Andy at Yale Page 4

  CHAPTER IV

  THE PICTURE SHOW

  Andy's chums looked curiously at him. Chet's chance remark had broughtback to them the memory of the old enmity between Andy Blair andMortimer Gaffington, the rich young "sport" of Dunmore. It was an enmitythat had happily been forgotten in the joy of life at Milton. Now itloomed up again.

  "That's right, that cad Mort does hang out at New Haven," remarked Tom."That is, he did. But maybe they've fired him," he added, hopefully.

  "No such luck," spoke Andy, ruefully. "I had a letter from my sisteronly the other day, and she mentioned some row that Mort had gotten intoat Yale. Came within an ace of being taken out, but it was smoothedover. No, I'll have to rub up against him if I go there."

  "Well, you don't need to have much to do with him," suggested Frank.

  "And you can just make up your mind that I won't," spoke Andy. "I'llsteer clear of him from the minute I strike New Haven. But don't let'stalk about it. Where's that waiter, anyhow? Has he gone out to kill afatted calf?"

  "Here he comes," announced Ben. "Get a move on there, Adolph!"

  "Yah!"

  "And don't wait for my French fried potatoes to sprout, either," addedChet.

  "Yah, shure not!"

  "Oh, look who's here!" exclaimed Tom, nodding toward a newcomer. "Shootin over here, Swipes!" he called to a tall lad, whose progress throughthe room was marked by friendly calls on many sides. He was a generalfavorite, Harry Morton by name, but seldom called anything but "Swipes,"from a habit he had of taking or "swiping" signs, and other mementoes oftradesmen about town; the said signs and insignia of business lateradorning his room.

  "Got space?" asked Harry, as he paused at the little compartment whichheld our friends.

  "Surest thing you know, Swipes. Shove over there, Frank. Are you tryingto hog the whole bench?"

  "Not when Swipes is around," was the retort. "I'll leave that to him."

  "Half-ton benches are a little out of my line," laughed the newcomer, ashe found room at the table. "Bring me a rarebit, Adolph, and don't leaveout the cheese."

  "No, sir, Mr. Morton! Ho! ho! Dot's a goot vun! A rarebit mitout dercheese! Ach! Dot is goot!" and the fat German waiter went off chucklingat the old joke.

  "What's the matter, Andy, you look as if you'd had bad news from yourbest girl?" asked Harry, clapping Andy on the shoulder. "Cheer up, theworst is yet to come."

  "You're right there!" exclaimed Andy, heartily. "The worst _is_ yet tocome. I'm going to Yale----"

  "Hurray! Rah! rah! That's the stuff! But talk about the worst, I can'tsee it. I wish I were in your rubbers."

  "And that dub Mortimer Gaffington is there, too," went on Andy. "That'sthe worst."

  "I don't quite get you," said Harry, in puzzled tones. "Is thisGaffington one of the bulldog profs. who eats freshmen alive?"

  "No, he's a fellow from our town," explained Andy, "and he and I are onthe outs. We've been so for a long time. It was at a ball game some timeago. Our town team was playing and I was catching. Mort was pitching. Heaccused me of deliberately throwing away the game, and naturally I wentback at him. We had a fight, and since then we haven't spoken. He'srich, and all that, but I don't like him; not because I beat him in afair fight, either. Well, he went to Yale last year, and I was gladwhen he left town. Now I'm sorry he's at Yale, since I'm going there. Iknow he'll try to make it unpleasant for me."

  "Oh, well, make the best of it," advised Harry, philosophically. "Hecan't last for ever. Here comes my eats! Let's get busy."

  "So Mort will be a sophomore when you get to New Haven, will he?" askedFrank of Andy.

  "He will if he doesn't flunk, and I don't suppose he will. He's smartenough in a certain way. Oh, well, what's the use of worrying? As Harrysays, here come the eats."

  Adolph staggered in with a well-heaped tray containing Harry's order,and he and his chums finished their meal talking the while. The eveningwore on, more students dropping in to make merry in Kelly's. A largegroup formed about the nucleus made by Andy and his chums. These ladswere seniors in the preparatory school, and, as such, were looked up toby those who had just started the course, or who were finishing theirfirst year. In a way, Milton was like a small college in some matters,notably in class distinction, though it was not carried to the extent itis in the big universities.

  "What are you fellows going to do?" asked Harry, as he pushed back hischair. "I'm feeling pretty fit now. I haven't an enemy in the world atthis moment," and he sighed in satisfaction. "That rarebit was sure abird! Are you fellows out for any fun?"

  "Not to-night," replied Andy. "I'm going to cut back and write someletters."

  "Forget it," advised Harry. "It's early, and too nice a night to go tobed. Let's take in a show."

  "I've got some boning to do," returned Frank, with a sigh.

  "And I ought to plug away at my Latin," added Chet, with another sigh.

  "Say, but you fellows are the greasy grinds!" objected Harry. "Why don'tyou take a day off once in a while?"

  "It's easy enough for you, Swipes; Latin comes natural to you!"exclaimed Tom. "But I have to plug away at it, and when I get through Iknow less than when I started."

  "And as for me," broke in Chet, "I can read a page all right in theoriginal, but when I come to translate I can make two pages of it inEnglish, and have enough Latin words left over to do half another one.No, Swipes, it won't do; I've got to do some boning."

  "Aw, forget it. Come on to a show. There's a good movie in town thisweek. I'll blow you fellows. Some vaudeville, too, take it from me.There's a pair who roll hoops until the stage looks like a barrelfactory having a tango dance. Come on. It's great!"

  "Well, a movie wouldn't be so bad," admitted Tom. "It doesn't last untilmidnight. What do you say, fellows?"

  "Oh, I don't know," came from Andy, uncertainly.

  "I'll go if you fellows will," remarked Frank.

  "Oh, well, then let's do it!" cried Tom. "I guess we won't flunkto-morrow. We can burn a little midnight electricity. Let 'er go!"

  And so they went to the moving picture show. It was like others of itskind, neither better nor worse, with vaudeville acts and songsinterspersed between the reels. There was a good attendance, scores ofthe Milton lads being there, as well as many persons from the town andsurrounding hamlets.

  Our friends found seats about the middle of the house. It was a sort ofcontinuous performance, and as they entered a girl was singing a song ona well-lighted stage. Andy glanced about as he took his seat, and metthe gaze of Link Bardon. He nodded at him, and the young farmer noddedback.

  "Who's that--a new fellow?" asked Harry, who was next to Andy.

  "Not at school--no. He's a hired man we found being beaten up by an oldcodger of a farmer when we walked out this afternoon. We took his partand made the farmer trot Spanish. I guess Link is taking a day off withthe wages we got for him," and he detailed the incident.

  The show went on. Some of the students became boisterous, and there werehisses from the audience, and demands that the boys remain quiet. Onelad, who did not train in the set of Andy and his friends, insisted onjoining in the chorus with one of the singers, and matters got to such apass that the manager rang down the curtain and threatened to stop theperformance unless the students behaved. Finally some of the companionsof the noisy one induced him to quiet down.

  Following a long picture reel a girl came out to sing. She was prettyand vivacious, though her songs were commonplace enough. In one of thestage boxes were a number of young fellows, not from Milton, and theybegan to ogle the singer, who did not seem averse to their attentions.She edged over to their box, and threw a rose to one of the occupants.

  Gallantly enough he tossed back one he was wearing, but at that moment acompanion in front of him had raised a lighted match to his cigarette.

  The hand of the young man throwing the rose to the singer struck theflaring match and sent it over the rail of the box straight at theflimsy skirts of the performer.

  In an insta
nt the tulle had caught fire, and a fringe of flame shotupward.

  The singer ceased her song with a scream that brought the orchestra to astop with a crashing chord, and the girl's cries of horror were echoedby the women in the audience. The girl started to run into the wings,but Andy, springing from his seat on the aisle, made a leap for thebrass rail behind the musicians.

  "Stand still! Stand still! Don't go back there in the draft!" criedAndy, as he jumped upon the stage over the head of the orchestra leaderand began stripping off his coat.