Tom Fairfield's Schooldays: or, The Chums of Elmwood Hall

Tom was doing some rapid thinking.

“I don’t suppose you know of a good place in town; do you?” went on the other. “My name is Fitch – Jack Fitch. I’m from New York city.”

“Mine’s Tom Fairfield, from Briartown,” said our hero.

“Well, Tom Fairfield, have you been here long enough to recommend a place to room, where I can also get the eats; especially the eats, for I’m a good feeder. Know of a likely place?”

Tom’s mind was made up.

“Yes, there’s a place here,” he said.

“Here? Are you stringing me? They told me every room was taken.”

“So it is, but I have a large double one, and I was looking for a chum. So – ”

“You don’t mean you’ll take me in?” cried Jack. “Oh, end the suspense! Fireman save my child! Don’t torture me!” and he gave a good imitation of a woe-begone actor.

“I’ll be glad to have you,” said Tom, who had taken a sudden liking to Jack. “That is, if you’d really like to come. You might look at the room.”

“Say no more! Come? Of course I’ll come! Will a duck swim? But I say, you know, you don’t know much about me.”

“I’ll take a chance – if you will,” said Tom, laughing.

“All right. Then we’ll call it square. Lead on and I’ll follow. To think that, after all, I’m going to get in Opus Manor! It’s great, Fairfield!”

“Call me Tom, if you like.”

“I like. I’m Jack to you, from now on. Shake!” and he caught Tom’s hand in a firm clasp. The two looked into each other’s eyes, and what they read satisfied them. They were chums from then on.

“I’ll take you to my room —our room,” Tom corrected himself. “It’s a fine one!”

“I’m sure it must be. But do you reckon the Lord and Lady of this castle will allow me to share it with you?”

“Yes. In fact Mrs. Blackford spoke of me getting some one in with me. So that will be all right.”

“Great! Do you mind if I do a little dance? Just a few steps to show my joy?” asked Jack, and Tom perceived at once that his new friend was a jolly lad.

“Not at all,” Tom answered, and Jack gravely did a hop skip and jump on the top platform of the steps.

As he finished there came a laugh from a couple of lads passing.

“Look at the ballet lady!” mocked a voice, and Tom saw Sam Heller and Nick Johnson approaching.

“Did you like it?” asked Jack, coolly. He was not to be easily disconcerted.

“Oh, it was great!” declared Sam with a sneer. “We’ll have you in the Patchwork Club if you keep on.”

There was no mistaking the sneering tone of his voice, and Jack flushed.

“Friends of yours?” he asked Tom.

“Just the reverse. But don’t bother with them now. We can attend to them later – if we have to.”

“And I think I shall have to,” said Jack quietly, as he looked Sam full in the face. “I don’t mind fun, but I like it to come from my friends. Lead on, Tom, and, as you say, we’ll attend to those two later.”

He followed Tom, and, as they disappeared into Opus Manor there floated to them the mocking laughs of the two cronies.

CHAPTER VI

AN ANGRY PROFESSOR

“Tom, did you ever balance a water pitcher on your nose? I mean full of water. The pitcher full, that is to say, not the nose.”

“Never, and I’m not going to begin now.”

“Well, I am. Watch me. I used to be pretty good at juggling.”

“Say, you want to be careful.”

“Oh, I will be. I’ve never done it, but there must always be a first time. And, though balancing water pitchers may not be an accomplishment taught in all schools, still there may come a time when the knowledge of how to juggle one will come in handy. Here goes.”

Tom and Jack were in their room – the room our hero had decided to share with his new chum. The matron and monitor had been interviewed, and Mrs. Blackford was very glad, she said, to know that Tom was to have a companion.

“And such a nice, quiet-appearing lad as he is, too,” she confided to her husband. Alas, she did not know Jack Fitch!

“The other one seems very quiet, also,” said Mr. Blackford. “I wish all the students were like those two.”

But if he and his wife could have looked into the chums’ room at that moment, perhaps they would not have held to that opinion.

For Jack had taken the large water pitcher, and was preparing to balance it on his nose, while Tom, rather fearing how the experiment would terminate, had gotten safely out of the way in case of an accident.

“I wouldn’t do it, if I were you,” spoke Tom, though he could not help laughing at his chum’s odd notion.

“Why not?” demanded Jack.

“Well – Oh, because it might fall.”

“No reason at all, Tom. If would-be jugglers hesitated on that account there’d be no experts. Give me a hand until I get it up on my nose; will you?”

“I’d rather not.”

“Why?”

“I’m afraid it will fall.”

“Oh, pshaw! Why fear? Never mind. I’ll balance it on my chin instead of my nose. On second thought it’s a little too heavy for the nose act, and my nose is like a bear’s – it’s tender. Watch me!”

Jack carefully lifted the pitcher of water, and managed to get it on his chin. He steadied it with his two hands, bending his head back, and then, when he thought he had it where he wanted it, he lowered his palms, and the pitcher – for an instant – was balanced on his chin.

“Look!” he called to Tom, not taking his eyes from the vessel of water. “Talk about jugglers! Some class to me; eh, Tom?”

“Yes, I guess so.”

“Now bring me a chair,” requested Jack. “I’m going to do it standing on a chair.”

“You’ll never do it!” predicted Tom.

“Yes, I will. I’ll get the chair myself, then.”

This was his undoing. As long as he remained in one spot, with his head carefully held still, the pitcher did not tilt enough to upset. But, as soon as Jack moved, there was an accident.

“Look out!” yelled Tom, but his warning came too late.

Jack made a wild grab for the slipping vessel, but his hands did not grasp it in time. A moment later there was a heavy crash, pieces of china flew about the room, and a shower of water drenched the chums.

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