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Updated: June 20, 2025
“Westby feels that he has had provocation and therefore may be rude.” Irving spoke at last with calmness. “It’s true that I never officiated before at any races. At the same time, I don’t believe I did anything which some experienced officials would not have done.
At that moment Collingwood came up the stairs. “Hello, Lou,” said Westby, with a welcoming wink. “We’re just congratulating Mr. Upton on his brother; did you know that he has a brother playing on the Harvard Freshmen?” “Yes,” said Collingwood. “I’ve just heard it from Mr. Barclay.” The boys stared at Collingwood, then at Irving, whose eyes were twinkling again and whose smile had widened.
And feeling this, he shrank from communicating the news,—though he felt sure that even Westby, who was going to Harvard the next year, might be interested in it; he shrank from anything like boasting. He found an outlet soon; Barclay came to see him that evening. “I looked for you this afternoon, after the giving out of the prizes,” said Barclay. “But I couldn’t find you.”
But some hours later, when Irving came up to the dormitory before supper, he heard laughter in the west wing, where Collingwood and Westby and Scarborough had their rooms. Then he heard Westby’s voice, raised in an effeminate, pleading tone: “Less noise, fellows, less noise—or I shall have to report you—I shall really!” There was more laughter at the mimicry, and Irving heard Collingwood ask,
Once in the middle of it, Irving looked at him and caught his eye, and on a sudden impulse leaned back and laughed. Carroll joined in, Westby blushed once more, the Sixth Formers at the next table looked over and began to laugh; the other boys cast wondering glances. “What’s the joke, Mr. Upton?” asked Blake. “Oh, don’t ask me,” said Irving. “Ask Westby.”
He addressed the remark to the totally unprovided side of his table; he turned his head just in time to catch Westby’s humorous mouth and droll droop of an eyelid. The other boys smiled, and Irving’s cheeks grew more hot. “You’ll excuse me, Mr. Upton, if I don’t wait, won’t you?” said Westby. “Don’t get impatient, fellows.”
He felt that if he could make their acquaintance separately and without witnesses, he could produce a better impression than if he waited and confronted them before a whole table of strange faces. But as it happened, that was just the way that he did meet Westby and Carroll.
I guess Kiddy had been whining to him about how I’d worried him. That’s why the chump had it in for me.” “Chump, Wes! Such a peach of a good looker?” “Oh, shut up. I don’t care if he is good looking; he’s fresher than paint.” “He would think that was a queer criticism for you to make.” Westby stalked on in angry silence. He was more wounded than he could let Carroll know.
Lane, the Fifth Form halfback, tried to go round the end on the next play, but made no gain. Then Westby was driven again at left tackle, but he got only two yards. Collingwood gave the signal for a criss-cross; Lane took the ball, and passed it to Westby, who was already on the run. Westby got clear of the St.
The school turned out to look on and cheer; when Westby left the athletic house, he saw the boys lined up on the farther side of the track. The field was reserved for contestants and officials; already many figures in trailing dressing gowns were wandering over it, and off at one side three or four were having a preliminary practice in putting the shot.
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