The Half-Back | Page 8

"You must have a good deal saved up by the end of the year." West stared.
"Saved? Why, I'm dead broke this minute. And I owe three bills in town. Don't tell any one, because it's against the rules to have bills, you know. Anyhow, what's the good of saving? There's lots more." It was March's turn to stare.
"What do you spend it for?" he asked.
"Oh, golf clubs and balls, and cakes and pies and things," answered West carelessly. "Then a fellow has to dress a little, or the other fellows look down on you."
"Do they?" March cast a glance over his own worn apparel. "Then I guess I must try their eyes a good deal."
"Well, I wouldn't care--much," answered West halfheartedly. "Though of course that hat--"
"Yes, I suppose it is a little late for straws." West nodded heartily. "I was going to get a felt in Boston, but--well, I saw something else I wanted worse; and it was my own money."
"What was it?" asked West curiously.
"A book." West whistled.
"Well, you can get a pretty fair one in the village at Grove's. And--and a pair of trousers if you want them."
March nodded, noncommittingly. They had reached the gymnasium.
"I'm going in for a shower," said West. "You'd better come along." March shook his head.
"I guess not to-night. It's most supper time, and I want to read a little first. Good-night."
"Good-night," answered West. "I'm awfully much obliged for what you did, you know. Come and see me to-morrow if you can; Number 2 Hampton. Good-night."
Joel March turned and retraced his steps to his dormitory. He found his roommate reading at the table when he entered Number 34. Sproule looked up and observed:
"I saw you with Outfield West a moment ago. It looks rather funny for a 'grind,' as you profess to be, hobnobbing with a Hampton House swell."
"I haven't professed to be a 'grind,'" answered Joel quietly, as he opened his Greek.
"Well, your actions profess it. And West will drop you quicker than a hot cake when he finds it out. Why, he never studies a lick! None of those Hampton House fellows do."
March made no answer, but presently asked, in an effort to be sociable:
"What are you reading?"
"The Three Cutters; ever read it?"
"No; what's it about?"
"Oh, pirates and smuggling and such."
"I should think it would be first rate."
"It is. I'd let you take it after I'm through, only it isn't mine; I borrowed it from Billy Cozzens."
"Thanks," answered Joel, "but I don't believe I'd have time for it."
"Humph!" grunted Sproule. "There you are again, putting on airs. Just wait until you've been here two or three months; I guess I won't hear so much about study then."
Joel received this taunt in silence, and, burying his head in his hands, tackled the story of Cyrus the Younger. Joel had already come to a decision regarding Richard Sproule, a decision far from flattering to that youth. But in view of the fact that the two were destined to spend much of their time together, Joel recognized the necessity of making the best of his roommate, and of what appeared to be an unsatisfactory condition. During the two days that Joel had been in school Sproule had nagged him incessantly upon one subject or another, and so far Joel had borne the persecution in silence. "But some day," mused Joel, "I'll just have to punch his head!"
Richard Sproule was a member of the senior class, and monitor for the floor upon which he had his room. He had, perhaps, no positive meanness in him. Most of his unpleasantness was traceable to envy. Just at present he was cultivating a dislike for Joel because of the latter's enviable success at lessons and because a resident of Hampton House had taken him up. Sproule cared nothing for out-of-door amusements and hated lessons. His whole time, except when study was absolutely compulsory, was taken up with the reading of books of adventure; and Captain Marryat and Fenimore Cooper were far closer acquaintances than either Cicero or Caesar. Richard Sproule was popularly disliked and shunned.
In the dining hall that evening Joel ate and relished his first hearty meal since he had arrived at Hillton. The exercise had brought back a naturally good appetite, which had been playing truant.
The dining hall takes up most of the ground floor of Warren Hall. Eight long, roomy tables are arranged at intervals, with broad aisles between, through which the white-aproned waiters hurry noiselessly about. To-night there was a cheerful clatter of spoons and forks and a loud babel of voices, and Joel found himself hugely enjoying the novelty of eating in the presence of more than a hundred and fifty other lads. Outfield West and his neighbors in Hampton House occupied a far table, and there the noise was loudest. West was dressed