The Land of Joy. Ralph Henry Barbour

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СКАЧАТЬ I have always taken great interest in the manly art. Perhaps I can hold the watch for you?”

      The slim youth’s eyes sparkled dangerously and the crimson disks spread.

      “Perhaps you would care to take the place of this—ah—gentleman, sir?” he asked with elaborate courtesy. John applauded silently. But,

      “No,” he said, with a regretful shake of his head, “unfortunately I can’t accept your kind invitation. Some other time, perhaps.”

      “But if I insist that you either do so or leave my room?” continued the other, his anger getting the better of his polite tones. John shrugged his shoulders. The expressman was getting into his coat, growling loudly.

      “I shall get out,” John replied frankly, smiling into the boy’s angry face. “But before that,” he went on, “let us have a few minutes of conversation. Afterward, if you still persist, I will leave without being dropped from the window.” The other, suddenly realizing that John was at least fifty pounds heavier and very much stronger, scented sarcasm and grew more incensed.

      “I can’t imagine what you may have to say, sir, but I—” he pronounced it Ah—“assure you that I have no desire to hear a word of it. You will oblige me by quitting my room.”

      “Say,” interrupted the expressman, “do I get paid for that trunk or don’t I?”

      “Yes, you do,” answered his late adversary. “You get fifty cents for bringing it out from Boston, but you don’t get anything for toting it upstairs.”

      “All right, give me the fifty. Gee, I’ve wasted a quarter of an hour here now; I could have made another fifty in that time.”

      “You acknowledge, then, do you, that you had no right to ask an extra fee for bringing it upstairs?”

      “Aw, what yer givin’ us? I ain’t askin’ for it, am I?” He turned to John and with difficulty winked his eye slyly. “I guess I got a quarter’s worth, eh?”

      “You look as though you had,” replied John gravely.

      “You can go now,” said the host.

      “Aw, is that so?” growled the expressman.

      “And here’s your money.” He handed the other a crisp dollar bill.

      “What’s to keep me from pocketin’ the whole thing?” asked the expressman.

      “Nothing; that’s what you’re to do. I’m giving you fifty cents for the trunk and fifty cents for a tip.” The expressman opened his eyes until they threatened to fall from his head.

      “Well, I’ll be darned!” he gasped. “Say, why couldn’t you give me the quarter I asked for in the first place?”

      “Because I didn’t please to,” was the calm response. “Your demand was unjust.”

      “Oh, you’re a wonder!” sighed the other hopelessly. “But, say, any time you want to go on with this, just let me know. You got the best of it to-day, but then you haven’t been wrestling with trunks since seven o’clock. Next time it might be different, eh?”

      There was no answer and the expressman pocketed his money, winked good-naturedly at John and went out.

      “Good-by, sonny,” he called from the hall. John smiled and Phillip Ryerson, scowling haughtily at him from the centre of the room, saw it and clenched his hands.

      “Now, sir, if you’ll be so kind as to follow!” he said in a high, arrogant voice. John’s temper suddenly gave way and he arose from the trunk. He moved slowly across the apartment until he was facing his host.

      “Look here, you are Ryerson, aren’t you—Phillip Ryerson, of Something-or-other Court House, What-you-call-it County, State of Virginia?”

      “Yes.” Phillip’s curiosity for a moment got the best of his wrath. “How do you know so much about me?” he asked suspiciously.

      “Oh, what does it matter?” answered John wearily. “But since you are Ryerson, allow me to tell you that you’re a very fresh little boy and ought to have a thundering good spanking. Good-afternoon.”

      Phillip watched him in silence until he had reached the door; he was very angry, deeply insulted, but he was also rather uneasy. His visitor, now that he observed him more closely, did not look quite like an impertinent proctor. He wondered if he had not been a bit ill-mannered and hasty. After all, if he wanted people to keep out of his room he should have locked the door. He took a step forward, his lips shaping a hurried apology. But the visitor passed into the hall, and after a moment of hesitation Phillip shrugged his shoulders.

      “Let him go, hang him!” he muttered.

      John found David at the dinner table. The former’s face still expressed a measure of exasperation as he sank into a chair at his friend’s side. David grinned.

      “How did you find the boy, Johnnie?” he asked.

      John flirted his napkin open and eyed his thick soup with disfavour before he answered.

      “Well, Davy,” he said finally, “I think he’ll do. I found him beating an expressman to jelly because the latter wanted to overcharge him. He seems a peculiarly gentle, amiable youth, and I think he will get on very nicely without our tender care, Davy.”

      “Our care!”

      “I should have said mine. And I believe I neglected to add that later on he ordered me out of his room and that I went.”

      David chuckled loudly.

      “The sweet child!” he exclaimed. “Johnnie, I can see that you are destined to spend a busy, useful and not uninteresting year.”

      “Not I,” answered John. “I shan’t go near the little fool again. And Corliss can look somewhere else for a nurse for the precious kid.”

      But David shook his head solemnly.

      “That won’t do, Johnnie. You can’t shift responsibilities like that; you’ve got a duty to perform, my boy, and I shall see that you attend to it. You must make allowances for the poor child’s fiery Southern nature, and——”

      “Fiery Southern fiddlesticks! Eat your dinner, man; we’re going in to the theatre.”

      And they went. And David slept peacefully through three acts of a Pinero comedy and enjoyed it hugely.

      CHAPTER III

       Table of Contents

      The bell on Harvard Hall clanged imperatively and a new college year began. The leaves in the Yard rustled tremulously under the touch of a cool breeze out of the east, and here and there one fluttered downward, dropping from branch to branch lightly, lingeringly, as though loath to own its life at an end. Summer, which had loitered overlate in New England, had stolen southward in the night and to-day СКАЧАТЬ