[CHAPTER IV]
GERALD IN GRIEF
Yardley Hall School[1] stands on a small plateau about a half-mile from the shore, and commanding a broad view, of Long Island Sound, about half way between Newport and New Haven. The Wissining River, from which small stream the tiny village takes its name, curves around the back of the school grounds, separating them from the wide expanse of Meeker’s Marsh, flows beside the village, and empties into the Sound. Across the Wissining lies Greenburg, a considerable manufacturing town, and beyond Greenburg and some two miles from the water is located Yardley’s time-honored rival, Broadwood Academy.
[1] Readers who desire a more detailed description of Yardley Hall School are referred to Chapter V of Forward Pass, the preceding story in this series.
There are six buildings at Yardley, most of them quite modern; the school is not old, as New England schools go, having been founded by Doctor Tobias Hewitt in 1870. There is Oxford Hall, containing the Office, the Principal’s living rooms, laboratories, recitation rooms, library, assembly hall, and the rooms of the rival societies, Oxford and Cambridge. Oxford Hall is one of the older buildings. The other is Whitson, which elbows it on the East and which contains the dining-room, or commons as it is called, on the first floor, and dormitories above. Clarke is a dormitory entirely, as are Dudley and Merle, the latter being reserved for the boys of the Preparatory Class. The Kingdon Gymnasium completes the list of buildings if one excepts the heating plant and the boat house.
From the back of the gymnasium the ground slopes down slowly to the tennis courts, the athletic field and the river. Here, too, but further upstream is the golf links, a nine hole course that is well maintained and well patronized. In front of Oxford Hall is an expanse of lawn known as The Prospect. From this a flight of steps leads to the lower ground and joins a path which crosses the railroad cut by a rustic bridge and leads to the woods beyond. Through these various paths wind deviously to the beach and the Sound. Between the woods, which are school property, and at the mouth of the river, lies the Pennimore estate, eight acres of perfectly kept lawn and grove and shrubbery, with a long stone pier running out into the water for the accommodation of the “Steamship King’s” big yacht on which, in the summer time, he makes his trips to and from New York.
From the upper floors of the Yardley buildings one may see for miles up and down the Sound, and even, on clear days, catch a glimpse of Montauk Point across the water. It would, I think, be difficult to find a finer site for a school than that occupied by Yardley. Although still under forty years of age, Yardley Hall has won a name for itself in a part of the country where famous schools are many, and you will never be able to persuade a Yardley man to acknowledge that any other school approaches it in excellence. As for Broadwood—well, I never could do justice to a Yardley man’s opinion of that institution!
On an afternoon about a week subsequent to the opening of the winter term Dan dropped in at Number 7 Dudley. The bright weather continued, but there was no hint of Autumn in the air to-day. A shrill east wind charged around the corner of the building, and boys crossing the yard kept their heads down into their collars and their hands in their pockets and took short cuts across the winter turf in brazen defiance of regulations. But Number 7 was warm and cozy as Dan closed the door behind him and tossed his cap onto a chair. The steam pipes were sizzling drowsily and in the grate a bed of coals glowed warmly.
“Gee,” said Dan, “I wish we had fireplaces in Clarke.”
“You ought to be glad you haven’t,” answered Alf Loring from the window-seat. “Every time you have a fire it costs you ten cents for a hod of coal. Tom’s always kicking about the expense.”
Tom Dyer, seated at the study table writing a letter, grunted ironically without looking up.