"ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL"
Kenneth lay in bed in Doctor Randall's spare chamber. His left hand was bandaged and a wet cloth lay across his closed eyes. A window was open and the lowered shade billowed softly up and down, letting into the darkened room quick splashes of sunlight. From without came the cheerful patter of melting snow upon the sill.
Kenneth had had his breakfast—how long ago he could not say, since he had slept since then—and had learned all the exciting news; that Lower House was so badly burned that there was no question of repairing it; that Mr. Whipple had been sent to the hospital at Lynnminster, seriously but not dangerously hurt; that Grafton Hyde had received no damage and was about this forenoon wearing a strangely blank expression due to the loss of his eyebrows; and that King, to whose disregard of the rules the fire had been due, had, previous rumors to the contrary, escaped unharmed.
Kenneth's informant had been the school doctor, who had also imparted the information that Kenneth's injuries were trifling, a couple of scorched fingers and a pair of badly inflamed eyes, but that nevertheless he would kindly spend the day in bed, "as heroes are scarce these days and must be well looked after when found."
There came a soft tapping at the door and Kenneth peeked eagerly out from under the bandage as Grafton Hyde entered and tiptoed across the floor. Kenneth looked for a moment and grinned; then he chuckled; then he threw an arm across his face and gave way to laughter unrestrained. Grafton laughed too, though somewhat ruefully.
"Don't I look like a fool?" he asked.
Kenneth regained his composure with a gasp.
"I—I did n't mean to be rude," he said contritely, "but—"
"Oh, I don't mind." answered Grafton. "Besides, I '11 bet you 're the same way."
"Me?" Kenneth looked startled and passed a finger questioningly across his eyebrows. "There's nothing here!" he gasped. Off came the bandage. "How do I look?"
A smile started at Grafton's lips and slowly overspread his face. Kenneth smiled back.
"We must be a pair of freaks," he said, chuckling. "Do they ever grow back again?"
"Yes, in no time," answered Grafton. "Besides, Joe says that all you have to do is to take a pencil and rub it over and no one can tell. I 'm going to try it." He sat down cautiously on the edge of the bed. "How are you feeling?" he asked.
"All right. Kind of tired, though. How about you?"
"Fine." There was a silence during which he played nervously with a shoe strap. At last:
"I say, Garwood," he blurted, "it 's—it 's all right about—about that, you know. I told President Randall."
"You need n't have," muttered Kenneth.
"I wanted to! And I 'm sorry. It was a sneaky thing that I did to you. I—I don't know why I cared so much about staying on the team; I don't now."
"Did he—was he mad about it?"
"Was n't he! I am to be suspended for a month."
"I 'm sorry," said Kenneth honestly. "It– it was decent of you to tell."
"Decent nothing! It was decent of you not to blow on me the other day. Why did n't you?" he asked curiously.
"Oh, I don't know." answered Kenneth embarrassedly. "I– I did n't like to, I suppose. When are you going?"
"This afternoon. That 's why I came to see you now. I wanted to— to tell you that I was sorry about it and see if you would n't be friends."
"That 's all right," said Kenneth. "I— I 'm glad you came."
Had they been older they would have shaken hands. As it was they merely avoided looking at each other and maintained an embarrassed silence for a moment. It amounted to the same thing.
The silence was broken by a knock on the door.
"Come!" called Kenneth.
"Look at the heroes having a convention," said Joe gayly as he crossed the floor. "The Society of the Singed Cats! Well, how are you feeling, chum?"
"Fine and dandy," answered Kenneth.
"Good! Say, we had lots of fun last night! They bunked us in with the Upper House fellows, and maybe there was n't a circus! Every time we see King we ask him if it 's hot enough for him! I would n't be surprised if he folded his pajamas like the Arabs—that 's all he saved, you know—and as silently stole away. We 've sure got him worried!" He paused and looked inquiringly from Kenneth to Grafton. "Did Graft tell you?" he asked.
Kenneth nodded.
"I always told you he was n't a bad sort, did n't I? Don't you care, Graft; we 'll keep a place warm for you, and a month is just a nice vacation. Would n't mind it myself! Say, are you going to be fit to play in Saturday's game, Kenneth?"
"I don't know. Will they let me?"
"Why not? They have n't anything against you now, have they? How about your blessed eyes?"
"Oh, they 'll be all right, I guess. But I wish—Graft was going to play."
"Oh, I don't care," declared that youth stoutly. "Go in and give 'em fits, Kenneth. And—one of you fellows might write me about the game," he added wistfully.
"We 'll do it," said Joe. "We 'll write a full account and send diagrams of the broken heads of the Uppers. Only thing I 'm afraid of," he added soberly, "is that now' that Kenneth has n't any eyebrows they may take his head for the ball!"
Kenneth was up the next day feeling as fit as ever, but when the subject of returning to basketball practice was broached to the doctor, Kenneth met with disappointment.
"I can't allow it," said the doctor kindly but firmly. "I 'm sorry, but you know we 're responsible for you while you 're here, my boy, and I think you 'd better keep away from violent exercise for a week or two. No, no more basketball this year."
The verdict brought gloom to Lower House, or, as Upper facetiously called them now, the Homeless Ones. For with Grafton gone and Kenneth out of the game the team's plight was desperate. But there was no help for it, and so Jim Marble went to work to patch up the team as best he might, putting Simms back at guard and placing Niles, a substitute, at right forward.
The Homeless Ones were quartered wherever space could be found for them. Joe and Kenneth were so fortunate as to get together again in an improvised bedroom, which had previously been a disused recitation room, at the top of School Hall. Most of the Lower House residents had saved their principal effects and those who had lost their clothing were reimbursed by the school.
Friday morning two announcements of much interest were made.
"On Monday next," said the Doctor, "we receive a new member into the Faculty, Mr. George Howell Fair. Mr. Fair, who is a graduate of Princeton, will take the place left vacant by the resignation of Mr. Whipple, who was so unfortunately injured in the recent disaster. Mr. Fair will take up Mr. Whipple's work where that gentleman left off."
There was a stir throughout chapel, and murmurs of satisfaction. The Doctor picked up another slip of paper, cast his eyes over it and cleared his throat.
"You will also be pleased to learn," he said, "that in our time of tribulation generous friends have come to our assistance. We have lost one of our buildings but money has already been provided for the erection of a new and far more suitable one. I have received from Mr. John Garwood, of Cleveland, and Mr. Peter L. Hyde, of Chicago, a draft for the sum of one hundred thousand dollars for the erection of a large dormitory capable of housing the entire student body. The generous gift seems to me especially, singularly, appropriate, coming as it does from the fathers of those two students who recently so bravely distinguished themselves. With this thought in mind the Faculty has already decided that the new dormitory when completed shall be known as Garwood-Hyde Hall."
Well, Kenneth's secret was out! I hope and believe that his fellows held him in no higher esteem because they found out that he was the son of one of the country's wealthiest men. But true it is that for the next few days he was the object of violent interest not altogether unmixed with awe.
But Joe had to have everything explained, and as the shortest means to that result Kenneth produced a letter which he had received from his father the day before and gave it to Joe to read. Only portions of it interest us, however.
"The newspaper account (ran the letter) says that neither of you sustained serious injuries. I trust that it is so. But I think I had better satisfy myself on that point, and so you may look for me at the school on Saturday next. Your mother is anxious to have you come home, but I tell her that a little thing like pulling a professor out of the fire is n't likely to feaze a Garwood!
"Now, another thing. You recollect that when you decided to go to Hilltop we talked it over and thought it best to keep dark the fact that you were my son. You wanted to stand on your own merits, and I wanted you to. Then, too, we feared that Hyde's boy, because of the misunderstanding between Peter Hyde and myself, might try to make it uncomfortable for you. That alarm seems now to have been groundless, since surely a boy who could do what he did—and join you in doing it—would n't be likely to pick on another. But that 's of no consequence now, as it happens.
"Quite by accident I met Peter here the day after the papers published the story of your little stunt. Well, he was so tickled about it that we shook hands and had a 'touching reconciliation,' quite like what you see in the plays. We talked about 'those worthless kids' of ours and it ended up with his coming home to dinner with me. So you see you did more than save a professor's life; you brought about a renewal of an old friendship. After dinner we got to talking it over and decided the least we could do was to replace that building. So I've sent your Principal a draft by this mail which will cover the cost of a good new hall. I 'm giving half and Peter's giving half. I hope you and young Hyde will be good friends, just as his father and I are going to be hereafter. You may expect me Saturday."
"Now," cried Joe triumphantly when he had finished reading, "now I understand about those brushes!"
"What brushes?" asked Kenneth.
"Why, the night of the fire I threw your suit-case out of the window, and when I went down to get it it had bust open and was full of swell silver-backed things. I thought at first I'd got someone else's bag, but I found I had n't. And I wondered why you had n't had those brushes out."
"Oh," laughed Kenneth. "I thought they looked a bit too giddy!"
It was Saturday night and the gymnasium was crowded. The Faculty was there to a man, and with them, the honored guest of the evening, sat Mr. John Garwood, trying hard to make out what all the fuss was about and looking more often toward a bench at the side of the hall than toward the struggling players. On the bench, one of several blue-shirted players, sat Kenneth. He was forbidden to enter the game but there was nothing to prevent his wearing his uniform once more and sitting with the substitutes. But the fellows with him were not all subs. One was Simms, weary and panting, nursing a twisted ankle which a moment before had put him out of the game. And Upper House had suffered too, for across the floor Carl Jones was viewing the last of the contest from the inglorious vantage of the side-line. Upper and Lower were still shouting hoarsely and singing doggedly. On the scoreboard the legend ran:
No wonder every fellow's heart was in his throat! It had been a contest to stir the most sluggish blood. In spite of the absence of Grafton and Kenneth, Lower had played a hard, fast game, and had she made a decent per cent, of her tries at goal would have been the winner at this moment. But Jim Marble had missed almost every goal from foul, and Collier who had tried his hand, had been scarcely more successful. And now the score was tied and it seemed ages agone since the timekeepers had announced one minute to play.
The ball hovered in the middle of the floor, passed from side to side. Then Hurd of Upper secured it and, with a shout to Knox, sped, dribbling, down the side-line. But a blue-shirted youth sprang in front of him and the two went to the floor together while the ball bounded into the ready hands of Jim Marble.
"Oh, good work, Joe!" shouted Kenneth as Joe sprang to his feet and dived again into the play.
Jim, taking long and desperate chances, tried for a basket from near the center of the floor and missed by a bare six inches. A groan went up from the supporters of the Blue, while Upper House sighed its relief. Then there was a mix-up under Upper's goal and the whistle shrilled.
"Double foul!" called the referee.
A sudden stillness fell over the hall. Not a few of the players sank to the floor where they stood, while Knox picked up the ball and advanced to the line. Kenneth, watching with his heart in his throat, had a vague impression of Jim Marble bending across the rail in consultation with one of the Faculty.
Then the ball rose gently from Knox's hands, arched in its flight and came down square on the rim of the basket. For a moment it poised there while hearts stood still. Then it toppled gently over the side to the floor. Knox had missed!
Lower House set up a frantic chorus of triumph. If only Marble or Collier could succeed where Knox had failed! But neither Jim nor the left guard was going to try, it seemed. For over at the Blue's bench a lithe form was peeling off his sweater and in a moment the cry swept the hall:
"Garwood's going to throw! Garwood! Garwood!"
"It 's all right," Jim had whispered. "I asked the Doc. Do your best. If you make it we win, Garwood!"
Kenneth, his pulses far from calm, walked out on the floor and picked up the ball. The shouting died away and the sudden stillness seemed appalling. He toed the black streak across the boards and measured the distance to the basket. Then, his legs astraddle, his knees slightly bent, he swung the ball once— twice—
There was a moment of suspense, and then—
Then pandemonium broke loose! The ball dropped to the floor unheeded, but above it the tattered meshes of the netting swayed where it had struck them going through! It was the cleanest kind of a basket, and it won the game and the series and the Shield for Lower House!
Kenneth, fighting off the howling fellows who would have perched him on their shoulders, caught a glimpse of his father's amused face, and broke for the stairway.
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