Unlike other students at Oakdale who came from out of town, Ned did not simply room or board; he lived in the home of a widow by the name of Mrs. Chester, who had been induced to take him in through what was said to be a surprisingly liberal money consideration. In Mrs. Chester’s house he had a sitting-room and a bedroom with an adjacent bath, and it was said that the widow, perhaps a bit impressed by having such a young swell in her home, permitted him to do about as he pleased in his rooms.
Now a fellow like this might through snobbery easily make himself unpopular in a country school, but Osgood’s seeming whole-souled, manly boyishness, combined with an unusual knack at all-round sports and baseball in particular, had overcome the prejudice of many chaps who were inclined at the outset to regard him with disfavor. His staunchest friend, however, was Charley Shultz, with whom he had taken up almost immediately, and who seemed so remarkably different from him in every way that wonderment over their chumminess was justified. Shultz was rough and brusque and not infrequently positively boorish; furthermore, he was something of a bully, although, finding this bent disapproved by Osgood, he plainly sought to hold the inclination in check.
Among the village girls Ned was greatly admired, but with the boys a strong point in his favor was the fact that, although always pleasant and polite, he rarely attempted to play the gallant. He seemed to prefer fellows of his own age and with similar tastes in sports to the prettiest girl of the village or the school, and, although some of the misses were miffed over this, he rarely wasted time in their company.
Another point in his favor was the fact that, although he was known to have a pocket full of spending money and sometimes spent it generously on his companions, he managed to avoid patronism, and did not make the fellow less supplied with coin feel small or mean on that account. In short, he was generally sized up as “a jolly good fellow,” and, although they had not ventured to say as much, several members of the nine had thought that Nelson was rather too hasty and harsh in sending Osgood to the bench for his disregard of orders. Besides Jack Nelson, Rodney Grant and Ben Stone were almost the only ones who had not fallen powerfully beneath the spell of Osgood’s personality.
During the most of the homeward trip Shultz sat silent on a seat which also held Tuttle and Piper. Once or twice he had a few words to say, and he endeavored in saying them to give the impression that he, like Ned, had dismissed the incident of the game which had so nearly led to a personal encounter in the Wyndham gymnasium. But Shultz was no diplomat; subterfuge to him was a most difficult thing.
The result of the game had been telephoned to Oakdale, and the boys were welcomed with cheers as the buckboard rolled up the main street toward Hyde’s livery stable. At the stable they piled out with their bats and bags, shivering a little from the raw cold of the spring evening, which had crept into their bones in spite of overcoats.
At the door of the stable Osgood paused a moment, and, Springer, Hooker and Cooper joining him, he was heard to say:
“See you later, fellows. Don’t forget. So long. I’m hungry as a bear, and I won’t do a thing to Mrs. Chester’s grub to-night.” Carrying the bag that contained his uniform and mitt, he swung off with a vigorous, buoyant stride, whistling cheerfully.
A few low words passed between the trio left behind, after which they dispersed in starting for their various homes.
Jack Nelson was not the only one to perceive something mysterious in the action of these fellows; Sleuth Piper’s eyes and ears were wide open. When Shultz had likewise departed Nelson spoke to Grant.