“They aren’t proud of him,” answered Dan. “They’re proud of getting him; proud of beating Broadwood.”
“Well, that’s a commendable pride,” said Alf with a yawn. “The best way to do, as Brother Herb said the other day, is to just let him fight it out alone. If the School finds you sticking up for him too much they’ll take more of a grudge than ever to him.”
“Oh, I’m letting him do his own fighting right enough. So much so that Gerald thinks I’ve gone back on him, and looks at me pathetically when he thinks I don’t see him. Makes me feel sort of like a brute, you know. He’s been a bit homesick, too, I guess, although he hasn’t said anything about it.”
“Well, that’s promising,” said Alf. “Shows he isn’t a cry-baby. Does he know anyone yet?”
“I don’t think so; except you fellows. It’ll take him time, I suppose.”
“Bring him around here whenever you want to,” said Tom. “I don’t mind him. I know what it’s like to be homesick and out of it myself.”
“You!” exclaimed Dan.
“Sure! Don’t you think I’ve got any feelings? I went to a boarding school for two years before I struck Yardley; one of those motherly places where they advertise a nice home life for the kids. The first month I was there I thought I’d die. Lonesome? Gosh, that isn’t any word for it! I was sort of quiet and shy, I guess, and the fellows thought I was stuck-up and left me pretty much alone except when they picked on me.”
“Did you get over it?” asked Dan.
“Had to. I stood it until I couldn’t have stayed there any longer and then I picked out the biggest fellow in my class and put it up to him. ‘I’ve been here a whole month,’ I told him, ‘and you fellows haven’t spoken decently to me yet.’ (I was only thirteen and was half crying.) ‘You’ve either got to take some notice of me,’ I said, ‘or fight, and I don’t care which it is.’ The chap looked at me in a funny sort of way for a minute, and then he laughed and clapped me on the shoulder. ‘Fight!’ he said. ‘Why, I don’t want to fight you, kid. You’re all right. You come along with me.’”