old creature over there actually eyed me when I smokedthat last cig." The dreadful old creature was Mrs. Conover, who found itdifficult to reconstruct herself to the present century. "I shouldthink it would be awfully stupid living here. Now, isn't it really?"

  "No, it isn't half bad."

  "Oh, I can see you're a highbrow, like all the rest of them. Personally,I couldn't stand it. I'm too independent, I guess. What a sweet dog."Clarence was before her, arrayed in the Woodbridge colours. "I lovedogs. I've the sweetest little Boston bull bitch at home. She won asilver flask for me last year." She was examining Clarence with the eyeof a practised dogwoman. "Do you know anything about Airedales?" Tomdidn't. "I suspect his tail is wrong," she said. "Now run along,sweetie," she called to Clarence; "momma can't have a baby with wrongtail." Clarence received this incredulously, but a complication wasaverted by the arrival of Nancy. "We were just criticizing your dog, mydear. Why don't you have his tail fixed?"

  "Why, what's the matter with it?" asked Nancy. She hated the thought ofanything having happened to Clarence.

  "Why, it's too long. You should have two inches at least cut off." Thepicture of Clarence going around with his tail done up in a bandage wasa delightful one, and Nancy laughed.

  Lily appealed to Tom. "Isn't she heartless?" But before Tom could answerthe slightly embarrassing question, the cruel one announced that theyhad better be on their way, as the race started at five and it was thenhalf-past four. So they hustled into the Whitman motor and drove toCenter, where the new observation train was already filling.

  The race with Hartley was always one of the great spring events, but thenew observation train made it more of an event than ever. People gloatedover it as though they had never seen a train before, much to theamusement of Lily, whose attendance at New London had been frequent.Many paused admiringly at the engine and, as they passed on up the lineof a dozen cars, loudly proclaimed their admiration of the entirearrangement. "They are just like prairie schooners," said one young man,to Lily's huge delight, for she had never before seen so muchprovincialism all at once. The platform was thick with people rushing tofind their cars at the last minute. All was hurry and excitement andcolour and laughter. The orange of Woodbridge and the olive of Hartleywere everywhere. Each person boldly displayed his colours, whether withflowers or feathers, and it was clear that earth had few greaterpleasures than this. Then the engine tooted and rang its bell, and witha convulsive wrench they were off, amid the cheers of everyone.

  Tom and his Lily were seated between the Hartley cheering section andthe Woodbridge cheering section, in the very choice seats which Mr.Whitman naturally commanded and Tom, although he thought boat racing amuch overrated sport and resented its being preferred to baseball, felta distinct thrill as they passed out upon the river bank and up to thestarting point. Only the cold unseasonable wind which swept down thecourse, riffling the water and chilling every one to the bone, marredthe day.

  They arrived at the starting point, and the occupants of the new carswrapped what little they had around them. Quite obviously, the racecould not be rowed until the wind died. There was nothing to do but justsit and wait.

  The Hartley cheering section immediately climbed down upon the bank,with the exception of one young man who was left with his head lollingover the side of the car next to Tom. Friendly remonstrance had beenfutile. He had refused to move and had elected to slumber. "I think he'ssweet," said Lily, gazing over at him. "Tell me, do you have muchtrouble getting liquor here?"

  "No," said Tom. Already the spell of the day was wearing off.

  "I've learned, to my sorrow that you can't be too careful. Such a timeas I had last month! I went out to a luncheon party--May Stephens--youknow her? Well, just before luncheon I was astonished to see cocktailsappear. I didn't think May had any stock, but there she was just thesame, jiggling the shaker up and down. Well, at the first sip I thoughtsomething was funny, but there was nothing to do about it; and then Maygave me a dividend, and although it nearly killed me, I managed to getit down, and then when we were all through she asked us how we liked it.Well, I told her I thought it was a little funny, and then sheannounced what I knew all along; that she had made it herself. 'I madeit out of spirits of nitre,' she said. 'Did you boil off the ether?'someone asked, and she said she hadn't! Well, we hadn't got hardlystarted at lunch when one of the girls passed right straight out andthen we all began feeling trembly and queer, and then the next thing Iknew I was at home in bed, and I was
n't up and about for a week. Wasn'tthat awful?"

  Tom's enthusiasm was ebbing fast. What a prodigious bore this race wasgoing to be! The wind was blowing up his legs, and his light springovercoat was far from ample. The seats were too close together and wereof a granite hardness; but he and Lily were wedged into the back andcould not escape without treading upon the toes of half of Woodbridge'snotables. So he sat still and tried to smile brightly at the conclusionof her story.

  "Do you know?" Lily continued, "I think you have a lovely smile."

  "Goody," replied Tom, and smiled again, this time rather archly.

  Lily was examining him between half closed lids. "And I think you havenice eyes, too--particularly the lashes. They are so long and silky."

  "Well, it's a great secret, of course," replied Tom, "and you mustn'ttell even your mother"--Lily giggled--"but I think you have theprettiest way with you I have ever seen."

  "Oh, dear me, you are funny. Now you must keep me warm."

  The car, it has been pointed out, was full of Woodbridge notables, andany warming of the young lady would not have been looked upon withfavour. Nor would Tom have cared to warm her had they been quite aloneat the North Pole. What an ordeal this was getting to be, and how luckywas Nancy, comfortably seated before the fire! How good would thatparticular fire be, and what a soft and fragrant place to ask a certainquestion! What a contrast Nancy made to this miserable girl beside him!Nancy at the time happened to be repairing certain ravages that the teahad made upon her nephew's best blue suit, but the scheme of Tom'sthoughts was not spoiled.

  "Bad man, you're not showing me any kind of a time."

  Tom was exasperated. A group in front of them had built a fire. "Howwould you like to go down there?" he asked. "Can you climb down over theside here?"

  "'Course I can."

  Tom climbed over the railing, dropped to the ground, and, turning hisankle, cried "Ouch!" loudly enough to waken the young Hartley man whosehead was lolling over the adjacent railing. The youth looked up andbeheld the lovely Lily poised, apparently preparing to fly into hisarms. He reared himself up. "Come, lovely girl," he cried, "I love you."And then as she swooped by, he made a grab at her and tore her dress.

  "You bad boy," she cried, with little discretion, "you tore my dress."

  "You bad boy," repeated the young Hartley man, "yuhtoradress,yuhtoradress."

  Tom had managed to hurry her away, although his ankle hurt himconsiderably, but not until all the notables had seen the performance.What a mortifying affair. No doubt many supposed that he was the one whohad torn the dress.

  Fortunately, Lily met a friend at the fire, and Tom was free for thetime being. Would the wind never die down? The flag on the coach'slaunch was not quite so active. There was a rumour that they would startat six-thirty. Only half an hour more. Well, he could stand that. Lilyseemed to be having a time with her new young man, and he limped over toa neighbouring fire where there were fewer Lilies and more heat. Therehe met a classmate of whom he was particularly fond; and before he knewit the starter's launch had put out into the river, and the partiesaround the fires were scampering back aboard the train. Withconsiderable difficulty he followed Lily up over the side, for his footwas now swollen and painful. Finally, however, they were seated again,buoyed up with the thought of the race's being at last under way--whenthe starter's boat retired from the scene, and word arrived that therace would not be rowed until seven.

  Tom could not cover his disappointment.

  "I don't think you are very polite!" said Lily.

  "Sorry," replied Tom, his ankle throbbing.

  "In fact I think you're horrid."

  "Good!" said Tom. Lily looked her rage and half turned her back on him.Well, that was something to be thankful for, at any rate.

  They sat there in ever-increasing gloom. Some of the Lilies gamboledback to shiver over the fires, but even they were beginning to droop.Tom's Lily would have joined them--her new friend was not a wetsmack--but Tom, with his throbbing ankle, did not offer to go, and shewas too proud to suggest it. So they sat and waited.

  The race was eventually rowed. At the starter's gun the train gaveanother convulsive jerk, which sent Tom's injured foot flying againstthe side of the car, and the crowd fanned into life its jadedenthusiasm. Out in the gathering dusk the two crews inched their wayalong. It was not quite clear which was which, the blades both showingblack, and though Lily was certain she had located Platt and cheeredlustily for his boat, subsequent evidence indicated that he was in theother. The two cheering sections woke to frenzy, and the notables' carwas swept with confusion. Lily was beside herself and kept jumping toher feet with an appealing cry of "Oh Platt!" Tom looked over at theHartley car at one point and saw that his friend had apparently hadfresh access to his source of refreshment, for he was now blissfullyasleep, cheek on the railing.

  At the two-mile stake--with a final mile to go--the boats were even,but both sides were jubilant, for from each section it clearly showedthat the home crew was ahead. Then the train shot behind a heavilytimbered point, and when the view of the river was again free, theWoodbridge shell was half a length behind and obviously beaten. A pangof disappointment shot through Tom. Oh, well, it was a fitting climax tothe day. There they were, slipping back and back. They were splashingbadly, and one of the Woodbridge men was obviously not pulling hisweight. Then the Hartley boat flashed over the finish amid the tootingof countless automobiles along the banks, a winner by a length and aquarter.

  The Hartley people had given way to a transport of joy, while theircoxswain crawled along his shell throwing water over the chests andfaces of his men. The two boats floated idly about, their crews bowedforward, gasping in agony for strength. To the men in the Hartley boatcame the faint sound of their grateful supporters. They had won--andwhat was an enlarged heart or, possibly, a damaged kidney, to suchglory? The half hysterical screams of their Lilies were sweetcompensation. As for the Woodbridge crew, well, they would have toswallow their dose as best they could--and wait for next year.

  The young Hartley man next to Tom woke up. "'S the race over?" he asked.

  "Yes, it's over," shouted Tom, for no one else heard him.

  "Thank God," he shouted hoarsely, and went back to sleep--a sentimentwhich cheered Tom so much that Lily, on the homeward trip, decided hewasn't quite such a dumb-bunny, after all.