CHAPTER XVI
For a moment Fred could scarcely believe his eyes, mechanically stooping and picking up the crisp pieces of paper. Then, as he caught sight of the letter "C" on each, he realized that he held two one-hundred-dollar bills.
"I've won! I've won!" he cried. "Here, Momsy, these are for you!" And, rushing to his mother, he placed the money in her hands.
Rejoicing in his success, the others expressed their delight in no uncertain ways, while Mrs. Markham sank into a chair and beamed upon them.
"What does the letter say?" inquired Grace suddenly, noticing that Fred still held the sheet of paper in his hand.
"Jove! I'd forgotten. Listen:
"My Dear Fred:"Accept my heartiest congratulations upon your success in winning the Second Form Scholarship in Science. Knowing what this means to you, I am enclosing the amount of the prize. As formal announcement of the award will not be made until to-morrow morning, I request that you only impart the news of your success to your good mother until then. With best wishes,"Richard Vining."
"My Dear Fred:
"Accept my heartiest congratulations upon your success in winning the Second Form Scholarship in Science. Knowing what this means to you, I am enclosing the amount of the prize. As formal announcement of the award will not be made until to-morrow morning, I request that you only impart the news of your success to your good mother until then. With best wishes,
"Richard Vining."
"Good for the Head. I always knew he was a brick!" exclaimed Buttons.
"It certainly is most considerate of him to relieve our suspense," said Mrs. Markham.
But in the hour of his happiness, Fred's thoughts were not of himself.
"I wonder if Bronson knew what this envelope contained," he mused. "It must have been rather hard on him if he did."
"Oh, don't worry abouthim," protested Margie. "This is an occasion of jubilation, not mourning."
"That's what, Cotton-Top," chimed in Buttons. "Come in to the feast, Mrs. Markham." And, seizing the happy woman by the arm, he led her to the supper-table, whither the others quickly followed, and what had promised to be a solemn meal was one of great merriment.
All at once, while the young people were enjoying themselves after supper, Fred laughed aloud.
"What is it now?" demanded Buttons.
"You can't any of you go home," grinned Fred.
"Why not?" asked the others.
"Because the Head requested me not to let the fact of my winning be known before to-morrow. If you go home, you'll tell about it. So you must stay here."
"But we can't," protested the girls.
"It isn't a question of can; it's one of must," declared Fred.
"But mother will worry," persisted Margie.
"Yes; I'm afraid she will," interposed Mrs. Markham.
"I'll fix that," announced the winner of the prize.
"How?" inquired both girls.
"Go round to Buttons' and telephone to both your mothers."
"But you'll have to tell them you won over the phone—which would mean the whole town," declared Grace.
"Trust me not to. I'll just say you are going to stay at our house, and hang up the receiver before they can ask questions."
"Buttons may tell, though," suggested Margie.
"No, he won't. Will you?"
"Sure not. It's too decent of the Head to let us know Fred won to throw him down."
In their hearts, Margie and Grace were only too delighted at the thought of not going home, and, as the obstacles they had raised were removed, they sighed resignedly.
Mrs. Newcomb and Mrs. Darling, however, proved less easy to assure, and the boys found it necessary to take Buttons' mother into their confidence before the desired permission was obtained.
"I'm so glad you won, Fred," declared the good woman. "You certainly worked hard for it. Ever since that Bart Montgomery acted so atrociously when you went down to see the football elevens off, I've hoped it wouldn't go to Alice."
"You must not blame her for Bart's actions," exclaimed Fred. "Alice is no more like the rest of the Montgomerys than I am."
"Which is some difference," chuckled Buttons. "Come on, Cotton-Top. Let's get back. Now, mother, don't forget—you're keeping a secret." And, with a merry laugh, the boys took their departure.
Exempt from the examinations because they had attained a daily average of ninety per cent. or better, the four young people were aware the notice of the Scholarship award would be placed on the bulletin-board early, and they timed their arrival at school the next morning so that Fred's success would be known first. But they had no idea of the manner of his greeting.
No sooner had one of his Form mates caught sight of Fred's yellow head, than he raised a shout, and in a flash all the students rushed out to meet him.
"Three cheers for old Cotton-Top!" yelled Soda, hugging his chum.
With a will, they were given, and then repeated.
"Speech! Speech!" shouted some one, as the tumult subsided.
Instantly the cry was taken up, the boys and girls chanting in rhythm:
"Speech! Speech! Speech!"
Blushing, Fred tried to escape, but his schoolmates good-naturedly hemmed him in on all sides.
"I appreciate your good will," he began at last, "but I never should have won had not my friends helped me in my studying. Indeed, it is they who deserve the credit, not I."
Fred had been on the point of saying Alice Montgomery, instead of "friends," but as the words were on his tongue's end, he chanced to see Bart's face, malignant with anger and disappointment, peering at him from the edge of the crowd, and, fearing the bully would wreak his vengeance on his sister, should he learn of her actions, he had wisely refrained from paying such tribute to the girl.
But before he went home to dinner, he mailed Alice a note, in which he attributed his success solely to her patient assistance.
The Scholarship thus awarded, the students settled down to the grind of the mid-year examinations.
On the third day succeeding the public announcement of the award, Fred received two letters. One he recognized as from his father, but the other puzzled him.
"Who on earth do you suppose is writing me from Boston?" he exclaimed, after scanning the postmark.
"There's only one way to find out when you receive a letter whose authorship you do not recognize," smiled Mrs. Markham.
But Fred did not open the missive at once, preferring to read what his father had to say.
In affectionate terms, Mr. Markham told Fred how proud he was of him, and then explained that his winning the money for his mother would enable him to use his salary to defray the expense of having a handwriting expert examine the deed of his property, which had been changed, and compare it with specimens of Charlie Gibbs' penmanship.
This statement suggested many possibilities to the mother and son; and, in their discussion, the second letter was forgotten until, in Fred's moving, it dropped to the floor.
Their attention thus recalled to it, Mrs. Markham bade him open it.
"Why, it's from Clothespin," the boy exclaimed, as he turned to the signature. "And he's enclosed a check," he continued, turning to the last page and discovering the substitute for money.
"Mercy me! What for? Do read what he says," urged Mrs. Markham.
"Dear Cotton-Top," he began, "I'm mighty glad you won out. I asked Mr. Vining, and he told me before I left. Upon my arrival home, I found father ready to take a business trip to Boston, and persuaded him to let me go with him. But he is busy all day, and I'm lonesome—so he asked if there were any of my schoolmates I should like to have visit me. I told him you were the only boy I cared about, and he asked me to send you this check and invite you to come down—you know he has been interested in you ever since I wrote him after my arrival at Baxter how kind you were to me when all the others made fun of me."Please come, Fred. Telegraph me what train you will take, and I will meet you at the station. Expectantly,Clothespin."
"Dear Cotton-Top," he began, "I'm mighty glad you won out. I asked Mr. Vining, and he told me before I left. Upon my arrival home, I found father ready to take a business trip to Boston, and persuaded him to let me go with him. But he is busy all day, and I'm lonesome—so he asked if there were any of my schoolmates I should like to have visit me. I told him you were the only boy I cared about, and he asked me to send you this check and invite you to come down—you know he has been interested in you ever since I wrote him after my arrival at Baxter how kind you were to me when all the others made fun of me.
"Please come, Fred. Telegraph me what train you will take, and I will meet you at the station. Expectantly,
Clothespin."
"Oh, Fred! Isn't that fine. I've hated to take the money you earned and not give you some pleasure in return. And now this opportunity has come. I'm so thankful. Why, the check is for fifty dollars. That will buy you a new suit of clothes, and leave you enough for your fare down and back."
The prospect of a trip to Boston was, indeed, enticing to the boy, yet he hesitated about saying so.
"I wonder if I couldn't send the money to father instead of going?" he asked.
"No, indeed. Mr. Bronson sent it to you to use in going to Boston. Unless you wish to go, you have no right to it, and must return it."
"But you'll be too lonesome, Momsy."
"No, she won't, because I'll stay with her," announced a cheery voice, and, turning, the mother and son beheld Margie, who had entered without the formality of rapping, in time to hear the latter part of the conversation. "You must go, Fred. You deserve a little pleasure, if ever any one did."
Thus assured that his mother would not be alone, the boy decided to start that very afternoon, and telegraphed Bronson to that effect.
The lawyer did not seem at all the formidable man Fred supposed him to be, and Mr. Bronson, on his part, took a great liking to the manly boy, of whose persecution by the rich bully, his son had told him.
Under cover of this cordiality, Fred plucked up courage one evening to tell about the strange actions of Mr. Montgomery and Charlie Gibbs at the bank.
Instantly the lawyer was all attention, and, after he had heard the story once, he made the boy repeat it, questioning him searchingly upon the incidents.
"H'm; if Montgomery is in the habit of going to the bank at night with his brother-in-law, it will explain several things," he mused.
But though the boy sought to draw him out, he was unable, Mr. Bronson dismissing the subject with the remark that Fred was too young to understand such things. Yet, on the day of his return to Baxter, he had the satisfaction of being asked by the lawyer to advise him of any suspicious actions by either Mr. Montgomery or Gibbs.
After the opening of the second semester, the students amused themselves as best they could after school hours until the call was issued for candidates for the baseball team.
As any boy in good standing was eligible, the gymnasium was well filled when Hal Church, who had been elected captain at the close of the previous season, greeted the candidates.
"First, I'll take the names of those who played last year," he announced.
Quickly the boys came forward, each stating the position for which he intended to try.
Among the first to enroll was Bart, who declared he was out for pitcher. Then followed Lefty, third base; Shorty Sims, shortstop; Taffy, right field; Sandow, first base, and Fred, who signified his intention of trying for second base.
"Don't put him down; he threw my football game to Landon," growled Bart.
If a bomb had been dropped among the boys, no greater consternation could have been produced than by this remark.
"You know better than that, Montgomery," shouted Sandow above the babel of voices.
"Do you mean to tell me if Fred had played we wouldn't have won?" demanded Bart angrily.
"No, I don't."
"I thought not," sneered the rich bully.
"But I tell you what Idomean," flashed the leader of the Firsts. "I mean if you had kept your head after Thomas slugged your nose, and sent Buttons against the line, instead of always signalling for the ball to be given to you, the Seconds would have won—or at least made a better showing."
This open charge of both incompetence and selfish desire to carry the ball set Bart beside himself.
"You have no license to talk—your team didn't do wonders," he retorted. "If——"
"Yes, it did! Yes, it did! Sandow held them to no score until he was carried from the field," shouted several of the boys.
But Bart only grew more angry at these emphatic contradictions.
"I don't care what you say or think," he flared. "If that Fred Markham plays on the Baxter baseball team, I won't, and I'm the only decent pitcher in the school."
This defiance threatened to bring the rival factions to blows. But Hal was equal to the occasion.
"I am captain of this team, Montgomery," he declared when he had produced a semblance of order. "I want you to understand that, first, last and all the time. As captain, I shall play the players I want—not the ones you want."
"Humph!"
"If Fred Markham wants to try for second base, he can have all the show in the world, and if he makes good, he'll play the bag in——"
"Then I won't pitch," snarled Bart.
At this second defiance, Hal was silent a moment.
"Who's throwing the schoolnow?" he flashed. "You seem to think you're running this team, but you're not. You'll either report for practice at the grounds this afternoon at three o'clock, or you'll not pitch a single ball for Baxter this season. Now leave the gymnasium, so I can enroll the rest of the candidates."
"And if I don't?"
"I'll put you out!" retorted the captain, stepping down from the chair on which he had been standing and forcing his way through the excited throng of students.