Two Boys and a Fortune Part 21

"Proud to know any friend of Harri's, I'm sure," and Mr. Stout gave Rex a hand that was so disagreeably clammy that the younger lad could scarcely resist the impulse to take out his handkerchief and wipe off the touch of it.

From the conversation that ensued he ascertained that Stout came from somewhere up in New York State and that for some reason or other he appeared to be quite a favorite with his cla.s.smates. One or two others were expected in the course of the evening, and the hope that they might go to the theater was now quenched in Rex's breast.

Harrington and Stout talked volubly of things in which he was not the least interested-- other college men. New Haven girls, fraternity affairs, and the like. Rex sat there listening, trying to look as if he were having a good time, but failing signally. However, this made no difference, as neither Harrington nor Stout paid any attention to him.

Presently Stout began to complete his dressing, talking all the while.

Although he was not angry, he seemed to find it necessary to interlard his conversation with some very strong and unpleasant sounding expressions, and once or twice Harrington followed his example.

In fact the latter did not appear to be the same fellow here in New York that he was at home. Once in a while he looked at Rex and smiled as if mutely reminding the latter that he owed the good time he was having to him. But Rex found it harder and harder to smile back, and he welcomed a knock that by and by came at the door as signalizing a.

change of some sort.

CHAPTER XVIII

REX SEES A HORRIBLE SPECTACLE

Three new fellows followed the knock into the room. They were noisily greeted by Stout and Harrington. In the confusion it was some time before Rex was introduced.

Tom Cheever was a tall youth, continually feeling of his upper lip as if to see if his mustache had arrived; Dan Tilford had a narrow face, pallid from much cigarette smoking, and an eye that never seemed fixed on any object he gazed at; Harry Atkins was a handsome fellow of eighteen, who seemed of quieter temperament than the others.

Stout gave an order to the boy who had shown the last callers up, and the lad presently appeared staggering under a big bowl of what Stout declared was the "rummest punch" New York could brew.

"Help yourselves, fellows!" he cried. "Remember that the last night of vacation only comes once a year."

The room was already filled with cigarette smoke. Two or three of these cigarettes had been offered to Rex, but he had declined with a vacillating "Not now, thank you."

When the punch was pa.s.sed around he took the gla.s.s that was handed to him, but only pretended to drink. He did not care for liquor; he knew that it would give him a headache. He was having a terribly stupid time as it was. It was not worth while to aggravate it by the addition of physical suffering.

He was appalled at the swiftness with which the others tossed off the drink. It seemed scarcely five minutes before Stout was calling out:

"Fill 'em up again, men! Here's to the coming year. May none of us be plucked and ponies be plentiful."

He took up gla.s.s after gla.s.s and refilled it. Rex saw what was coming and tried to be prepared for it.

"Why, Pell!" exclaimed the hospitable host," you haven't drunk a drop.

What does this mean?"

"I don't drink, thank you," stammered Rex, conscious that he ought to look the other straight in the eye as he made this response, but dropping his handkerchief so that he might have an excuse to stoop down and pick it up instead.

"Oh, yes you do, when you are among gentlemen like us, Reggie."

Harrington came forward hastily to say this.

The others held their gla.s.ses half way to their lips and watched for the outcome with interest.

If Rex were the hero of this tale it would doubtless be my pleasant duty to record the fact that he lifted the gla.s.s from the table, poured the contents into the bowl, and said that he could not go back on his principles.

But Rex unfortunately is not of the stuff of which heroes are made. He felt that he would rather endure a headache than the jeers of those five fellows.

"Of course," he said feebly, and drank off the gla.s.sful at one draft.

"And now for another," said Stout, promptly filling it up again.

Rex had never signed the pledge, but he knew that his mother did not want him to touch liquor. And it had been no deprivation for him to refrain, as he did not like it. What he had just drunk burnt his throat like fire. It seemed as if he could not possibly swallow any more.

His misery showed itself in his face. Atkins, who was standing just opposite on the other side of the table on which the punch bowl had been placed, saw it.

"I say, Pell," he called out softly, "come here a minute."

He stepped over to the open window, which looked out on an airshaft.

Wondering what he wanted, Rex followed him.

The others were busy with the punch.

"You don't want that, I know," whispered Atkins. "I don't want any more either. Look here."

As he spoke, he dexterously emptied his gla.s.s out of the window. Rex was quick to follow his example.

"Those fellows don't know when they've had enough," he said, "and somebody ought to keep a level head on his shoulders to look out for them."

Rex's heart sank within him. And it was for this that he had spent the money he had been saving for his mother's birthday gift! for this he had deceived this mother! for this told those falsehoods to Roy!

"Are you fellows ready for another round?" called out Stout, looking over at them. "Slip up to the captain's office and get a settler."

His voice already began to sound thick.

"We must go and pretend to join them," Atkins whispered.

So gla.s.ses were filled for the third time, and on this occasion Atkins retired with Rex to the other side of the room, and watching his opportunity, poured his punch into the water pitcher. Rex, in trying to do likewise, let slip the gla.s.s, and it fell with a crash into the basin.

A roar of laughter greeted the incident.

"Good for you, Pell," cried Tom Cheever. "Trying to infuse a little life into the party. That's right, my boy, that's right."

The fellow came over toward Rex, walking a little unsteadily, and with such a leer in his eye that Rex shrank back against the wall.

At that moment Harrington came up and put his arm around Rex's neck.

"I always said that Reggie Pell was a gentleman," he mumbled. "Now you can see it for yourselves."

"And his clothes fit him," added Dan Tilford, as a special mark of approval.

"Oh, they imagine they're having no end of sport," whispered Atkins.

"Look at Harrington. He's half seas over, too."

He was so far over, indeed, that he was very ill for a time. It was a fearful scene.

"Here, Pell," Atkins called to him from the bed where he had gone to look after Cheever. "See what you can do for your friend."

And Rex went over to Harrington and tried to pilot him to a seat. Then he held the other's head and shut his eyes, while he wondered if there was ever such a donkey on the face of the earth as he, Reginald Pell, to do all that he had done for this.