Nid and Nod

by Ralph Henry Barbour

When supper-time came he descended alone to the dining-hall. Laurie had not returned to the room. Laurie arrived a few minutes late, with Kewpie, and took the seat at Ned’s left in silence. He had put talc powder over the abrasion on his cheek-bone, and at a little distance it would not have been noticed. Nearer, however, the lump was plainly visible and seemed to be still swelling. Ned caught a glimpse of it from the corner of his eye, but his irritation still continued, and he offered no comment.

After supper both boys returned to No. 16, although not together, and for two hours occupied opposite sides of the table, and crammed for their last examination, which was due at ten to-morrow. Neither spoke once during the evening. At nine Laurie closed his books and went out. Half an hour later Ned undressed and went to bed. Sleep didn’t come readily, for there was to-day’s examination to worry about, and to-morrow’s, too, for he hadn’t made much of that two hours of preparation, he feared; and then there was this silly quarrel with Laurie. He guessed he had been as much to blame as his brother, but there was no sense in any one’s getting mad the way Laurie had. When Laurie was ready to make friends, why, he’d be ready, too, but that silly goop needn’t expect him to lick his shoes! No, sir, if Laurie wanted to make up he could jolly well say so!

Sleep did come at last, and when he awoke it seemed hours later. The room was in black darkness, but the squares of the wide open windows were slightly grayer. What had awakened him he at first didn’t know. Then his gaze caught a darker something against the gray-black of the nearer casement opening, something that scuffled on the stone ledge and grew larger as he wondered and watched. He opened his mouth to speak, and then remembered that he and Laurie were at outs. The form disappeared from sight, and footsteps went softly across the boards, were muffled on the rug, and sounded again by the door. [The door was opened, and] for a moment Ned mentally pictured [the boy peering] anxiously out [into the dim hall]. Then the door closed again, and after a short silence Laurie’s bed creaked. To prove to the other that his return had not been made unknown, Ned sat up in the blackness and thumped his pillow, striving to express disapprobation in the thumps. Across the room the faint stirrings ceased, and silence reigned again.

Ned smiled grimly. Laurie had probably thought that by being so quiet he could get in without his brother’s knowing it, but he had shown him! Then Ned’s satisfaction faded. What the dickens had Laurie been doing out at this time of night? It must be twelve, or even later! If he had been up to mischief—but of course he had; a fellow didn’t climb into his room by the window unless he had something to hide. Even being out after ten o’clock was a punishable offense! Ned began to worry. Suppose some one had seen Laurie. Why had Laurie gone to the door and listened unless he had suspected some one of having seen him? The idiot! The chump! The—

Over his head he heard a board creak. He listened. The sound reached him again. In Elk Thurston’s room some one was up, too. Or had he imagined it? All was quiet now. Was it possible that Laurie and Elk had been settling their score? Surely not at this time of night. And yet— From across the room came the unmistakable sounds of deep and regular breathing. Laurie was asleep beyond a doubt! Ned frowned disgustedly. Here he was worrying himself about a silly coot that was fast asleep! He poked his head resolutely into his pillow. All right! He guessed he could do that, too! And presently he did.

In the morning Ned waited for Laurie to break the ice, but Laurie didn’t. Laurie went about his task of dressing in silence. There was a sort of stern look in his face in place of the sullen expression of last evening, and more than once Ned caught him looking across in an oddly speculative way. The last time Ned caught him at it he began to feel uneasy, and he wanted very much to ask what Laurie meant by it. It was almost as if Laurie had caught him at something, instead of its being just the other way about! But he was too stubborn to speak first, and they went out of the room with the silence still unbroken.

At breakfast, Mr. Brock, at whose table they sat, made the disquieting announcement that Edward and Laurence Turner were wanted at the Doctor’s study at 8:30. Involuntarily the gaze of the two boys met swiftly. Each thought at once of examinations, although further consideration told them that it was still too soon for any shortcomings of theirs to reach the principal.

Although they had entered the dining-hall separately, now a common uneasiness took them together to the Doctor’s, albeit in silence. They were asked to be seated, which they accepted as a favorable sign, but there was, nevertheless, something unsympathetic in Dr. Hillman’s countenance. The latter swung himself around in his chair and faced them, his head thrust forward a little because of a near-sightedness not wholly corrected by his spectacles. And then Laurie observed that the Doctor was gazing intently at a point just under his left eye, and told himself that the summons was explained. He was, though, still wondering why Ned had been included in the party when the Doctor spoke.

“Laurence,” he asked, “how did you come by that contusion?”

Laurie hesitated, then answered, “I was having a—a little bout with one of the fellows and he struck me, sir.”