The second team was to go out of business on Thursday, and several members of it were eager to end the season with a banquet. Freer and Saunders dropped in on Steve and Tom Sunday afternoon to talk it over and win their support. It was a nasty day, rainy and blowy and cold, and most of the fellows were huddling indoors around the radiators. Steve and Tom, on opposite sides of the table, were chewing the ends of their pens and trying to write their Sunday letters when the visitors came. Steve was studiedly haughty, as, to his mind, became one who was unjustly suspected of dishonesty. The visitors seemed puzzled by his manner and presently addressed themselves almost entirely to Tom, who, anxious to atone for his room-mate's churlishness, was nervously affable and unnaturally enthusiastic.
"We don't see," explained Saunders, "why we shouldn't be allowed to have a banquet after we quit training. We deserve it. We've done as much, in a way, as the 'varsity fellows to win from Claflin. We've been the goats all the season and it seems to me we ought to get something out of it. What we want to do is to go to Josh and get him to give us permission to have a blow-out in the village Thursday night."
"Or here," supplemented Freer, "if he won't let us go to the village. What do you fellows think?"
"I think it's a good scheme," answered Tom. "And we might get one over on the 'varsity, too. I mean we'd have our banquet and lots of fun whether we won from Claflin or not, while the 'varsity, if it loses the game, doesn't enjoy its banquet very much, I guess."
"Well, will you fellows come around to Brownell's room to-night after supper? Al is willing enough, but, being captain, he doesn't want to start the thing himself. We're going to see all the fellows this afternoon and then have a sort of a meeting this evening about eight. You'll come, Edwards?"
"Yes, thanks."
"All right. Come on, Jimmy. We've got several of the fellows to see yet."
"There wouldn't be very many of us, would there?" asked Tom. "Now that Robey has pinched Thursby there's only about fifteen left on the team."
"Sixteen, but we thought we'd get Robey to come if he would, and 'Boots,' of course, and maybe Danny. That would make nineteen in all."
"Where would you have it? Is there a hotel in the village?"
"Not exactly, but there's a sort of a boarding-house there; 'Larch Villa,' they call it. They'd look after us all right. They've got a fine big dining-room which we could have all to ourselves. We haven't talked price with them yet, but Al says we could probably get a good feed for about a dollar and a half apiece. That wouldn't be so much, eh?"
"Cheap, I'd call it," said Freer.
"We'd have beefsteak and things like that, you know," continued Saunders enthusiastically, "things that are filling. No froth and whipped cream, you know! And lots of gingerale!"
"Sounds good," laughed Tom. "I wish it was to-night. Do you think Mr. Fernald will let us?"
"I don't see why not. I spoke to Mr. Conklin about it and he said he would favour it if Josh came to him about it. If he won't let us go to the village, we thought maybe he'd let us have our feed here after the regular supper, if we paid for it ourselves. Well, you fellows show up about eight. Don't forget, because we want to get the whole bunch there and talk it all over and appoint a committee to see Josh."
Tom was silent for a minute after the visitors had departed. Then, hesitatingly, "Steve," he said, "what's the good of acting like that with fellows?"
"Like what?" asked Steve.
"You know well enough. Freezing up and talking as if you had a mouthful of icicles. You might be—be decently polite when fellows come in. Freer is a dandy chap, and Saunders is all right, too. But you treated them as if they were—were a couple of cut-throats."
"I wasn't impolite," denied Steve. "As long as those fellows choose to think what they do about me, you can't expect me to slop over with them."
"You haven't any way of knowing what they think about you," said Tom vigorously. "You take it for granted that every fellow in school believes that yarn of Sawyer's. I don't suppose a dozen fellows ever gave it a second thought."
"I know better. Don't you suppose I can tell? Almost every chap I know treats me differently now. Even—even Roy—and Harry—act as if they'd rather not be seen with me!"
"Oh, piffle!" exclaimed Tom indignantly. "That's a rotten thing to say, Steve! Why, you might as well say that I believe the yarn!"
"You?" Steve laughed meaningly. "You wouldn't be likely to."
"Then neither would Roy or Harry. They haven't known you as long as I have, but they know you wouldn't do a thing like that."
"I don't see why not," replied Steve stubbornly. "The book was found on this table. And Sawyer says he saw me with it. I guess it would be natural for them to believe what Sawyer says."
"They don't, though, as I happen to know," replied Tom stoutly. "Even if you did bring the book up here, that doesn't mean that you were going to—to use it. What really happened, I suppose, was that you took it up without thinking and didn't realise you had it when you came back."
Steve stared at him incredulously. "Well, of all the cheek!" he gasped.
"What do you mean?" asked Tom.
"I mean that that's a fine thing for you to get off," answered Steve indignantly. "You'll be saying next that you saw me bring the book in here that night!"
"I didn't, but—hang it, Steve, the thing was here! You told me so yourself. I thought you confessed that you brought it up without knowing."
"Oh, cut it," said Steve wearily. "I'm willing to be decent about it, Tom, but I don't want to listen to drivel like that."
"Drivel?" repeated the other, puzzled. "Say, what's the matter with you, anyway, Steve? I don't say you meant to cheat with the old book; I know mighty well you didn't; I told Telford so and convinced him of it, too; but I don't see why you need to get so hot under the collar when I—when I simply remind you that you did bring the book up here!"
"So I brought it up, did I?" asked Steve with an ugly laugh.
"Well, didn't you? Who did, then? You know well enough I didn't."
"Do I? How do I know it? Look here, Tom, we might as well have a show-down right now. I did not bring that blue-book into this room. I did not take it out of 'Horace's'. But 'Horace' found it on this table, poked under a pile of books. Now, then, what do you know about it?"
Tom stared in wide-eyed amazement for a moment. "You—you mean to say you think I did it!" he gasped finally.
Steve shrugged his shoulders.
"But—but you were here when I came back from downstairs, Steve! You saw that I didn't have it!"
"I didn't see anything of the sort. I didn't notice whether you had anything in your hands when you came in. Why should I? You might have slipped it under your coat. There's no use trying that game, Tom."
"Then why—why did you tell 'Horace' you took the book yourself if you knew you didn't?"
"Because one of us must have, you idiot."
"Oh, I see," answered Tom thoughtfully. "You wanted to keep me out of it, eh? Look here, Steve, what would I want with Upton's composition? My own was written two days before."
Steve shrugged his shoulders again impatiently. "That puzzled me. I didn't know. You did say afterwards, though, that your own comp. was pretty rotten. I didn't know but what–"
"You have a fine opinion of me, haven't you?" asked Tom bitterly. "You've known me ever since we were kids at kindergarten and you think that of me! Thanks, Steve!"
"Well, what–"
"Now you hold on! I'm going to tell you something." Tom was on his feet now, his hands on the edge of the table, his gaze bent sternly on his chum who was seated across the littered surface. "I didn't even see that blue-book of Upton's. I'll swear it wasn't on Mr. Daley's table when I went down there. I know nothing of how it got into this room. I tell you this on my word of honour, Steve. Do you believe me?"
Steve's gaze met Tom's troubledly, then shifted. "Oh, if you say so, I suppose I'll have to. But if you didn't bring the book up here–"
"That means you don't believe me," said Tom quietly. "Very well. Now, one more thing, Steve." Tom's eyes were blazing now, though his face was white. "Don't you speak to me unless you have to from now on, until you come to me and tell me that you believe what I've told you!"
"But, Tom, you can see yourself that it's mighty queer! If you–"
"You heard what I said! Perhaps you think I owe you something for trying to shield me from Mr. Daley. I don't, though. When you set me down for a cheat you more than squared that account. That's all. After this I don't want you to speak to me."