Anthony was quite as pleased with his news as Jack had expected him to be, and the two sat together until late that evening discussing the unexpected stroke of fortune.
“Wouldn’t be surprised if they let you play in Saturday’s game,” said Anthony. Jack laughed ruefully.
“I should,” he answered. “But it’s something to sit on the varsity bench.”
The next morning Jack dressed himself under mild excitement at the thought of making his appearance at the training-table. He had notified Mrs. Dorlon the evening before of his departure from her hospitable board and that lady had sniffed disappointedly at the notion of losing her only boarder. But Jack had no regrets for the separation. Pearson’s was only about a block from Mrs. Dorlon’s, but, nevertheless, Jack reached there several minutes late. The baseball players had been given the big dining-room on the front of the house in which last fall’s successful football team, winner of the remarkable 2—0 game with Robinson, had eaten their way to glory.
When Jack entered, the table at first glance appeared to be filled. The next moment he saw that there were three empty seats, two at the farther end of the table and one near at hand, between Gilberth and Northup. He reflected that it might look cheeky to parade the length of the room, and so, returning the nods of several of the fellows, he slipped into the chair beside Gilberth, fervently hoping that the latter would take no notice of him. Gilberth was busily recounting an adventure which had befallen him the day before while out in his automobile—he was the proud possessor of the only motor vehicle in the town of Centerport—and it is probable that he did not observe Jack’s entrance.
“It was just at that narrow stretch before you get to the blacksmith’s shop,” he was saying. “The fellow had a load of bricks. Well, he stopped, and I stopped, and we looked at each other. Finally, he called out, ‘Say, you’ll have to back to the corner, I guess. We can’t pass here.’ ‘Back nothing,’ I said. ‘These things aren’t taught to back.’ ‘They ain’t?’ said he. ‘But you don’t expect that I’m going to back with this load on, do you?’ ‘It’s a good deal to expect,’ I answered, looking sorry, ‘but if you don’t, we’re likely to stay here until Christmas.’ You’d ought to have heard him swear! It was as good as a circus! Well——”
“How are you, Weatherby?” asked Joe Perkins at that moment.
As Jack replied, Gilberth turned and saw him. Stopping short in his narrative, he silently gathered up his plate, cup, and saucer, and pushing back his chair, arose and walked around the table to one of the other empty seats. The talk died out abruptly, and the fellows watched the proceedings in dead silence. Gilberth’s action had taken Jack completely by surprise, and for a moment he could only stare amazedly. Then, as the full force of the insult struck him, the color flooded his cheeks until they burned like fire. His eyes, avoiding the faces across the board, fell upon the sympathetic countenance of the captain, and it was the look of concern he found there that upset him. The tears rushed into his eyes and the hand on the table trembled. He put it in his lap, where it clenched its fellow desperately, and stared miserably at the white cloth. Suddenly upon the uncomfortable silence a voice broke calmly. Gilberth, having settled himself in his new seat, was going on with his story, just as though there had been no interruption.
“After he’d called me everything he could think of,” he continued, “he got down and started to back. It took him ten minutes to get to the blacksmith shop, and maybe he wasn’t mad! After I got by him, I gave him a little exhibition, free of charge. I backed the machine all over the place, and pretty nearly stood it on end. You ought to have seen his eyes; they almost popped out of his head. And just when he was beginning to recover his voice, I waved good-by to him, and lit out. Funniest thing you ever saw!”
One or two of his audience laughed half-heartedly, but the most looked gravely disgusted.