Chapter III: Jerry Upsets His Tea

“I reckon you’re wishin’ I was in Halifax,” said Jerry Benson.

Tom had had his bath, had unpacked his bag and now, wrapped in an old gray bath robe, was stretched on the window seat. Jerry, who had divested himself of coat and waistcoat, collar and tie and shoes, sat in a morris chair and looked anxiously across. Outside, noise and bustle told of new arrivals, and from within the House the tramping of feet in the corridors, the opening of doors and the sounds of talk and laughter suggested that most of Baldwin’s thirty-five rooms had recovered their occupants. The clock on Founders’ Hall pointed its tarnished gilt hands to twenty-two minutes past four and the shadows were long across the campus. Beyond the river, a blue-gray haze added mystery to the wooded distance and, straight away, the spires and towers of Annapolis pointed against a sunset sky.

Tom made no answer for a moment. Then he swung his slippered feet to the floor, sat up and faced Jerry soberly. “No,” he answered, “I don’t, Jerry. You and I don’t know each other very well, and when a couple of fellows get put together in a room like this――strangers, I mean――it’s a good deal of a gamble. But if they’re both pretty decent they get on all right. It’s a case of give and take, though. You’ll have to put up with my queer ways and I’ll have to put up with yours; for the other fellow’s ways always are queer until you get used to ’em! I guess we’ll get along without much spatting, because I’m not what you’d call quarrelsome, and I don’t think you are. There’s one subject we’d better come to agreement on right now, though, and that’s the Civil War. I’m a Northerner, Jerry, and you’re a Southerner. My first year here I had fully six scraps about it. Suppose we settle it now.”

“All right,” said Jerry. “What about it?”

“Well, to begin with, each side thought it was dead right. That the way you understand it?”

“Yes.”

“And each side fought hard to win and fought bravely. That so?”

“That’s the way I learned it,” the other agreed.

“And one side made just as many mistakes as the other and played just as fair?”

Jerry nodded again.

“And the North won?”

“Sure did!”

“And it’s all over?”

“Yes, sir, it’s all over. It’s been over two, three years.”

“How long?” ejaculated Tom.

“Two, three years.” Jerry’s eyes twinkled. “Ever since the Big War came along and we got into it. Before that there was a heap of folks up in the hills didn’t know the other war was done!”

“I can believe that,” laughed Tom. “Some of the fellows here didn’t know it any too well when I came. Well, that’s settled. Now, that’s your side of the room, because this has been mine for a year and a half. If you want to put up some pictures over there I’ll move those out of the way. They belong to the fellow who was here before. He got sick just after Thanksgiving and went home, and he isn’t coming back.”

Jerry looked and shook his head. “I didn’t bring any pictures,” he said. “Those are real pretty, ain’t they?”

“I suppose your trunk’s coming up?” asked Tom.

“I didn’t bring any trunk,” answered the other. “I’ve got ’most everything I own in my bag. Pap said I could buy things here better’n I could there. Reckon I’ll have to pay a sight more for them, though.”

“Have you got another suit in there?” Tom nodded at the yellow valise.

“Yes, but it’s my old one.”

“Let’s have a look at it.”

Jerry pulled it forth and presented it for inspection. Tom sighed with relief. Whatever its shortcomings might be, at least it was a civilized color. He nodded approval.

“Blue serge is always good, Jerry. If I was you I’d put it on instead of the one you’re wearing.”

Jerry viewed it dubiously. “It’s sort of worn out,” he hazarded.

“Never mind. Jerry, I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but that suit you’ve got on now won’t do here.”

“Won’t it?” Jerry looked surprised. “Well, it ain’t a very good fit, but I thought likely I could get a tailor to shorten the legs and sleeves a couple of inches.” He observed Tom questioningly.

Tom shook his head firmly. “I’m sorry, Jerry, but it isn’t only the fit. The color doesn’t suit you. You’re sort of light, you know, and you need darker things. Suppose you put that suit back in the bag to wear when you get home again and get another one in Baltimore in a day or two. You could run up there Saturday.”

“All right, if you say so.” Jerry looked thoughtful but docile. “How much’ll a suit cost me, do you reckon?”

“I guess you’d ought to get a fairly decent one for thirty dollars.”

“Golly! That’s a heap of money, ain’t it? Say, this one only cost me eighteen!”

Tom felt like saying that it looked it, but he didn’t. Instead: “It pays to spend a little more, Jerry, and get a good one. It’ll last longer and you’ll get more satisfaction out of it.” He mentally reviewed his possible engagements. “If you like, I’ll go with you and help you pick one out.”

“Will you? Well, now, I’d be powerful glad to have you, Tom. I reckon those fellers in the city would skin the hide offen me!”

“And you’d better get a couple of shirts and some ties and a few things,” continued Tom offhandedly. “That is, if you can afford them.”

“Reckon I can. I’ve got ’most four hundred dollars saved up. Pap paid me three dollars a week in the store, though he didn’t have any right to, because he’s fed me and clothed me ever since I was two, three years old. And he’s payin’ for my schoolin’, too. But I’m agoin’ to make it up to him when I get to earnin’ money, Tom. I’ve got fifty dollars on me right now. Pap said I’d better go heeled because there wasn’t any tellin’ what’d happen.” Jerry reached for the waistcoat of the obnoxious suit and unpinned three bills from an inside pocket. “Reckon that’ll buy everything, don’t you?”

“That’s plenty,” agreed Tom. “Now suppose you change your clothes and we’ll go out and look around.”

Jerry was still far from resembling Beau Brummel when the change was made, but the old blue serge suit, never very good even when new, was an improvement on the other. Unfortunately, it was almost as much too small as the other was too large, and Jerry’s bony wrists protruded from the sleeves shamelessly, while the end of the trousers left exposed two expanses of gray woolen socks. Tom made a mental note to the effect that if Jerry’s money lasted long enough socks and shoes should be included in Saturday’s purchases.

Tom didn’t spend an altogether happy hour between five and six that Thursday afternoon. Jerry, putting it as mildly as possible, attracted a good deal of attention, and very little of it was flattering. Tom had provided his charge with one of his own collars and an inoffensive blue four-in-hand tie, but Jerry’s hat had gone unnoticed until they were in the corridor, and then Tom hadn’t the heart to drag the other back to the room and substitute one of his old caps for the snuff-colored felt. All that saved Jerry from open ridicule, possibly insult, at the hands of some of the younger and thoughtless fellows was the fact that Tom was beside him. Tom was well-known, well-liked and well-respected, and, to some extent, feared. Consequently most of the criticisms aimed at the newcomer were delivered in carefully modulated tones, and much of the laughter was of the silent sort.

Tom couldn’t determine whether Jerry was as unconscious of the impression he was creating as he appeared. More than once, passing some group of fellows, Tom was uncomfortably aware of the surprise, instantly changing to ill-concealed merriment, that greeted them. It didn’t seem quite possible that Jerry should fail to notice it, but nothing in his manner or expression showed that he did. Tom went through with his task conscientiously, showing the new boy over the grounds and through the Hall, pausing in front of each of the Houses to explain them, as, before McCrea: “Here’s where most of the first class fellows live, Jerry. It’s the smallest of the Houses. Only fifteen rooms. That’s Mr. Cranz’s study on the left there. Mr. Logan’s is on the other side of the entrance.”

“Teachers?” asked Jerry.

“Yes, Cranz is modern languages and Logan mathematics. We call ’em ‘faculties’ here instead of teachers.”

Later, in front of Follen: “Fourth class quarters. Mrs. Barry, the matron, and Mr. Ledyard, the secretary, are in charge here. Follen is the largest of the lot and has forty rooms.”

From the steps five irrepressible youths were staring wide-eyed at the strange boy in the queer hat, but Tom paid them no heed beyond a nod to those he knew. As the pair turned away giggles followed them and one shrill voice called: “Reckon there’s been a right smart o’ rain daown in the country!” This reference to Jerry’s “high-water” trousers evidently didn’t permeate to Jerry’s understanding, for he continued uninterruptedly the question he was asking.

It was black dark when they returned to Number 7 Baldwin and found Joe Kirkham lolling on the window seat there. “Hello,” he greeted, sending a quick side glance of curiosity at Jerry. “Where the dickens were you? I’ve been waiting half an hour here. Thought you said you’d be in.”

“Sorry, Joke. I forgot, and was showing Jerry around. Jerry, meet Joe Kirkham. Joe, this is Jerry Benson.”

“Right glad to know you,” responded Jerry, crushing Joe’s fingers in his big hand. “Reckon I seen――saw you at the station.”

“Very glad to know you, Benson. Yes, I was there when you came in. Tom been treating you right? Hasn’t borrowed any money from you or made you sign any papers? You’ll have to watch him, Benson!”

“Reckon I’d sign anything he told me to,” answered Jerry, with a twinkle of his blue eyes.

“Yes, I dare say,” complained Joe, with assumed bitterness. “He can get away with anything. Folks think everything Tom does is all right. Mighty good thing for him they don’t all know him the way I do!”

“That so?” Jerry brushed the nap of his felt hat very carefully against a sleeve and laid it on his chiffonier. “Reckon it’s safe for me to bunk in with him?”

“Well, I’d sleep with my watch and money under my pillow,” replied Joe. “How do you like the school, Benson?”

“I like it right well.” He fixed a serious gaze on Joe as he went on. “Reckon I’ll have to ask you to call me Jerry. I ain’t ever been called anything but that, you see.”

Joe’s half-bantering expression faded and he returned Jerry’s look straightly and gravely. “All right, Jerry,” he answered. “Glad to. And my name’s Joe; only the fellows call me Joke. Coming to supper, you two?”

The students ate in a big and rather bare room on the first floor of Founders’ Hall known as Commons. Sixteen long tables, accommodating from twelve to fourteen, pretty well filled the floor there and the colored waiters often had difficulty in navigating the narrow spaces, a fact that made seats on the wider center aisle much sought. Both Tom and Joe were fortunate possessors of such seats, but Tom’s attempt to get Jerry a place at their table failed, and the former watched the new boy’s relegation to a distant board with misgivings. “They’ll rag the life out of him,” he confided to Joe. “And I’ll bet he’s half-starved, for he told me he only had a sandwich and a cup of coffee at noon.”

“Don’t you worry too much about that chap,” said Joe. “I may be all wrong, but it’s my opinion that your friend Jerry is mighty well able to look after himself. That fellow is no one’s fool, Tom, and I’ll wager that he can give as good as he gets.”

“Maybe,” said Tom, looking across the hall after Jerry, “but they’ve put him at Four, with Wayne Sortwell and Mansfield and that bunch. If Wayne gets started on him he’ll make it mighty uncomfortable for him.”

“Forget it, son, and pass the biscuits. Gee, I wonder if they made these before vacation! Say, Wayne came on the train with you from Baltimore, didn’t he? Did he speak to you?”

“No, nor I to him,” answered Tom dryly.

Joe laughed. “Gee, you two are certainly funny! You don’t either of you know what you’re mad about. Hello, Norry! Didn’t see you. What have you been doing to get so thin?”

Pete Norris, North Bank School’s prize fat boy, across the table contributed a grin as his share of the resultant merriment, and Joe returned to the previous subject. “Honest, Tom, Wayne isn’t such a bad sort. I don’t know him very well, but a lot of the fellows like him pretty well. And you’ve got to hand it to him for playing a good game of ball.”

“I haven’t anything against him――especially,” replied Tom. “I just don’t like him. And he just doesn’t like me. We’re satisfied, Joke, so you might as well be! Besides, whether he plays baseball well hasn’t got much to do with it, has it?”

“N-no, only as you’re both on the Nine it would make it easier and more――more pleasant if you got on together a little better. Well, it’s none of my business. Pass the biscuits, please.”

After supper they parted in the corridor, Joe to seek a missing roommate who, up to the time of going to Commons, had failed to show up. Tom found Jerry awaiting him, a contented, undisturbed Jerry who sported a toothpick very frankly. Tom drew him forth into the night, away from the amused inspection of the fellows coming out of Commons. He wanted to know whether Wayne Sortwell and the others at Number Four table had tried to haze Jerry, but somehow he didn’t like to ask. What he did ask finally was: “Everything all right?”

“Fine,” replied the other boy with gusto. “The food’s right good. I was so hungry I mighty nigh foundered myself.” Jerry laughed softly.

“What?” asked Tom.

“Feller next to me played a joke on me. Put a lot of salt in my tea when he reckoned I wasn’t lookin’.”

“Oh! Well, they’ll do that sort of thing at first to a new boy. Best way is not to mind them, Jerry.”

“I didn’t. ’Fore I could drink it I hit it with my arm and it spilled all over his lap, and I had to have a new cup. Reckon I was pretty clumsy.”

Tom broke into a laugh. “I hope to goodness it was Hal Mansfield! What sort of a looking chap was he?”

“Well, he was kind of lean and wore glasses. Seemed like a right pleasant feller.”

“That wasn’t Mansfield,” said Tom, disappointedly. “But, whoever he was, it served him right. By the way, Jerry, I suppose you’ve noticed that folks around here have different ways from the folks where you live. I mean――well, now, for instance, up here they don’t use toothpicks in public.”

“That so? ’Tain’t manners, you mean? All right.” Jerry threw his toothpick away. “I’m obliged to you, Tom,” he continued. “I’ll be glad if you’ll tell me anything like that that ain’t right, because I know I’m right ignorant of such things.”

“You’re going to catch on mighty quick, Jerry. If I do call you down for little things like using a toothpick just you take it in good part.”

“Reckon I’d be a plumb fool if I didn’t,” said Jerry. “Say, the fellers at supper were talkin’ something about a party that the Principal was givin’ this evening. Was you plannin’ to go?”

Tom hadn’t been. Having sponsored Jerry so far, he felt that he was entitled to a recess until the morrow. But Jerry’s tone plainly implied that he would like to go, and Tom relented.

“Yes, Doctor Heidler gives a reception to-night. Would you like to go?”

“Well, I reckon so, if I’m dressed fancy enough.”

“Oh, it doesn’t matter what you wear. You’re all right. We’ll go, then.”

The fact that between eight and half past nine most of North Bank’s two hundred odd students crowded into the Principal’s none too commodious parlor and library and dining room in Ellicot House made Tom’s task easier, for Jerry’s eccentricities of attire were not so noticeable in a crowd. Mr. Ledyard was there and for awhile took the new boy in charge and introduced him to the Doctor. The Principal, a tall, very scholarly-looking man of middle age, appeared to take a great interest in Jerry, and Tom noted that they remained in conversation for several minutes. Later, there were sandwiches and hot chocolate, and Tom, at Jerry’s elbow, saw with relief that his charge handled plate and cup with, if not ease and dexterity, at least with none of the awkwardness that had spilled the tea at supper.

On the way back to Baldwin through a mild and starlit night Jerry broke a long silence. “Reckon,” he said, “I’m goin’ to like this place right smart, Tom. Folks are mighty neighborly, ain’t they?”

Tom tried to see his companion’s face, but it was too dark, so he said: “Yes,” after a moment, and wondered in the silence whether Jerry’s blue eyes twinkled.