“Think of it? I’d be ashamed to properly express myself, Tom. It’s rotten, that’s what it is. But I guess we’ve got enough names as it is.”
“Hope so, anyhow. I’m going to send it in, at any rate.”
The petition was duly delivered to Dr. Churchill, and a faculty meeting was called. A unanimous vote of the corps of instructors was needed to reinstate a student suspended from athletics for a violation of the rules, such as Sid had been accused of, this being one of the fundamental laws of the college since its inception. Now the absence of the names of the majority of the freshman class tended to operate against the petition being accorded an unprejudiced hearing, but what did more to keep Sid out was the vote of Professor Tines.
The latter could not get over the destruction of his silk hat, though a new one had been purchased for him, and when the final vote was taken he barred Sid from getting back on the nine.
“I have reason to believe that Mr. Henderson is inclined to too much horse-play,” he said, “as indicated by what he did to my hat. Again, if he were a popular student the freshmen would have joined in the request. They did not, as a class, and so I am constrained to vote as I do.”
None of the faculty—even Professor Tines—knew the real reason why the freshmen names were not down, and no one cared about mentioning it, for it was not a thing for students to discuss with the teachers. Mr. Leighton did his best, in a delicate way, but it was of no use. The petition failed, and not a few members of the faculty were deeply grieved, for they wanted to see a championship nine in Randall. Still they would not argue with Professor Tines.
And the chances of Randall winning the championship and the loving cup seemed to be diminishing from day to day, in spite of the strenuous efforts of Tom, Ed Kerr and Mr. Leighton. There was something lacking. No one could just say what it was, but there was a spirit of uncertainty, and a sense of worriment in the nine, that did not operate for perfect team work.
Tom threatened and pleaded by turns, but his words had little effect. The men showed up well in practice, and played a fast and snappy game with the scrub, but when it came to going out on the diamond there was a lack of batting ability and an absence of team work, that had a bad effect, and several games were won only by narrow margins, while some, that should have been won, were lost.
“We play Boxer Hall, Saturday,” observed Tom, in his room with Phil and Sid one evening. “I wonder how we’ll make out.”