CHAPTER III
“WESTCOTT’S”
“And this is Rodney Merrill!” exclaimed Mrs. Westcott, beaming upon him as she swept into the parlor with rustling skirts. “I’m so glad to see you! And how nice to get here early! Doctor Farron has told me all about you, my dear, dear boy, and we’re going to make you so happy here at our wonderful school, so very happy!”
And Mrs. Westcott, shaking hands, beamed harder than ever. She was a tall, thin woman with prominent features and a dark blue silk gown that rustled. It was in that order that Rodney noted those particulars. Her face was kindly if not very attractive, and her voice quite pleasant.
“You had a comfortable journey, I hope? Won’t you sit down a moment, Rodney? This is our parlor. We meet here in the evenings and have such pleasant, homelike times. One or two of my boys sing very nicely.” Mrs. Westcott sank rustling into a chair, folded her thin hands in her lap and beamed. “The Doctor said you were fifteen. That is right, I presume? Yes. And you’re to be a First Form boy? Yes. Isn’t that splendid? I hope you will like us all very much. I have such a fine family this year, such dear, dear boys! Perhaps you’d like to go up and see your room? Your trunk and bag came and are awaiting you upstairs. This way, if you please, Rodney.”
And Rodney, who had just seated himself uncomfortably on the edge of a chair, arose and followed. The room, he had to acknowledge to himself, was really rather jolly. It was at the back of the house but had windows on two sides, each of which looked out upon the campus. It was very nearly square and of good size. The furnishings were neither elaborate nor particularly new, but there was a generous study table covered with green baize—interestingly adorned with cabalistic marks and ink stains—a sufficiency of chairs, two single white-enamelled beds, two tall and narrow chiffoniers, and a bench which, evidently of home manufacture, stood under the side window and did duty as a window-seat. The floor was uncarpeted, but rugs, the kind that are woven of old carpets, lay about the floor. Everything was immaculately neat and clean. There was something about Mrs. Westcott that forbade the thought of dust or grime.
The walls were painted a light tan, and the woodwork about the room was of varnished pine. The effect, with the rugs, whose predominant color was brick-red, was decidedly cheerful. There were no pictures—Rodney learned that denizens of the Westcott Cottage were not allowed to hang anything on the walls—but the back of one of the chiffoniers held a number of photographs.
“This will be your side of the room,” announced Mrs. Westcott. “When you have unpacked your trunk I will show you where to put it in the storeroom. In the closet”—Mrs. Westcott swung open the door—“you will use the seven hooks to the left and half the shelf. Clothes that are not in present demand should be kept in your trunk. You will be able to get to it whenever you like. We have no washstands in the room as the boys use the bathroom, which is just across the hall, you see. In the coat-closet downstairs you will find blacking and brushes for shoes. I hope you will keep your shoes looking nice. I am very particular about that. We have a regular bathroom schedule in the morning. Each boy is allowed ten minutes by the clock. Your time will be from seven-twenty to seven-thirty. You will find the schedule on the door. That is all for now.”
Mrs. Westcott, who had delivered the foregoing in the manner of one repeating a well-learned lesson, paused for breath.
“Who’s the other chap in here?” asked Rodney, who, hands in pockets, was still examining his quarters.
“Your roommate,” said Mrs. Westcott, beaming again, “is Phineas Kittson. Such a dear boy! You’ll like him, I know. He is a year older than you, and in the Second Form. I hope you will be great friends. Phineas is—” Mrs. Westcott paused and seemed searching for just the right word. Finally, “so interesting!” she ended triumphantly. “Not exactly like my other boys, you know, rather—rather exceptional. We all expect great things from Phineas some day. He has such a—a remarkable mind! Now perhaps you’d like to unpack and arrange your things. The rest of my boys will be along very shortly. Two have come already, but they’ve gone out. If you want anything, Rodney, you’ll find me downstairs. Make yourself at home, my dear boy.”