He didn’t go into details and explain that the “nice quiet lodging” was a third-floor rear whose gables gave David’s six feet of length but little leeway. It was quiet because the third floor was 144 not heated, and its occupants therefore stayed away as much as possible. His services as waiter were required only at dinner time, in exchange for which he received that meal. His breakfast and luncheon he procured as best he could; sometimes he dispensed with them entirely. Crackers, milk, and fruit, as the cheapest articles of diet, appeared oftenest on his ménu. Sometimes he went fishing and surreptitiously smuggled the cream of the catch up to his little abode, for Mrs. Tupps’ “rules to roomers,” as affixed to the walls, were explicit: “No cooking or washing allowed in rooms.” But Mrs. Tupps, like her fires, was nearly always out, for she was a member of the Woman’s Relief Corps, Ladies’ Aid, Ladies’ Guild, Woman’s League, Suffragette Society, Pioneer Society, and Eastern Star. At the meetings of these various societies she was constant in attendance, so in her absence her roomers “made hay,” as David termed it, cooking their provender and illicitly performing laundry work in the bathtub. Still, there must always be “on guard” duty, for Mrs. Tupps was a stealthy stalker. One saw her not, but now 145 and then there was a faint rustle on the stair. David’s eyes and ears, trained to keenness, were patient and vigilant, so he was generally chosen as sentinel, and he acquired new caution, adroitness, and a quietness of movement.
There had been three or four close calls. Once, she had knocked at his door as he was in the act of boiling eggs over the gas jet. In the twinkling of an eye the saucepan was thrust under the bed, and David, sweet and serene of expression, opened the door to the inquisitive-eyed Tupps.
“I came to borrow a pen,” she said shamelessly, her eyes penetrating the cracks and crevices of the little room.
David politely regretted that he used an indelible pencil and possessed no pens.
In the act of removing all records and remains of feasts, David became an adept. Neat, unsuspicious looking parcels were made and conveyed, after retiring hours, to a near-by vacant lot, where once had been visible an excavation for a cellar, but this had been filled to street level with tin cans, paper bags, butter bowls, cracker 146 cases, egg shells, and pie plates from the House of Tupps.
His miscellaneous employment, mentioned in his letter, was any sort of work he could find to do.
David became popular with professors by reason of his record in classes and the application and concentration he brought to his studies. His prowess in all sports, his fairness, and the spirit of camaraderie he always maintained with his associates, made him a general favorite. He wore fairly good clothes, was well groomed, and always in good spirits, so of his privations and poverty only one or two of those closest to him were even suspicious. He was entirely reticent on the subject, though open and free in all other discourse, and permitted no encroachment on personal matters. One or two chance offenders intuitively perceived a slight but impassable barrier.
“Dunne has grown a little gaunt-eyed since he first came here,” said one of his chosen friends to a classmate one evening. “He’s outdoors enough to counteract overstudy. But do you 147 suppose he has enough to eat? So many of these fellows live on next to nothing.”
“I shouldn’t be surprised if he were on rations. You know he always makes some excuse when we invite him to a spread. He’s too proud to accept favors and not reciprocate, I believe.”
David overheard these remarks, and a very long walk was required to restore his serenity. During this walk he planned to get some extra work that would insure him compensation requisite to provide a modest spread so that he might allay their suspicions. Upon his return to his lodgings he found an enormous box which had come by express from Lafferton. It contained Pennyroyal’s best culinary efforts; also four dozen eggs, a two-pound pat of butter, coffee, and a can of cream.