JACK knew there was little fear of detection, for, on several other occasions, when he had been denied the privilege of going out on an evening, he had climbed from the window of his room, out on the roof of a low shed, and, by means of the lightning rod, to the ground. He intended doing it this time.
He finished his supper, and wished it had been larger. But he consoled himself with the reflection that he could fill the void in his stomach later with an ice cream soda.
“Now to get out,” said Jack, as he went to the door and listened, to see if the professor or his sister was about. He heard nothing.
It was a small matter for the boy to get out of the window. He had wrapped the big catching glove up in a paper, and he dropped it out of the casement, so that he might have both hands free with which to climb down.
“So far, so good,” he murmured, as he picked up the glove, and started down a rear path to get beyond the house, when he would strike out for the village. But, just as he thought he was safe, he heard some one moving on the other side of a large lilac bush, and, before he could get out of the way, he was confronted by Miss Klopper. She had been out to feed a late supper to a hen and some little chickens in the lower part of the garden.
“Does my brother know you have left your room?” asked the lady of the house.
“I don’t know,” replied Jack.
That was truthful enough, for Mr. Klopper had a habit of sneaking up to Jack’s room, to look through the keyhole, on such occasions as he sent the lad to his apartment for punishment, and the crabbed old man might, even now, have discovered the absence of his ward.
“Didn’t he tell you to stay in your room?” went on Miss Klopper.
“He did, but I don’t want to. It’s too nice out,” and Jack took in deep breaths of the air, laden with the sweet scent of roses.
“You must go back at once,” went on the spinster.
“I’m not going to,” replied Jack. “I’m going to have a good time for once in my life.”
“I shall tell my brother of your insubordinate conduct.”
“I don’t care,” fired back Jack, as he hurried on.
“What have you in that bundle?” demanded Miss Klopper, as she saw the package the youth carried.
“Something of my own.”
“I demand to know what it is!”
“And I’m not going to tell you. It’s mine, and I have a perfect right to do as I please with my own things. Suffering cats!” exclaimed Jack softly. “I wish dad and mom was home,” and, not caring to have any further discussion with Miss Klopper, he passed on, before she would have a chance to summon the professor.
Jack was a good boy at heart, and he never would do a mean act, but the professor and his sister had treated him so harshly, though perhaps they did not appreciate it, that his spirit rose in rebellion.
Life at the professor’s house was becoming intolerable for Jack. How he wished his parents would come home. Yet it seemed now, with no news arriving from them, that it would be several months more before he could hope to be released from the guardianship of Mr. Klopper.
Jack made all haste to the town, from which the professor’s house was distant about a mile. He wanted to find Tom, and dispose of the glove in time to see the show from the start. He knew Tom would buy the mitt, for he had often expressed a wish to purchase it, and Tom usually had plenty of spending money.
Passing through the village streets Jack met several boys he knew.
“Going to the show?” was the question nearly every one of them asked of him.
“Sure,” he replied, as though he had several dollars in his pockets, with which to buy tickets. “I’ll meet you there. Seen Tom Berwick?” he went on.
“Yep. He’s down in Newton’s drug store buying sodas.”
Jack turned his steps thither, and met Tom coming from the place. Tom was wiping his mouth in a suggestive manner.
“Why didn’t you see me a minute sooner?” he asked. “I’d have bought you a soda,” for Tom was a most generous lad.
“Wish you had,” replied Jack. “Say, Tom, want to buy my catching glove?”
“What’s the matter with it?” asked Tom quickly, for he had several times before offered to purchase the big mitt, only to be met with a refusal. “Ain’t it any good?”
“Sure, it’s good!”
“Then what you want to sell for?”
“Well, I’m going to play short this season, and I don’t need a catching glove. It’s a dandy. Look at it,” and Jack handed it to Tom, having taken off the paper wrapping when he was out of sight of the professor’s house.
“It’s all right,” acknowledged Tom, after a critical inspection. “How much?”
“Give me two dollars?”
Jack had his own ideas about finance.
“Go on. I will not.”
“It cost seven.”
“Yes; two seasons ago. I can get a new one for three dollars.”
“Not like that.”
“Well, maybe not, but good enough.”
“I’ll let you have it for a dollar and a half,” went on Jack. “That’s cheap enough.”
“Give you a dollar,” replied Tom quickly, who knew how to bargain.
“All right,” and Jack sighed a little. He had hoped to get enough to put aside some cash for future emergencies.
Tom passed over the dollar. Then he tried on the glove. It certainly was a good one.
“Come on in and I’ll treat you to a soda,” he proposed generously, for he decided that he had obtained a bargain, and could afford to treat.
“Going to the show?” asked Tom, as the two came out of the drug store.
“Sure. That’s what I sold the glove for.”
“What’s the matter? Don’t your dad send you any money?”
“Yes, he left some for me, but it’s like pulling teeth to get it from old Klopper. He wouldn’t give me even fifty cents to-night, and he sent me to my room. But I sneaked out, and I’m going to have some fun.”
“That’s the way to talk! He’s a regular hard-shell, ain’t he?”
“I should say yes! But come on, or maybe we won’t get a good seat.”
“Oh, I got my ticket,” replied Tom. “Besides, I want to take this glove home. I’ll see you there.”
Jack hastened to the town auditorium, where, occasionally, traveling theatrical shows played a one-night stand. There was quite a throng in front of the box office, and Jack was afraid he would not get a seat, but he managed to secure one well down in front.
The auditorium began to fill up rapidly. Jack saw many of his chums, and nodded to them. Then he began to study the program. An announcement on it caught his eye. It was to the effect that during the entertainment a chance would be given to any amateur performers in the audience to come upon the stage, and show what they could do in the way of singing, dancing or in other lines of public entertaining. Prizes would be given for the best act, it was stated; five dollars for the first, three for the second, and one for the third.
“Say,” Jack whispered to Tom, who came in just then, “going to try for any of those prizes?”
“Naw,” replied Tom, vigorously chewing gum. “I can’t do nothin’. Some of the fellows are, though. Arthur Little is going to recite, and Sam Parsons is going to do some contortions. Why, do you want to try?”
“I’d like to.”
“What can you do?”
“My clown act,” replied Tom. “I’ve got some new dancing steps, and maybe I could win a prize.”
“Sure you could,” replied Tom generously. “Go ahead. I’ll clap real loud for you.”
“Guess I will,” said Jack, breathing a little faster under the exciting thought of appearing on a real stage. He had often taken the part of a clown in shows the boys arranged among themselves, but this would be different.
“Ah, there goes the curtain!” exclaimed Tom, as the orchestra finished playing the introduction, and there was a murmur all over the auditorium, as the first number of the vaudeville performance started.