“Where’s Fenton?” inquired Tom, looking around.
“He didn’t come,” replied Dutch Housenlager. “We’ve been waiting for him.”
“Nasty scandal to get out about Randall,” commented Phil.
“Oh, we’ll take care that it doesn’t get out,” responded Holly. “Ford will keep still, and I’ll make a school-honor matter of it for the others. Only Fenton had better go back to his friends,” he added significantly.
I presume my readers have already guessed how the affair came about. Holly and his chums suspected, after seeing Fenton so chummy with Bascome and his crowd, that there might be at least a “leak” in regard to the time and place of the sophomore dinner. To forestall any such event, a ruse was adopted. It was arranged to hold the real dinner in a seldom-used hall, but to go ahead with arrangements as if one was going to take place in the usual building. To give color to this, Holly, Tom, Sid and Phil pretended to sneak off, as if to avoid the freshmen, but, in reality, to lead them on. Bascome and his followers trailed after, were drawn into the hall where the “fake” dinner table was set, and trapped, as told. They were locked in, and it was some time before they could summon help to open the doors.
Meanwhile the real banquet came off most successfully. Later the picture Sid had taken, of Bascome and the freshmen, rushing pell-mell into the supposed dining hall, was developed and printed, while its companion-piece was hung up with it, showing the triumphant sophomores gathered at the board, making merry. It made a great hit, and the freshmen did not hear the last of their defeat for many moons.
As for Fenton, he was made aware, that very night, of the fact that his indiscrete conduct, to give it the mildest term, was common knowledge. He withdrew from college, fearing the just wrath of his classmates, but, lest the scandal might stand against the fair name of Randall, he was induced to come back. He was promised that no punishment would be meted out to him, and none was, in the common acceptance of that term. But his life was made miserable in more ways than one.
The spring term was drawing to a close. With all the excitement attending the annual examinations there was mingled with it the anxiety about the baseball team, and Randall’s chances for winning the championship, and the gold loving cup. The latter was placed on view in one of the Haddonfield stores, and daily a crowd of persons, including many students, could be seen in front of the place.
“I wonder if we’ll get it?” asked Tom of Phil, a few days before the final game with Fairview.
“How are you on pitching?” asked Phil, for Tom had done little more than light practice since his accident.