[CHAPTER III]
DAN BEGINS RIGHT
“Well, son,” said Mr. Pennimore, “I guess everything’s all right. You’ve got a nice, clean, pleasant room here and Dan to keep you from getting homesick.”
“They don’t put very much in the rooms, do they?” asked Gerald Pennimore a trifle dubiously.
Supper was over and Mr. Pennimore and the two boys, after a visit to the Office, had come up to 28 Clarke. Mr. Pennimore was returning to New York on the nine-thirty-eight train, in spite of the fact that Doctor Hewitt, the Principal, had pressed him to spend the night at Yardley.
“Well, I don’t see but what you have everything that you need,” replied Gerald’s father, adding with a smile, “You must remember, son, that you’re here to study and work.”
Mr. John T. Pennimore was about fifty-two or -three years of age, rather under than above average height, a very well-bred looking gentleman with a kind if somewhat thoughtful face. His eyes were very black, very bright and keen. His hair was just a little grizzled at the temples, and he wore a dark beard, trimmed short, and a mustache. His manners were charming and his voice pleasant. Dan had never seen Mr. Pennimore when he was not immaculately dressed. He always looked, to use a familiar expression, as though he had just stepped out of a band-box.
The resemblance between father and son was not yet very striking. What there was depended more on tricks of voice, and little mannerisms than on looks, although when Gerald laughed the resemblance was slightly apparent. Gerald promised to grow into a larger man than his father, although just at present he appeared far from robust. He was fourteen years old, but scarcely looked it. He was slightly built, and his very blue eyes, pink and white skin, and corn-colored hair gave him a somewhat girlish appearance which of late had been troubling him a good deal. For Gerald admired strength and virility, and his greatest ambition was to make a name for himself on the athletic field, an ambition that, judging from present indications, seemed scarcely likely to be attained.
Gerald’s mother had died so soon after his birth that he couldn’t recall her at all. Since then he had been in charge of nurses and tutors, had been given well-nigh everything he wanted and had been as carefully guarded as the heir-apparent of a throne. Mr. Pennimore had tried hard not to spoil him, but Gerald was an only child and it would have been strange indeed if Mr. Pennimore had been quite successful in his effort. Dan and Gerald had known each other only three months but were already quite close friends. Gerald’s liking for the older boy was closely akin to hero worship; and the day on which he had learned that he was to go to Yardley Hall School and room with Dan was one of the happiest of his life. On the other hand, Dan liked Gerald less for what he was than for what he believed he was capable of being. The boy had never had a fair chance, he thought, and it was no wonder that he was a trifle selfish and self-centered. And as for his flat chest and weak muscles, why, what could you expect of a boy who had never had any real playmates and whose most violent exercise consisted of driving in carriage or automobile or pasting stamps in a stamp book! Dan believed that a couple of years at Yardley would work a change.
“Oh, I’ll have to study all right,” responded Gerald to his father’s reminder. “It’s going to be hard, I guess. But I don’t care,” he added with a shy smile at Dan. “I’d a lot rather be here than at home studying with one of those silly old tutors.”