The Jester of St. Timothy's Part 1

The Jester of St. Timothy's.

by Arthur Stanwood Pier.

CHAPTER I

IRVING SETS FORTH ON HIS ADVENTURE

In the post-office of Beasley's general store Irving Upton was eagerly sorting the mail. His eagerness at that task had not been abated by the repeated, the daily disappointments which it had caused him. During the whole summer month for which he had now been in attendance as Mr.

Beasley's clerk, the arrival of the mail had const.i.tuted his chief interest. And because that for which he had been hoping had failed to come, his thin face had grown more worried, and the brooding look was more constantly in his eyes.

This afternoon his hand paused; he looked at the superscription on an envelope unbelievingly. The letter came from St. Timothy's School and was addressed to him. He finished distributing the other letters among the boxes, for people were waiting outside the part.i.tion; then he opened the envelope and read the type-written enclosure. A flush crept up over his cheeks, over his forehead; when he raised his eyes, the brooding look was no longer in them, but a quiet happiness instead, and his lips, which had so long been troubled, were smoothed out in a faint, contented smile. He read the letter a second time, then put it in his pocket, and stepped round behind the counter to sell five cents' worth of pink gumdrops to little Abby Lawson.

When she had gone and the callers after mail had been satisfied, Irving sat down at the table in the back of the store. He read the letter again and mused over it for a few moments contentedly; then, with it lying open before him, he proceeded to write an answer.

After finis.h.i.+ng that, he drew from his pocket some papers-French exercises, done in a scrawling, unformed hand.

It was the noon hour, when the people of the village were all eating their dinners; Mr. Beasley had gone home, and Irving was undisturbed.

He helped himself to the crackers and dried beef which were his luncheon perquisites, and with these at his elbow and nibbling them from time to time he set about correcting his brother's French.

He sighed in spite of the happiness which was pervading him; would Lawrence always go on confusing some of the forms of _etre_ and _avoir_?

Would he never learn to know the difference between _ils ont_ and _ils sont_?

Irving made his corrections in a neat, pretty little hand, which of itself seemed to reprove the student's awkward scrawl. He turned then to his own studies, which he was pursuing in a tattered volume of Blackstone's Commentaries on the English Common Law. He did not get on very fast with this book, and sometimes he wondered what bearing it could have on the practice of the law in Ohio at the present time. But he had been advised to familiarize himself with the work in the interval before he should enter a law school-an interval of such doubtful length!

Mr. Beasley's entrance caused him to look up.

"I shall be leaving you in less than a month now, Mr. Beasley," he said.

"Got a job to teach, have you?" asked the storekeeper.

"Yes-at St. Timothy's School."

"Where may that be?"

"Up in New Hamps.h.i.+re."

"Quite a ways off. But I suppose you don't mind that much-having been away to college."

"No, I think I'll like it. Besides,-now Lawrence will be able to go to college this fall, and he and I will be pretty near each other. We'll be able to spend our holidays together. I think it's fine."

"It does sound so," agreed Mr. Beasley. "Well, I'll be sorry to lose you, Irving. The folks all like to have you wait on 'em; you're so polite and tidy. But I know clerking in a country store ain't much of a job for a college graduate, and I'm glad you've found something better."

"I'm glad if I've been of any use to you," replied Irving. "I know you didn't expect I would be when you took me in. And your giving me this chance has meant that I could stay on here and tutor Lawrence this summer and at the same time pay all my living expenses. It's been more of a help than you know-to Lawrence as well as to me."

"You're both good boys," said Mr. Beasley. "But it seems like you're too shy and quiet ever to make much of a lawyer, Irving-or a teacher," he added, in candid criticism.

Irving blushed. "Maybe I'll get over that in time, Mr. Beasley."

"You had better," observed the storekeeper. "It's of no manner of use to anybody-not a particle. Lawrence, now, is different."

Yes, Lawrence was different; the fact impressed itself that evening on Irving when his brother came home from the haying field with his uncle.

Lawrence was big and ruddy and laughing; Irving was slight and delicate and grave. The two boys went together to their room to make themselves ready for supper.

"We finished the north meadow to-day," said Lawrence,-"the whole of it.

So don't blame me if I go to sleep over French verbs this evening."

"I'll tell you something that will wake you up," Irving replied. "I'm going to teach at St. Timothy's School-in New Hamps.h.i.+re. So your going to college is sure, and we'll be only a couple of hours apart."

"Oh, Irv!" In Lawrence's exclamation there was more expressiveness, more joy, than in all his brother's carefully restrained statement. "Oh, Irv!

Isn't it splendid! I think you're the finest thing-!" Lawrence grasped Irving's hand and at the same time began thumping him on the back. Then he opened the door and shouted down the stairs.

"Uncle Bob! Aunt Ann! Irv has some great news to-night."

Mrs. Upton put her head out into the hall; she was setting the table and held a plate of bread.

"What is it, Irv? Have you-have you had a letter?"

There was an anxious, almost a regretful note in her voice.

"Yes," said Irving. "I'll tell you about it when I come down."

At the supper table he expounded all the details. Like Mr. Beasley, his uncle and his aunt had never heard of St. Timothy's School. Irving was able to enlighten them. At college he had become familiar with its reputation; it was one of the big preparatory schools in which the position of teacher had seemed to him desirable almost beyond the hope of attainment.

He recited the terms which had been offered and which he had accepted: nine hundred dollars salary the first year, with lodging, board, was.h.i.+ng all provided-so that really it was the equivalent of fourteen or fifteen hundred dollars a year. And then there would be the three months'

vacation, in which he could prosecute his law studies and earn additional money.

"Sounds good," said Mr. Upton.

"Of course I'm very glad," said Mrs. Upton. "But how we shall miss you boys! I've got used to having Irving away,-but to be without Lawrence, too-"

"Yes," said her husband with a twinkle in his eyes, "we certainly shall miss Lawrence-especially in haying time. I'm glad you didn't get this news till most of the hay crop was in. No more farming for you this year, Lawrence."

"Why, but there's all the south meadow uncut-"

"I'll handle that. As long as there was so much doubt as to whether you'd be able to go to college or not, I felt that you might be making yourself useful first of all and studying only in the odd moments. Now it's different; you've got to settle down to hard study and nothing else. And Irving had better devote himself entirely to you, and leave Mr. Beasley to struggle along without any college help."

"I don't believe he'll miss me very much," Irving admitted. "And you're right, Uncle Bob; I can accomplish a great deal more working with Lawrence this next month. I ought to be able to get him entered in regular standing."

"If I can do that," cried Lawrence, "perhaps I'll be able to earn my way as Irv did-tutoring and so on-and not have to call on you or him for any help."

"What on earth should I do with nine hundred a year?" Irving exclaimed.

"Save it for your law school fund," said Lawrence.

Irving shrugged his shoulders grandly. "Oh, I can earn money."

Lawrence gave him an affectionate push. "Tut!" he said. "Be good to yourself once in a while."