Barry Locke, half-back
they found he wasn’t――well, one of them, you know, and dropped him.”
“I guess he wasn’t one of them,” assented Betty, “because he’s so much
of a――a gentleman. Of course the others had lots of money, too, but
they――oh, I don’t know――they weren’t a bit like Peaches.”
“What I meant was that the others probably dropped Peaches because he
wasn’t rich enough for them. That is, his folks weren’t. I guess there
are quite a few snobs here.”
“But, gracious!” said Betty; “they weren’t any of them as wealthy as
Peaches! Why, they couldn’t be! At least, it doesn’t seem as if they
could.”
Barry stared.
“I don’t get you. Are you trying to tell me that――that Peaches’ folks
are well off? wealthy?”
“Well, gracious! aren’t they? I don’t know very much about it myself,
Barry, but Father said once that he guessed Harrington Jones was one of
the four or five richest men in the country. Anyhow, he must be richer
than――”
“Harrington Jones!” exclaimed Barry. “Do you mean that Peaches
is――is――Land of Liberty! I thought he was poor! Are you _sure_?”
“Of course I am!” laughed Betty. “Why, Mr. Jones was up here last
spring! He came for the Hoskins game. He sat right here on this porch
and talked to Mother and me and was perfectly darling. Peaches looks a
lot like him, too, and says things just the funny way his father does.
Why, the idea of thinking him poor! How ever did you get such a funny
notion, Barry?”
“Why――why, I don’t know,” murmured Barry. “He never _said_ anything.
And his room――I mean it doesn’t look like a rich fellow’s; now, does
it? Gee! and I was telling him one day how wealthy Clyde’s father is!
He must think I’m a――a dumb-bell!”
“He never does talk about money, or about his father, either,” said
Betty; “and his room isn’t fixed up much. But haven’t you ever noticed
what nice things he has, Barry? His brushes and toilet things are
lovely. And he has nice clothes, too. Even,” she added with a laugh,
“if he does go around wearing his oldest ones most of the time!”
“That’s so,” acknowledged Barry; “he has got some nice things upstairs.
I noticed his bureau one day, but I didn’t think about his having
silver brushes and photograph frames. Yes, and he has about two dozen
pairs of shoes, too, and I saw them and thought they were old ones and
joked him about it! Gee, Betty, he must be indecently rich!”
“I guess so, but I don’t care if he is; he’s awfully nice. We thought
of course he would go into one of the dormitories last year, but he
didn’t, and he didn’t this year, either; and it was just because he
knew Mother might have trouble renting his room again. I call that
awfully――thoughtful.”
Barry nodded.
“He said something about that. Said the faculty made it sort of hard
for folks who rented to students and he was afraid Mrs. Lyle wouldn’t
fill the room if he got out. Just the same, Betty, I think he likes it
here better than a dormitory.”
“Yes, I think so, too, and that’s just another nice thing about him,”
replied Betty, warmly. “Lots of boys in his circumstances, with all the
money they want, wouldn’t be satisfied unless they had the best room
in Meddill.” There was a pause, and then she asked: “Did he tell you
any more, Barry? I mean about――about my brother Davy?”
“Yes, he did,” Barry confessed a bit awkwardly. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“No, not a bit, Barry. You see, you’re a good deal like Peaches. I mean
you’re――” Betty hesitated, smiled, and shrugged her slim shoulders
apologetically. “I just mean that I don’t mind your knowing,” she
laughed.
“It was awfully――awfully hard luck,” said Barry. “I guess Mr. Benjy
feels pretty badly about it.”
“He misses Davy,” said Betty. “We all do. But you mustn’t think Father
feels badly, Barry, because, you see, Davy didn’t really do what they
said he did.” She looked down at Barry very straightly, a little
sternly.
“So Peaches said,” he answered. “And with both you and Peaches telling
me the same thing I’m bound to believe it.” He smiled, and Betty’s
severity relaxed.
“Peaches was a dear when it happened,” she said. “He tried very hard to
persuade Davy to stay here and prove his innocence, but Davy wouldn’t.
He was hurt, and a little bit frightened, too, I think, and he wanted
to get away from the talk. He couldn’t have, though, if Peaches hadn’t
helped him. We didn’t have any money in the house that night, and
Peaches went over to the school and got some from Mr. Puffer, the
treasurer, and――well, I don’t know the rest of it, because I never
asked.”
“He didn’t tell me that part of it,” muttered Barry. “Do you hear from
him, Betty? Davy I mean.”
“Oh, yes, he writes pretty regularly. He’s had an awfully hard time,
poor boy. He’s had four or five positions, but he can’t seem to hold
them. They haven’t been the right kind for him, because he doesn’t
really know much except office work, and you can’t get that very
easily without references, and Davy hasn’t any. He sends his letters
to Peaches. We were afraid the police might watch the mail, you see.
Still, they never tried to find him after he left here, so far as we
know, and maybe they’ll let it drop after a while.”
“It wouldn’t be safe for him to come home yet, then?”
Betty shook her head, yet hesitantly, and before she could reply Mrs.
Lyle returned from her visit along the street. After a few minutes
Barry went up to his room and seated himself at the walnut desk,
which, under Betty’s care, was regaining some of its youthful luster.
He didn’t feel in the mood for letter-writing, but this was the day for
it, and after several false starts he managed to finish two pages.
“I’ve about decided to give up football for this year,” he was writing,
when Peaches’ footsteps sounded on the stairs and then approached along
the hall. Barry had left his door open and Peaches entered.
“‘I am studying very hard,’” he dictated as he sank into a chair, “‘and
winning much praise from my dear teachers.’”
Barry laid down his pen and viewed him rather moodily.
“I guess it would be a good thing if I could say that,” he muttered.
“I’m studying hard, all right, but I haven’t heard much praise from my
dear teachers!” Then recollection of Betty’s astounding revelation came
to him and he looked Peaches over from head to toe, with new interest.
Peaches frowned and put a hand to his tie.
“What is it?” he asked anxiously. “Let’s know the worst. If it’s the
tie I’ll change it.”
“You’re Harrington Jones’s son, aren’t you?” said Barry.
Peaches nodded cautiously.
“What are you trying to do? Serve a summons on me?”
“Betty just told me,” answered Barry, darkly.
“Told you what?”
“That you were――are.”
“That I were what? I’m sorry, Barry, but I’m like this on Sundays,
after a hearty dinner: I’m not quick, you know. I have to have the
simplest things explained to me. You’d be surprised!”
“I was,” said Barry. “I thought you were――well, sort of poor. Now I
find you’ve got slathers of coin.”
“Not me,” said Peaches. “Dad has quite a roll, I believe, but I worry
along on a mere pittance. Still, anything up to three or four dollars――”
“I’m not trying to borrow money, you chump!” retorted Barry.
Peaches chuckled.
“Then why all the prologue? You’re wasting a mighty good introduction.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about your folks?” demanded Barry, sternly. “I
thought you were poor. I was talking about rich fellows a while back,
and saying perfectly insulting things, for all I remember, and you
just let me go on and never said a word about being one of them!”
Peaches shrugged.
“Why should I? If you had asked me I’d have confessed the dreadful
truth, but you didn’t. We both agreed that a fellow had no right to
take credit for his parents, didn’t we?”
“Well, but――oh, all right! Just the same, I felt a perfect ass when
Betty spoke about your folks being wealthy. I thought she was crazy.”
“How come I was the subject of discourse?”
“I forget. Oh! I asked where you were and――and we just got talking
about you. Betty was trying to tell me what a wonder you were and, of
course, I couldn’t see it.”
“Humph!” grunted Peaches. “I’d be ashamed to own up to such lack of
discernment. I don’t know where Betty got her idea, but I’m sure it’s
right.”
“Fishing!” laughed Barry. “Well, I’m not going to tell you. She did
say, though, you had been nice about that brother of hers. She told me
all about how you helped him get away too. Gee! if I wanted to go to
the police and tell what I know about you――”
“She hasn’t seen him?” asked Peaches, eagerly.
“Seen him?”
“Well, I thought maybe―― The fact is, he hasn’t written for nearly two
weeks, and I didn’t know but that he had shown up here. You know he
addresses his letters to me and I hand them over to his folks. He’s
crazy to come back here yet, though, I guess.”
“I don’t believe he has,” said Barry. “She didn’t say anything about
that, anyway. Say, where have you been since dinner? I wanted to see
you about something.”
“Oh, I stopped in to see Billy Bassett. What’s on your mind?”
“Well,” began Barry, slowly. Then he stopped and, after a moment, began
again: “I sort of wanted your advice, Peaches.”
Peaches nodded.
“I’m flattered, Barry. About which?”
“Football.”
Peaches looked dubious.
“Well, of course, Barry, football isn’t exactly a subject――”
“About resigning from the team, I mean. Do you think the Major
would――would be willing?”
CHAPTER XIV
BARRY SEEKS ADVICE
After a moment’s silence Peaches asked soberly: “What’s happened?”
Barry looked out of the window.
“I just decided I’d better quit,” he replied, elaborately casual. “It’s
pretty strenuous, for one thing; and then I’m not doing awfully well
with Latin and――well, I just thought it would be the wisest thing,
Peaches.”
“I see. And you want to know if Loring will let you do it, eh? Well, I
can tell you that he won’t. Not for any reason you’ve told me, Barry.”
Their eyes met. Barry’s fell and he shuffled his feet.
“I don’t see how he can make me play if I don’t want to,” he muttered.
“If you don’t want to play,” replied the other, dryly, “I don’t think
he will try to make you.”
“Well, then――”
“But the fact that Allen doesn’t want you to wouldn’t matter so much to
him.”
“Allen?” Barry tried to sound puzzled. “I didn’t say anything about
Clyde,” he protested.
“You don’t have to, young Ananias. I happen to have been in Billy
Bassett’s window when you came out of Dawson about an hour ago. So
you’d better come clean and tell me just what it’s all about.”
Barry considered a moment. Then he grinned sheepishly.
“Think you’re a regular Sherlock Holmes, don’t you?” he asked.
“Never mind about that,” returned the other, soberly. “Just tell me one
thing, Barry. Does Clyde know where you hid the body?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know well enough what I mean,” answered Peaches, viewing the
other severely. “He’s got something on you. I don’t have to be a
detec-a-tive to know that. You’re afraid to turn around without being
sure beforehand that Allen approves of it. I’m no more curious than the
next guy, but――gosh!――this has got my goat! I’ve been wanting for weeks
to ask you, only I didn’t have the nerve. Now you’ve got to come across
with the whole dastardly tale. What claim has Allen got on you?”
“I don’t suppose,” answered Barry, slowly, “you’d call it a claim
exactly. It’s only that――well, you see, Peaches, I’m under a big
obligation to him, and that’s why I kinda feel that it’s up to me
to――to oblige him when I can.”
“What sort of an obligation?” demanded Peaches.
“Well, he――he saved my life.”
“Saved your life!” Peaches whistled his surprise. “_Allen_ did? What do
you know about that? How did he do it, for Pete’s sake?”