The New Boy at Hilltop | Page 3

dragged a big valise into the room and closed the door
behind him, never for an instant taking his gaze off Kenneth. Then,
apparently concluding that the figure in the armchair was real flesh and
blood and not a creature of the imagination, he tossed his cap to the
table, revealing a rumpled mass of golden yellow hair, and looked
belligerently at the intruder.
"Say, you've got the wrong room, I guess," he announced.
"Here's where they put me," answered Kenneth gravely.
"Well, you can't stay here," was the inhospitable response. "This is my
room."

Kenneth merely looked respectfully interested. Joe Brewster slid out of
his ulster, frowning angrily.
"You're a new boy, aren't you!" he demanded.
"About an hour and a half old," said Kenneth. Somehow the reply
seemed to annoy Joe. He clenched his hands and stepped toward the
other truculently.
"Well, you go and see the matron; she'll find a room for you; there are
lots of rooms, I guess. Anyway, I'm not going to have you butting in
here."
"You must be Joseph Brewster," said Kenneth. The other boy growled
assent. "The fact is, Brewster, they put me in here with you because
you are such a fine character. Dr. Whatshisname said you were the
pride of the school, or something like that. I guess they thought
association with you would benefit me."
Joe gave a roar and a rush. Over went the armchair, over went Kenneth,
over went Joe, and for a minute nothing was heard in Number 12 but
the sound of panting and gasping and muttered words, and the colliding
of feet and bodies with floor and furniture. The attack had been
somewhat unexpected and as a result, for the first moments of the battle,
Kenneth occupied the uncomfortable and inglorious position of the
under dog. He strove only to escape punishment, avoiding offensive
tactics altogether. It was hard work, however, for Brewster pummeled
like a good one, his seraphic face aflame with the light of battle and his
yellow hair seeming to stand about his head like a golden oriflamb.
And while Kenneth hugged his adversary to him, ducking his head
away from the incessant jabs of a very industrious fist, he realized that
he had made a mistake in his estimation of his future roommate. He
was going to like him; he was quite sure he was; providing, of course
that said roommate left enough of him! And then, seeing, or rather
feeling his chance, he toppled Joe Brewster over his shoulder and in a
trice the tables were turned. Now it was Kenneth who was on top, and
it took him but a moment to seize Joe's wrists in a very firm grasp, a
grasp which, in spite of all efforts, Joe found it impossible to escape.

Kenneth, perched upon his stomach--uneasily, you may be sure, since
Joe heaved and tossed like a boat in a tempest--offered terms.
"Had enough?" he asked.
"No," growled Joe.
"Then you'll stay here until you have," answered Kenneth. "You and I
are going to be roommates, so we might as well get used to each other
now as later, eh? How any fellow with a face like a little pink angel can
use his fists the way you can, gets me!"
Kenneth was almost unseated at this juncture, but managed to hold his
place. Panting from the effects of the struggle, he went on:
"Seems to me Dr. Randall must be mistaken in you, Brewster. You
don't strike me at all as a model of deportment. Seems to me he and you
fixed up a pretty lively welcome for me, eh?"
The anger faded out of Joe's face and a smile trembled at the corners of
his mouth.
"Let me up," he said quietly.
"Behave?"
"Yep."
"All right," said Kenneth. But before he could struggle to his feet there
was a peremptory knock on the door, followed instantly by the
appearance of a third person on the scene, a dark-haired, sallow, tall
youth of fifteen who viewed the scene with surprise.
"What's up?" he asked.
Kenneth sprang to his feet and gave his hand to Joe. About them spread
devastation.
"I was showing him a new tackle," explained Kenneth easily.

Joe, somewhat red of face, shot him a look of gratitude.
"Oh," said the new arrival, "and who the dickens are you, kid?"
"My name's Garwood. I just came to-day. I'm to room with Brewster."
"Is that right?" asked the other, turning to Joe. Joe nodded.
"So he says, Graft. I think it's mighty mean, though. They let me have a
room to myself all fall, and now, just when I'm getting used to it, what
do they do? Why, they dump this chap in here. It isn't as though there
weren't plenty of other rooms!"
"Why