Again, on Tuesday morning, there was no telegram, and when Hugh, at Bert’s suggestion, called up the telegraph office in the village he was informed that no message addressed to him had been received. Hugh was by now at a loss to explain his mother’s silence and Bert was anxious and a little bit unpleasant, intimating that Hugh had promised more than he could perform.
“I’m sorry I put you to so much trouble,” he said stiffly. “If I’d known, I might have got hold of the money somewhere else, I suppose.”
“You haven’t put me to any trouble, Bert, and I don’t understand why my mother hasn’t answered. The only explanation I can think of is that she has sort of dodged those telegrams, if you know what I mean. She might have left New York before the one I sent there was delivered and gone back to Shorefields. Then she may have gone to Philadelphia Sunday——”
“I should think she’d stay in one place a minute,” Bert complained. “Of course, if Fallow doesn’t come nosing around here before——”
“I say, I might send a message to Bowles, eh? Tell him to wire mother’s present address. I’ll do it at noon if we don’t hear before that. But it certainly does seem as if mother must have got one of my telegrams by this time!”
Bert couldn’t suggest anything better to do, and they went across to School Hall for English 4. It was a full morning for them both and neither had time to think a great deal about that telegram until they were through with Greek at twelve. Then Hugh again called up the telegraph office, received the same answer to his inquiry, and forthwith dispatched a message to Bowles at Shorefields, demanding an instant answer.
“That ought to be delivered by two o’clock,” said Hugh, “and if he answers right away we should hear by four.”
“That’s all right as long as Fallow doesn’t take it into his head to come over here and raise a row today. I promised I’d settle up with him yesterday, you see. Maybe he will give me another day or two, though. He would, don’t you think?”
“I’d say he should let you know before he went to faculty about it,” said Hugh. “If he sits tight until tomorrow I dare say we’ll have the coin for him.”
“That’s what we thought Saturday,” responded Bert morosely. “Well, we can’t do anything now but wait and see what happens, I guess. I’m going to dinner.”
Hugh had a conference with Mr. Rumford at two-thirty and when he got back to Lothrop it was nearly half-past three and Bert had gone down to the field. Hugh dumped his books, paused to scribble a memorandum, and then, changing coat and waistcoat for a sweater, started for the door. Simultaneously there was a knock on the half-opened portal and Hugh swung it open, revealing on the threshold a very stout man with very red cheeks and a very luxuriant mustache. That mustache so fascinated Hugh for a moment that he merely stood there and gazed. It was extremely black and it stuck out two or three inches on each side of a big, round face. Hugh wondered if it was real. Then the visitor spoke and Hugh realized that he had been rudely staring for several seconds.
“Mr. Winslow live here?” asked the caller in a voice that seemed to come from well down toward the lower button of the black-and-white plaid waistcoat.
“Yes, sir.” Hugh removed his gaze from the mustache with difficulty. The man moved forward and Hugh drew aside. By that time his wits were at work and he closed the door behind the visitor. “Sit down, won’t you?”
“Thanks,” rumbled the man. “My name’s Fallow; Fallow and Turner, over to Needham. Guess you know me, eh? Or ain’t you Winslow?”
“Mr. Fallow? Oh, yes, to be sure. I—I’ve heard of you, Mr. Fallow.”
“Guess you have,” said Mr. Fallow dryly. “A good many times. Well, what’s the verdict?”
“Why—er—I say, take a seat, won’t you? Try the big chair there. Now, sir, what can I do for you?”
For answer Mr. Fallow, grunting, plunged a hand inside his coat and drew forth a folded paper which he waved slowly in front of him.
“For me?” asked Hugh interestedly. “What—is it?”
“Say, you’re a cool one,” remarked the visitor in unwilling admiration. “Bless me if you ain’t. Well, this is a bill for thirty-four dollars and sixty cents, son. I ought to add interest to it, too, I guess, but I ain’t aiming to be hard on you. You all ready to pay it?”
Hugh shook his head regretfully. “I’m sorry to say I’m not, sir.”
“Oh, you ain’t?”
“No. You see, Mr. Fallow, I’ve been expecting some money ever since Saturday and it hasn’t come. I’m awfully sorry. It’s sure to be here tomorrow and——”
“Now look here, you!” Mr. Fallow scowled darkly. “That’s the same song-and-dance you’ve been giving me ever since last spring, and I’m sick of it. I ain’t in business for my health!”
“Certainly not, sir. Not that you don’t look jolly healthy, of course, but——”
“Say, don’t get fresh,” growled the other. “Never you mind how I look. All you got to do is to hand over my money. If you can’t do that——”
“But I can, sir, only I can’t do it today. Tomorrow——”
“Yah! You promised it yesterday, didn’t you? Well, I expect folks to keep their word, see? Tomorrow won’t do, son. You’ve had time enough.” He looked about the room sarcastically. “Living in quarters like these, eh, and can’t pay your just debts! Well, we’ll see what Mr. Thingamabob, your principal, has got to say about it.” Mr. Fallow stood up and with difficulty thrust the bill back into his pocket.
“But, I say,” exclaimed Hugh in alarm, “you’re not really going to do that?”
“You watch me!”
“Well, but—I say, now, look here a sec! I give you my word that bill will be paid this week, and——”
“You said tomorrow.”
“I’m almost certain it will be tomorrow, but my—my mother is away from home and I fancy she hasn’t got my telegram, don’t you know.”
“Well, tomorrow ain’t going to do—don’t you know! I’ve given you time enough on this, Winslow. You ain’t—you ain’t square with me. That’s what I don’t like. You’ve promised and promised. You begged me not to send the bill to your folks, and I didn’t. But times are hard and we need the money. What’s more we intend to have it.” Mr. Fallow moved ponderously toward the door. “I’m square with folks that are square with me, son; no one can’t say I don’t treat ’em fair; but I ain’t no one’s fool.”
“No, indeed, sir; anyone could see that, Mr. Fallow.” Hugh was thinking hard. “I say, would—would six dollars be any use to you?”
Mr. Fallow snorted. “It would not! Nor sixteen dollars! Nor—nor twenty-six dollars! I want thirty-four dollars and sixty cents. That’s what I want and that’s what I intend to have. If you can pay me that now, all right. If you can’t, say so. I can’t waste any more time here.”
“Well, but, that’s a lot of money to get hold of on short notice,” said Hugh ingratiatingly. “Suppose now I scrape up, say, twenty dollars, eh? And then pay the rest this week.”
Mr. Fallow hesitated and frowned deeply. “If you’ve got twenty why can’t you get hold of the rest?” he asked finally.
“I haven’t got twenty, sir. I’ve got only six. But I fancy I may be able to scrape up the rest if you’ll give me a few minutes.”
“Well—I—all right.” Mr. Fallow reseated himself. “But, mind you, I won’t take a cent less than twenty. And I ain’t going to stick around here all afternoon, either. You get a move on, son.”
“I’ll be as quick as I know how, sir. You’ll find some magazines on that table there. Just—just make yourself comfortable, sir.”
Mr. Fallow grunted.
A minute later there was a sharp knock on Cathcart’s door and in response to his “Come in!” Hugh entered.
“Hello, Hugh,” greeted the occupant of the window-seat. “Why aren’t you——”
“Don’t ask any questions, Wal! I want some money. All you can spare, please. I’ll pay you back before the end of the week.”
“Money!” Cathcart blinked. “Why, the fact is——”
“I know! You’re going to tell me you’ve got only a couple of dollars. That’s all right, old chap. I’ll take it, and thank you.”
“I’ve got about five, I guess, Hugh. What—what’s up?”
“I’ll tell you later. I’m in a beast of a hurry. Dig it up, will you? Better keep out fifty cents or so, because I might not be able to hand it back before Friday or Saturday.”
Cathcart’s countenance expressed bewilderment as he floundered to his feet and crossed to the dresser. But he obediently handed over the contents of a pigskin purse.
“Ripping!” said Hugh approvingly. “How much? Five and a quarter? That’s eleven. I say, keep a note of the amount, will you? Shall I take it all?”
Cathcart nodded. “I shan’t need any, I guess. Only,” he added plaintively, “I wish you’d tell me what it’s all about!”
“Later,” replied Hugh, making for the door. “Thanks awfully, old chap! So long.”
As he had feared, Guy Murtha was not at home, and, after making certain that Guy had not conveniently left any change lying around in sight, Hugh hurried out again. Ned Stiles roomed in Trow, and thither Hugh went. He didn’t know Stiles very intimately, but he wasn’t going to let that fact interfere if only he was so fortunate as to find Stiles in. But it was a gorgeous afternoon and Stiles, like most everyone else, was out. Disappointed, Hugh paused in the silent corridor and tried to think of someone else to apply to. But since most of his acquaintances were engaged in some form of athletics and would consequently be away from their rooms the problem suddenly looked extremely difficult. Then he remembered the office. He had never attempted to get money there and didn’t know how his request would be received, but he clattered down the stairs and sought out the secretary, Mr. Pounder, a gentleman whom he had spoken to but once and then but briefly, the occasion being the payment of Hugh’s fall term tuition fee. Mr. Pounder was small, light-haired and blue-eyed, sharp-featured and dry of voice. He received Hugh’s request coldly.
“Without instructions from parent or guardian, Ordway, we do not advance sums of money to students, and in your case I believe that we have not been—ah—so instructed. I am correct, am I not?”
“Yes, sir, but I need some money very badly, and there isn’t time to get it from home, and I thought maybe you’d be willing to make a loan. I could pay it back by Saturday surely.”
“I have no authority, Ordway. You might see Dr. Duncan or Mr. Rumford. Possibly——”
“I don’t believe there’s time. Where could I find Dr. Duncan?”
“I presume they will inform you at his house where he is to be seen, Ordway.”
“Oh, piffle! All right, sir.” Hugh vanished, leaving a surprised and somewhat shocked Mr. Pounder in possession of the room.
Turning into the main corridor Hugh very nearly collided with Mr. Crump, the janitor. Mr. Crump was a sharp-visaged man of some fifty years, with a leathery face, a pair of gimlet-like eyes behind old-fashioned steel-rimmed spectacles, and a thin, querulous voice. He was not popular with the fellows, nor can it be said that the fellows were popular with Mr. Crump. In Mr. Crump’s belief the students spent their waking hours devising ways to create dirt and dust in the School Hall. Hugh, however, knew little of the janitor. He had seen him about the building occasionally, had sometimes nodded to him, and had learned his name. Just now Mr. Crump was a possible friend in need, and Hugh, paying no heed to the man’s grumbles, cut off his advance.
“I say, Mr. Crump,” he exclaimed eagerly, “have you any money?”
Mr. Crump, suspecting that he was to be made the butt of some silly joke, responded shortly and pithily.
“No! Get out o’ my way!”
“Haven’t you, honestly? I’m in a beastly fix, Mr. Crump. I’ve got to get hold of five dollars somewhere. I tried Mr. Pounder and he wouldn’t loosen up a bit. I’d pay it back by Saturday, cross my heart!”
Mr. Crump grasped his broom more firmly, straightened his bent back and observed the boy with pardonable amazement. As long as he had been with the school, and that was many years, no one had ever tried to borrow money from him. Perhaps it pleased his sense of importance or perhaps something of earnestness in Hugh’s voice appealed to him, for after a moment’s scrutiny he asked quite mildly:
“What’s your name?”
“Ordway.”
“Oh, you’re the English boy, be you? And you’ve got to have five dollars, have you? Ain’t any of your friends got that much?”
“I dare say, but they’re all over at the field, and I’ve got to have the money right off, within a few minutes. I can’t explain, but that’s the way it is. I say, I’d be jolly glad to pay you six for the loan of five until Saturday.”
“Would you now? I want to know! How do I know I’d get it, eh?” Mr. Crump chuckled. “Five dollars is a sight of money for a poor man to risk.”
“But I tell you I’d pay you back!”
“Oh, you do, eh? I been told things before in my life, young man.”
Hugh flushed and turned away. “If you think my word isn’t good I don’t care to borrow, thanks,” he said offendedly.
“Well, hold on now! I ain’t said I wouldn’t, have I? What you so het up about?”
“I don’t like to have you insinuate that I don’t keep my word, that’s all.”
“Tut, tut! Goodness me, but you’re a queer one! Five dollars, you said? Four wouldn’t do you?”
“I’ve got to make up twenty, Mr. Crump, and I’ve got eleven. I’ll be glad of four, of course, but I don’t know where I’m to get the rest. I tell you!” Hugh pulled his gold watch from his pocket and placed it, with the attached fob, in Mr. Crump’s hand. “That’s worth over a hundred. Would you very much mind letting me have nine dollars on it? I’d redeem it Saturday at the latest. I say, do that for me, will you?”
Mr. Crump looked admiringly at the watch. “My land, but that is a nice watch, ain’t it now? And a coat-of-arms on it, too! Worth a hundred, be it? I want to know! Well, I dare say it is. Here.”
He handed it back and Hugh accepted it disappointedly. “You won’t?” asked the boy. “If I shouldn’t come for it you could easily get fifty for it.”
“Could I now? Sakes alive, young man, I ain’t no pawnbroker! My folks has lived in this county for a hundred and seventy years. One of my ancestors fought with General Putnam; fought against you British he did. Here, you wait just where you be a minute. I’ll be back.”
Mr. Crump leaned his broom against the wall and shuffled away down the corridor until he came to the basement door. After that Hugh could hear his footsteps clap-clapping down the stairs. Then there was silence, save for the clatter of a typewriter in the office at the end of the hall. Hugh looked at his watch and made a grimace of despair. It was nearly four o’clock! He wondered whether Mr. Crowley would put him to a lingering death or would dispatch him quickly and mercifully! Then Mr. Crump came back.
“Here you be, young man,” he said importantly. “There’s nine dollars.” He counted them slowly into Hugh’s hand, two twos and five ones, all very soiled and creased. “I’m expecting you to pay it back to me like you said, because—— But I know you will,” he ended hurriedly. “I ain’t doubting your word, mind. I can see you ain’t like the rest of these scallywags here. Maybe it’s because you’re an Englishman and have more sense of decency.”
“I say, I can’t begin to tell you how—how grateful I am,” said Hugh. “It’s perfectly ripping of you, Mr. Crump, and I’m no end obliged! I’ll pay it back to you just as soon as ever I can, by Saturday surely. Thanks awfully!”
“You’re welcome, sir, you’re quite welcome. If it comes to that, I guess the losing of it wouldn’t cripple me none. There’s—hm—I got a bit more put away in the bank.”
Hugh found Mr. Fallow standing in front of the photograph of Lockley Manor, his derby hat clasped behind him and an unlighted cigar protruding from under one end of that enormous mustache.
“Get it?” he asked as Hugh closed the door behind him.
“Yes.” Hugh pulled the money from his pocket and laid it on the table. Then he went into his room and returned with his own contribution of six dollars. “There it is, Mr. Fallow. Twenty dollars. You might count it, eh? And I dare say you’d better give me some sort of a receipt if you don’t mind.”
“Quite a business man, you are,” chuckled Mr. Fallow, seemingly restored to good humor by the money. “I’ll credit the amount on the bill here. There you are. Balance due, fourteen and sixty. Sorry to have to seem a bit pushing, Mr. Winslow, but in my business——”
“By the way, what is your business?” asked Hugh.
“Eh? My business? Well, don’t you know what you bought from me?”
Hugh shook his head. “I buy so much, you see,” he replied carelessly. “Boots, wasn’t it?”
“Clothes. A blue serge suit and a pair of flannel trousers. It’s set down there on the bill. Look here, you don’t mean that you’ve forgotten getting them, do you?”
“Quite.” Hugh yawned. “One buys a good many suits in the course of a year, you know.” He moved toward the door. “Sorry to hurry you, Mr. Fallow, but I’ve got an appointment.”
“Oh, that’s all right.” The man pocketed the money and buttoned his coat across that gaudy vest. “But, look here now, we don’t want any hard feelings over this—this little matter. We’d be sorry to lose your trade, Mr. Winslow, we would so. You don’t need to hurry none about that little balance. Just you take your time. And if you want anything in our line just you let us know. Always glad to serve you. I guess now, that suit you’re wearing the trousers of didn’t come from us, did it?”
“No, it happened to come from London; Ponderberry’s.”
“Is that so?” Mr. Fallow bent and examined the trousers with vast interest. There was a trace of awe in his voice as he nodded and whispered: “Nice stuff, nice, nice!”
“You’ll get the rest of that this week, Mr. Fallow,” said Hugh, opening the door invitingly. “As I said before, I’m sorry to hurry you, but——”
“That’s all right, Mr. Winslow, quite all right. I understand.” Mr. Fallow moved ponderously but quickly to the door. On the threshold, however, he stopped and fumbled in a pocket. “Just so you won’t forget us, Mr. Winslow,” he said with a smirk. “Our card, sir. We’ve got a nice line of woolens just arrived. Glad to have you look ’em over any time.”
“Thanks awfully. Good day.” Then, with the door half-closed, Hugh added: “Oh, I say, Mr. Fallow!”
“Yes?”
“I wish you’d tell me something if you don’t mind. It’s been bothering me a bit.”
“Why, certainly, anything I can tell you——”
“Yes; well, is that real or does it—er—come off?”
“What?” inquired Mr. Fallow blankly.
“Why, that—that—” Hugh made a vague gesture—“that thing on your lip.”
“Oh! Ha, ha, very good!” Mr. Fallow laughed wanly. “Good—good afternoon.”
“Good afternoon,” said Hugh sweetly.
Afterwards, hurrying across the green, he said to himself: “It was a bit caddish, and no mistake, but after what he put me through he certainly owed me something!”