Anthony produced his brier pipe and began to smoke.
“Bother you much to-day, did they?” he asked.
“Some. I can stand it, I suppose.”
“They’ll get tired pretty soon and forget it,” said the other kindly. “Keep your hand on the tiller, take a couple of reefs in your temper, and watch out. There’s your supper bell.”
“Yes, I must wash up. Are you going to be busy to-night?”
“Not to hurt. Come in and bring your knitting.”
“I will,” said Jack gratefully.
The growing friendship with the new lodger was the one bright feature in Jack’s existence at this time, and during the next few weeks he frequently found himself viewing with something that was almost equanimity the occurrence at the river and its results, since among the latter was his acquaintance with Anthony Tidball. Anthony had hosts of acquaintances, but few friends; friends, he declared, were too expensive. But he adopted Jack during the first week of their acquaintance, and at once became guardian, mentor, and big brother all rolled into one. Jack went to him with his troubles—and he had a good many in those days—and listened to his advice, and generally acted upon it. It was a new and delightful experience to the younger boy to have a chum, and he made the most of it, resorting to Anthony’s room whenever he wanted society, and interrupting the junior’s studying in a way that would have summoned a remonstrance from any one save the good-hearted victim. Anthony always laid aside his books and pens, filled his pipe, took one foot into his lap, and listened or talked with unfailing good nature. And after Jack had taken himself off, Anthony would discard his pipe and buckle down to work in a mighty effort to make up for lost time, not infrequently sitting with the gas-stove between his knees long after the village clock had struck twelve, and every one else in the house was fast asleep.
Sometimes they took walks together, for both were fond of being outdoors, and it became a common thing to see the tall, awkward junior striding alongside the freshman and leaning down near-sightedly to catch his words. For a while the college world wondered and exclaimed. Tidball was a person of vast importance, a queer, quiet, serious sort of fellow, but a master at study and debate, a man whose counsels were asked for and hearkened to with deep respect, and in general opinion a person who would be heard from in no uncertain way in the future. Hence, when the college saw that Tidball had taken up Weatherby, the college began to suspect that it had very possibly been overhasty in its judgment of the latter youth. Indications of this began to be apparent even to Jack; fellows were less uneasy when lack of other seats made it necessary for them to sit beside him at Chapel or at recitations; several times he was greeted by name, rather shamefacedly to be sure, by members of his own class; and baseball practise became less of an ordeal for him, since the candidates generally showed a disposition to recognize his existence and speak him fair. But if these condescending ones looked for evidences of gratitude from Jack they were doomed to disappointment. He returned greetings politely but without cordiality, and made not the least move toward grasping the hand of fellowship so hesitatingly and doubtingly advanced.