Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Stop that!” Irving’s voice was shrill with anger. Allison became stationary once more, and Westby displayed an innocent, surprised face at the loft opening. “If there is any more nonsense in letting Allison down, I shall really have to report you.” Irving’s voice rose tremulously to a high key; he was trying hard to control it.
Westby had completed his geometrical figures and was now engaged in labeling them with letters. But instead of employing the usual geometrical symbols A, B, C, and so on, he was skipping about through the alphabet, and Irving immediately perceived that he was not choosing letters at random.
“I’ll tell him that I understand we have a very superior team,” said Irving. “I fancy he knows that it’s as much as I can do to tell the difference between a quarterback and a goal post.” “You will admit, then, that there was some reason for my not believing you had a football brother, won’t you, Mr. Upton?” Westby tried thus to beat a not wholly inglorious retreat.
“Time is up,” said Irving, closing his watch. “But what is time when justice trembles in the balance?” argued Westby. “When the innocent is in danger of being punished for the guilty, when—” “Westby, please climb that ladder at once.” “So young and so inexorable!” murmured Westby, setting his foot upon the ladder. Irving’s face was red; the tittering of the audience was making him angry.
Price shook his head and kept on; Westby trotted beside him, saying anxiously, “There’s no use in your wearing yourself all out.” But Price continued at his determined, pounding trot. “He’s a plucky kid,” said Barclay. “Rather nice of Westby to take such an interest,” said Irving. Barclay nodded.
“The penalty’s a yard,” affirmed Irving. Westby shut his lips tight and looked angrily contemptuous. Irving measured the distance. “There,” he said, “you will start there.” Westby took the place behind the others without a word. “Ready now! On your marks!” The pistol cracked, and this time they all got away safely, and Irving raced after them over the grass.
“I think Lou did well to hang on the ball,” responded his friend. Irving heard; he went about greedily drinking in comments which that tackle had evoked. He found himself standing behind Westby and the other substitutes, who, wrapped in blankets, trailed up and down the field keeping pace with the progress of their team.
Barclay shouted with laughter. “You sat on Westby—and you’re sorry for it! What’s happened to you, anyway? Tell me about it.” Irving narrated the circumstances. “And I want to be friendly with him,” he concluded. “Don’t you think I might explain that it was a blunder on my part—and that I’m sorry I blundered?” “I wouldn’t,” said Barclay. “He’s beginning to respect you now.
“So good that I wish I could furnish inspiration for another,” said Irving. Westby joined in the laugh and looked pleased. “Good-night, everybody,” said Collingwood; he walked away to his room. The others followed, all except Westby, to whom Irving said,— “Will you wait a moment? I should like to have a little talk with you.” He led the boy into his room and pushed forward his armchair.
At the next table Allison and Smythe and Scarborough were all looking over at him and smiling; and at the table beyond that Collingwood and Morrill and Dennison were craning their necks and exhibiting their joy. Westby, the humorist, had suddenly become the butt, a position which he had rarely occupied before. He was quite subdued through that meal.
Word Of The Day