After that life was hardly worth living, Ted thought. George scarcely spoke to him and the rest of his former team-mates were not much more cordial. In fact the whole school apparently viewed him as a traitor, and he felt like one. Thursday morning Dr. Morris announced that hereafter the students were not to make purchases at Plaister’s, and Ted found a certain ungenerous comfort in the shop-keeper’s misfortune. In the afternoon, while he was studying in his room—he had avoided the ball field since Monday—Hal came in with George. For some reason Hal appeared to view Ted more leniently than the other players did, perhaps because, having so nearly attained probation himself, he had sympathy for a brother offender. Hal’s greeting was almost cordial. George’s was only a grunt. Ted pretended to study, but he was really listening to the talk of the others. Presently Hal said indignantly:
“I wonder what they’ve got against Plaister, George. It’s a shame to shut down on him like that.”
“Some chap’s run up a bill, probably,” answered George indifferently. “Faculty was after him last year for giving credit.”
“Well, I’m sorry. The old codger’s mighty white, and I ought to know it if anybody should. I owed him something over twelve dollars, some of it since last year, and he came down on me hard last week and said that if I didn’t pay right up he’d go to ‘Jerry.’ He had me scared stiff, and that’s no dream! I had visions of being fired, or at least put on ‘pro,’ and so I came over here Saturday night to see if I could get some money from you. I had only about two dollars to my name. But you had gone home. Bowman offered to loan it to me”—Hal winked at Ted’s startled countenance and grinned—“but I wouldn’t take it. I tried at least a dozen other fellows, but every last one was stoney broke. I expected all day Monday to get an invitation to the Office——”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” interrupted George regretfully. “I could have fixed you up. Better let me do it now.”
“Not for anything,” laughed Hal. “You see the old chap never showed up and I had my nervous prostration for nothing. All he did do was to send me the bill Tuesday morning—receipted!”
“Receipted!”
“Yep, paid in full! Just scratched it right off his books. I suppose he thought he might as well. Afraid to get in wrong with faculty, maybe. Still, it was pretty decent of him, wasn’t it? Of course I’ll pay him as soon as I can, but he doesn’t know that.”
George agreed that it was decent indeed, but he looked somewhat puzzled. The incident didn’t tally at all with his conception of Mr. Jabed Plaister.
Saturday dawned breathlessly hot, and the game, set for two o’clock, was postponed until three. The wait was hard on the nerves of the players, and Billy Whipple, who was to play right field in place of Ted, was plainly unsettled. Ted knew of no reason why he should not enjoy the painful pleasure of watching the game, and so, when Loring, the Temple Academy pitcher, wound himself up for the first delivery, Ted was seated cross-legged under the rope behind third base with a very disconsolate expression on his perspiring countenance. To-day the consciousness of virtue failed more than ever to atone for his being out of the game. He strove to find consolation in the reflection that there was another year coming, but the attempt was a flat failure.