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Secret Play

<h2>CHAPTER XVIII MR. GRAYSON IS SURPRISED</h2> Dick’s retirement from the hall took on the nature of an ovation. Many of the fellows pushed their way across to shake hands with him, to tell him “It was hot stuff, Dick!” to form a laughing, excited escort for him to the door. Louise Brent met him on the way out. “It was splendid!” she declared warmly. “I’m so glad, Dick!” Toby Sears, too, reached him before he had left the hall, and slapped him on the shoulder. “That was good plain talk, Dick, and we needed it,” he said. Dick went off in the runabout with George Cotner, while Gordon and Morris, waiting on the steps for the crowd to leave, reviewed events with much chuckling. “He did just the right thing,” said Gordon. “If he had been apologetic and tried to explain things and made promises they’d have roasted him and probably voted to take the matter to the Committee.” “Surest thing you know,” agreed Morris. “He took just the right line with ’em.” “You bet he did! He just—just edified them! And now he’s got them eating out of his hand! It was a regular stampede!” “I’ll bet Carter and Bingham and some of those others are as mad as hornets,” chuckled Morris. “It won’t do them any good, though.” “Not a bit. Dick’s got a big majority with him now. Bet you we could lose every other game except Springdale and not hear a yip out of any of them! Dick’s a wonder, Morris. He always seems to know what to do, doesn’t he?” “He certainly does. He’s what you call a born leader, Dick is. I wish this bunch would hurry up and go. It’s almost a quarter past nine, and I told Stuart to get here at half-past. I hope he doesn’t show up before the crowd gets away.” “Oh, they’ll be gone in a minute. Where is Louise?” “She and Nell have gone over to Miss Turner’s to get the key to the office. They’ll be back at half-past. I sort of wish they’d put that electric light out on the corner. If Mr. Grayson happened to go by and saw us unloading stuff——” “He’s not likely to, I guess. He lives at the other end of town. Hello, Jim. Oh, we’re just communing with Nature. It sure was some meeting. Good night!” The last of the audience left the building and presently quiet fell, broken finally by the sound of the janitor’s steps on the stairs. “That you, Owen?” called Morris. “The load’s coming in about fifteen minutes. We’d better unpack the things inside, hadn’t we? Can you leave a light here at the doorway?” “Yes,” was the reply. “I’ll leave this one goin’ and the one around the corner.” The janitor, a sturdy young Irishman, came to the door and peered out. “Who’s that with you, Mr. Brent?” he asked. “Gordon Merrick. My sister and Miss Sawin are coming in a few minutes. I guess it will take all of us to move the desk in, eh?” “A couple of us can manage it, sir. I’ve got my broom and dustpan here to clear up afterwards. There’s some one coming now, ain’t there?” “Those are the girls,” said Gordon. “What time is it?” “Nearly half-past,” answered Morris, holding the face of his watch to the dim light from the hall. “He may be a few minutes late, I suppose.” “I think I hear a wagon now,” said Gordon, as the girls joined them. But it proved to be a milkman’s cart when it came into sight. “Did you get it?” asked Morris. “Yes.” In proof, Louise held up the key. “I feel just like a conspirator,” she added, “don’t you? Have they all gone?” “Yes, and it’s a good thing we didn’t tell that we were going to put the things in here to-night. If we had we’d have had half the school messing around.” “Most of them have forgotten about it, I guess,” said Gordon. “Here he comes!” Five minutes later the wagon with its mysteriously hidden load was backed to the steps and the driver and Owen, assisted by the two boys, were carrying the load inside. They worked quickly and silently, and in a very few minutes the wagon was empty and they were removing the wrappings from the articles. At this task all took a hand and the hallway was soon littered with burlaps and excelsior and paper. Then, tiptoeing like the conspirators they felt themselves to be, they descended on the office. One of the lights was lighted and turned low, the shades were drawn and they began to move the old furniture out into the hall, from where, later, when the Principal had rescued his papers and books it was to be taken to the basement. When the carpet was up Owen applied the broom diligently. Then the refurnishing began. The new carpet, a deep-toned brown with a brown and blue border, made to fit the floor exactly from measurements taken by Miss Turner, was put in place and the big desk was set in the middle. As each piece was brought in Louise and Nell attacked it energetically with dust-clothes. The swivel-chair was put in front of the desk, the leather easy-chair—well, if it wasn’t exactly real leather it looked just like it and the distinguished salesman had given his solemn word of honor that it would wear even better than leather—was set by the windows, the filing-cabinet was set against the wall, the straight-backed chair went by the door and the new wastebasket, for fear it would not be seen, was put beside the desk rather than under it. Then books, writing pad, ink-well and such things were put in place and, finally, for just a minute, the light was turned on full that they might all see the transformation at its best. “Doesn’t everything look lovely!” breathed Nell rapturously. “You’d never know it was the same room!” said Louise. “Isn’t the desk beautiful, Gordon?” “Peachy! Everything is. I’m crazy about the rug. It will be a real privilege now to get ‘called in’ by Mr. Grayson!” “They’re fine things, they are,” declared Owen, admiringly, as he wiped off a speck of dust with the sleeve of his coat, “and it’s proud he’ll be in the mornin’!” “An’ there ain’t a scratch on anyone of ’em,” said the driver of the wagon. “I seen to that, boys.” “Er—yes,” murmured Morris, directing an inquiring look at Louise. Louise nodded vehemently and a half-dollar changed hands. “Thank you kindly, sir,” said the driver. “Is that all I can do for you?” “That’s all, thanks,” replied Louise. “Please tell Mr. Stuart we are very much obliged to him for doing everything so nicely.” The man took his departure and the others, although loath to do so, took a final look at the new splendor, turned out the light, locked the door and departed. Owen was presented with a crisp dollar bill before they left, however, and proceeded with his task of clearing up most cheerfully. Still elatedly discussing the success of the conspiracy, they made their way to Miss Turner’s, nearby, left the key and started homeward along Troutman Street. But at G Street Morris called a halt. “It’s only a quarter to eleven,” he said, “and Castle’s is still open. What do you say if we walk over there and celebrate?” “It’s awfully late,” murmured Louise doubtfully, “and I don’t believe mama would like it.” But Nell Sawin declared that she didn’t care whether folks liked it or not; she was going! “This is an occasion,” she said, “and it simply demands a celebration. I’ll go whether the rest do or not, Morris!” “We’ll all go,” said Gordon. “Come along, Louise. There won’t be anyone there at this time of night.” So Louise consented and they struck across-town toward the Square. “Look here,” said Morris presently, “we ought to arrange some sort of a presentation, oughtn’t we? How’s Mr. Grayson going to know where the things came from or who gave them? I wish we had thought to ask Dick or Sears or some one to be on hand and make a sort of speech.” “Couldn’t you do it, Morris?” asked Nell. “Me? Great Scott, no!” “Then Gordon——” “Nothing doing! Thank you just the same, Nell.” “I know,” said Louise. “We’ll write on a card that the gift is made by the students and we’ll get Miss Turner to let us in there early in the morning and put it on the desk or somewhere where he will see it. Won’t that do?” “Yes,” agreed Morris. “What time does he usually show up?” “About a quarter of an hour before the bell,” said Gordon. “There’ll be plenty of time. You write it to-night, Louise, so you won’t forget it.” “Very well. ‘To Mr. Grayson, from the Students of the Clearfield High School, wishing him many happy returns of the day.’ Would that do?” “Slick,” said Morris, as they entered the drugstore. “Now, then, what are you all going to have?” There was a commendable promptness evident on the part of a large portion of the students the next morning. By eight o’clock the corridor was well filled. The girls were somewhat in the majority, for, as Gordon had surmised, many of the boys had quite forgotten that the gift to which they subscribed was to be presented to-day. Miss Turner arrived soon after eight and smilingly fitted the key to the office door. Louise slipped in and placed the card she had written on the front of the desk, propping it up with a stamp-box, while the others who had arrived early to enjoy Mr. Grayson’s surprise crowded about the doorway and exclaimed at what they saw. All were not only delighted but quite astonished at the beauty of the furnishings. “I never supposed they’d be so lovely!” exclaimed one girl as she tiptoed to see over the shoulders of those in front of her. “Aren’t they just beautiful, Miss Turner?” And Miss Turner, standing guard at the door, smilingly agreed. “It’s too bad,” said Morris, “that we couldn’t have got the old things out of the way. He will see them and know right off that something’s up.” “But he won’t know what,” responded Toby Sears. “Besides, if this mob stays here he won’t be able to see the old furniture. It’s about time he came, isn’t it?” It was, and to prove it a small freshman who had been detailed to watch for the Principal’s approach from the entrance, came scuttling in with the news. “He’s coming!” he shouted. “He’s coming!” Miss Turner quickly closed and locked the door and walked toward the entrance, whilst the others scuttled away from the office but lingered in the corridor, the girls doing a good deal of excited giggling and the boys trying their best to appear unconcerned. Then Mr. Grayson turned the corner and a sudden silence reigned. Since by that time nearly the entire student body was assembled, the silence was distinctly strange and uncanny, and Mr. Grayson evidently thought it so as, making his way through the crowd, he gravely bowed and returned the murmured greetings of the boys and girls. A puzzled look appeared on his face and he bent frowning glances right and left. Miss Turner intercepted him half-way along the corridor. “Oh, Mr. Grayson,” she said casually, “here’s your key.” “Thank you, thank you. Ah—is there anything wrong, Miss Turner?” “Wrong?” asked the teacher in surprised tones. “Why, no, sir.” “Oh! I see! I thought—” He viewed the expectant faces about him rather bewilderedly. “Thank you, Miss Turner. Hm!” He went on, the students crowding along the corridor behind him, and fitted the key to the lock. The throng hid the old furniture pushed against the wall beyond the door and he caught no glimpse of it. In fact, he scarcely looked that way, for he was oddly embarrassed and wanted nothing but to put his portal between him and the sea of strangely staring faces. He turned the key and the knob and quickly pushed the door open; and as quickly stepped inside. And then, as though he had collided with an invisible wall, he suddenly stood stock-still. There was an expectant hush, broken at length by a nervous giggle from some one of the girls. Those near the office door saw the Principal’s head move as his eyes swept the room. Then, his hand still on the knob, he turned, plainly bewildered, as though he suspected himself of being out of his mind, and gazed helplessly and troubledly into the eager and excited faces of the watchers. “I—I don’t understand—” he faltered. But realization came to him the next instant, for the students, no longer able to stand the suspense, broke into applause. A wave of sound swept the corridor; the clapping of hands, shouts, laughter mingled in a confused babel, through which came the piping cry of a small freshman: “Happy birthday, sir!” Mr. Grayson retreated before the outbreak, amazement, relief, embarrassment struggling for mastery. Uncertainly he laid his hat and gloves on the desk, and in the act caught sight of the card. He picked it up and read the inscription. It seemed to take him a long time. Perhaps he couldn’t see very well, for he removed his glasses, drew the silk handkerchief from a pocket and began to rub the lenses furiously. Then, pausing in that, he took up the card once more and walked to the door and through it to the corridor, the throng giving way before him and the tumult increasing as those at the far end of the corridor caught sight of him. But gradually the noise ceased, and Mr. Grayson, clearing his throat nervously, began to speak. “Young ladies and gentlemen,” he said haltingly, “I—this—” He stopped helplessly and shook his head. “I’m too surprised to—to say what I’d like to. I never guessed that—” He paused again, but what it was he had never guessed they all understood. “I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Not only for the—the wonderful gifts, but for the kindness, the—the dearness, if I may say it, of your action. It—it has affected me. That’s why you must pardon me if I don’t express myself better. I can’t find the words just now. I’m—I’m in a daze, I think! Later, after I have had time to—to look at all the beautiful things in there and to properly appreciate what you have done I will try to thank you as I should. All I can say now is that”—a smile softened the grave lines of his face—“well, that you’ve made this the happiest birthday I’ve ever had!” He bowed, tried to put his glasses in place again, failed, and literally fled into the office. And then the applause burst forth again, long and loud and continued, and Toby Sears called for “a regular cheer for Mr. Grayson, fellows, and make it good!” And it was good! And in the very middle of it the big gong clanged on the landing and, laughing and happy, the throng dispersed to the various rooms, more than one pair of eyes a little bit moist. Louise, frankly tearful, declared that she didn’t care! It had been perfectly beautiful! Later in the day, in assembly hall, Mr. Grayson thanked them again in a very nice speech, and even made them laugh a little when he described the awed condition in which he found himself amongst his marvelous new possessions, but his first expression of thanks down there in the crowded corridor had told them far more eloquently of his feelings. At recess those who had not viewed the new furnishings visited the office and Mr. Grayson held a sort of reception. The teachers, not to be entirely outdone, had brought gifts as well. There was a new dictionary, something very up-to-date and comprehensive and extraordinarily bulky, with a stand to hold it, and a big bunch of chrysanthemums on the desk. And Mr. Grayson, grave but plainly proud and delighted, exhibited each article of furniture to his callers, and dwelt on the finish and the grain of the wood and called attention to the coloring and texture of the carpet and was quite boyishly excited. Principal and pupils drew much closer together that twenty-fifth of October than they ever had been before. The girls declared that he was “a perfect dear” and the boys, less willing to express their real feelings, acknowledged one to another that “he wasn’t a bad sort, Old Grayson!” The mass-meeting and the birthday celebration seemed to clear the atmosphere wonderfully and an era of solidarity and good-feeling began at Clearfield High School that endured a long time. Simultaneously, Fortune smiled and two very satisfying events occurred. One was the decision of the Athletic Committee to devote the funds in hand to the immediate repair of the athletic field. No one ever knew for certain, but it was generally believed that Mr. Grayson brought this about. It was no secret that a meeting of the Committee was held on Thursday at his desire and that he himself made the motion and, in the discussion which followed, supported it strongly, much to the surprise of the student members. At all events, work on the fence began Monday morning and it was announced that a portion of the old stand would be demolished and replaced by a new steel-trussed structure in time for the Springdale game which was this year played in Clearfield. Later, when more money was available, another section would be erected. If this was Mr. Grayson’s way of proving his gratitude it was well appreciated by the whole school. The other event which brought satisfaction was the victory on Saturday of the Varsity Football Team over Benton School. As though to vindicate themselves and their coach, the team scored nineteen points against Benton and held that adversary helpless. Still using a mere handful of plays, none of them either novel or puzzling, Clearfield, by working together with a precision that promised fine things for the future, ripped the Benton line almost at will and presented a defense that anywhere inside the twenty-five-yard line was invulnerable. Morris Brent played through a full quarter and, although no field-goals were necessary, demonstrated his value to the backfield by excellent punting and good rushing. Clearfield went quite wild over that victory, for Benton had a big, well-trained and hard-fighting team, and had, only the week before, played Springdale to a standstill, neither side being able to score. Even the news that Springdale had overwhelmingly beaten Nickerson that afternoon failed to disturb Clearfield’s satisfaction, although it did give Dick subject for thought. Nickerson was believed to be fairly strong and Springdale had, by reason of injuries to several of her best players, gone into the fray with a line-up largely substitute. Dick waited impatiently for the Monday morning Springdale paper, and when it came could find but slight encouragement in the account of the game it contained. There was no denying that this year’s Springdale team was one to be respected. The conference that Monday evening lasted long. <hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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