Nid and Nod

A bell tinkled as the door of the little blue shop opened and closed, and continued to tinkle, although decreasingly, as the stout youth who had entered turned unhesitatingly but with a kind of impressive dignity toward where in the dimmer light of the store a recently installed soda-fountain, modest of size but brave with white marble and nickel, gleamed a welcome.

In response to the summons of the bell a girl came through the door that led to the rear of the little building. As she came she fastened a long apron over the dark blue dress and sent an inquiring hand upward to the smooth brown hair. Evidently reassured, she said, “Hello,” in a friendly voice and, having established herself behind the counter, looked questioningly at the customer.

“Hello,” responded the boy. “Give me a chocolate sundae with walnuts and a slice of pineapple, please. And you might put a couple of cherries on top. Seen Nod this afternoon?”

The girl shook her head as she deposited a portion of ice-cream in a dish and pressed the nickeled disk marked “Chocolate.” “I’ve just this minute got back from school,” she replied. “Aren’t you out early to-day?”

“No recitation last hour,” the youth explained as his eyes followed her movements fascinatedly. “That all the chopped walnuts I get, Polly?”

“It certainly is when you ask for pineapple and cherries, too,” answered the girl firmly. She tucked a small spoon on the side of the alarming concoction, laid a paper napkin in front of the customer, and placed the dish beside it. “Would you like a glass of water?”

The youth paused in raising the first spoonful to his mouth and looked to see if she spoke with sarcasm. Apparently, however, she did not, and so he said, “Yes, please,” or most of it; the last of it was decidedly unintelligible, proceeding as it did from behind a mouthful of ice-cream, chocolate syrup, and cherry. When the glass of water had been added to the array before him and he had swallowed three spoonfuls of the satisfying medley, the stout youth sighed deeply, and his gaze went roaming to an appealing display of pastry beyond the girl.

“Guess I’ll have a cream-cake,” he announced. “And one of those tarts, please. What’s in ’em, Polly?”

“Raspberry jam.”

“Uh-huh. All right. Better make it two, then.”

Polly Deane eyed him severely. “Kewpie Proudtree,” she exclaimed, “you know you oughtn’t to eat all this sweet stuff!”

“Oh, what’s the difference?” demanded the youth morosely. “Gee, a fellow can’t starve all the time! Maybe I won’t go in for football next year, anyway. It’s a dog’s life. No desserts you can eat, no candy, no――”

“Well, I think that’s a very funny way for you to talk,” interrupted Polly indignantly. “After the way you played in the Farview game and everything! Why, every one said you were just wonderful, Kewpie!”

Kewpie’s gloom was momentarily dissipated, giving place to an expression of gratification. He hastily elevated a portion of ice-cream to his mouth and murmured deprecatingly, “Oh, well, but――”

“And you know perfectly well,” continued the girl, “that pastry and sweets make you fat, and Mr. Mulford won’t like it a bit, and――”

It was Kewpie’s turn to interrupt, and he did it vigorously. “What of it?” he demanded. “I don’t have to stay fat, do I? I’ve got all summer to train down again, haven’t I? Gee, Polly, what’s the use of starving all the winter and spring just to play football for a couple of months next fall? Other fellows don’t do it.”

“Why, Kewpie, you know very well that most of them do! You don’t see Ned and Laurie eating pastry here every afternoon.”

“Huh, that’s a lot different. Nod’s out for baseball, and Nid’s scared to do anything Nod doesn’t do. Why, gee, if one of those twins broke his leg the other’d go and bust his! I never saw anything so――so disgusting. Say, don’t I get those tarts?”

“Well, you certainly won’t if you talk like that about your best friends,” answered Polly crisply.

“Oh, well, I didn’t say anything,” muttered Kewpie, grinning. “Those fellows are different, and you know it. Gee, if I was on the baseball team I’d let pastry alone, too, I guess. It stands to reason. You understand. But it doesn’t make any difference to any one what I do. They wouldn’t let me play basket-ball, and when I wanted to try for goal-tend on the hockey-team Scoville said it wouldn’t be fair to the other teams to hide the net entirely. Smart Aleck! Besides, I’m only a hundred and sixty-one pounds right now.”

“That’s more than you were in the fall, I’m certain,” said Polly severely.

“Sure,” agreed Kewpie. “Gee, when I came out of the Farview game I was down to a hundred and fifty-one and a half! I guess my normal weight’s about a hundred and sixty-five,” he added comfortably. “What about those tarts and the cream-cake?”

“You may have the cream-cake and one tart, and that’s all. I oughtn’t to let you have either. Laurie says――”

“Huh, he says a lot of things,” grunted Kewpie, setting his teeth into the crisp flakiness of the tart. “And I notice that what he says is mighty important around here, too.” Kewpie smiled slyly, and Polly’s cheeks warmed slightly. “Anything Nod says or does is all right, I suppose.”

“What Laurie says is certainly a lot more important than what you say, Mr. Proudtree,” replied Polly warmly, “and――”

“Now, say,” begged Kewpie, “I didn’t mean to be fresh, honest Polly! Gee, if you’re going to call me ‘Mister Proudtree’ I won’t ever――ever――”

He couldn’t seem to decide what it was he wouldn’t ever do, and so he thrust the last of the tart into his mouth and looked hurt and reproachful. When Kewpie looked that way no one, least of all the soft-hearted Polly, could remain offended. Polly’s haughtiness vanished, and she smiled. Finally she laughed merrily, and Kewpie’s face cleared instantly.

“Kewpie,” said Polly, “you’re perfectly silly.”

“Oh, I’m just a nut,” agreed the boy cheerfully. “Well, I guess I’ll go over to the field and see what’s doing. If you see Nod tell him I’m looking for him, will you?”

Polly looked after him concernedly. Something was wrong with Kewpie. He seemed gloomy and almost――almost reckless! Of late he had rioted in sweets and the stickiest of fountain mixtures, which was not like him. She wondered if he had a secret sorrow, and decided to speak to Laurie and Ned about him.

Polly Deane was rather pretty, with an oval face not guiltless of freckles, brown hair and brown eyes and a nice smile. She was not quite sixteen years old. Polly’s mother――known to the boys of Hillman’s School as the “Widow”――kept the little blue-painted shop, and Polly, when not attending the Orstead High School, helped her. The shop occupied the front room on the ground floor. Behind it was a combined kitchen, dining and living room, and up-stairs were two sleeping chambers. Mrs. Deane could have afforded a more luxurious home, but she liked her modest business and often declared that she didn’t know where she’d find a place more comfortable.

Polly was aroused from her concern over the recent customer by the abrupt realization that he had forgotten to pay for his entertainment. She sighed. Kewpie already owed more than the school rules allowed. Just then the door opened to admit a slim, round-faced boy of about Polly’s age. He had red-brown hair under his blue school cap, an impertinent nose, and very blue eyes. He wore a suit of gray, with a dark-blue sweater beneath the coat. He wore, also, a cheerful and contagious smile.

“Hello, Polly,” was his greeting. “Laurie been in yet?”

“No, no one but Kewpie, Ned. He was looking for Laurie, too. He’s just gone.”

“Well, I don’t know where the silly hombre’s got to,” said the new-comer. “He was in class five minutes ago, and then he disappeared. Thought he’d be over here. I’d like a chocolate ice-cream soda, please. Say, don’t you hate this kind of weather? No ice and the ground too wet to do anything on. Funny weather you folks have here in the East.”

“Oh, it won’t be this way long,” answered Polly as she filled his order. “The ground will be dry in a day or two, if it doesn’t rain――or snow again.”

“Snow again!” exclaimed the other. “Gee-all-whillikens, does it snow all summer here?”

“Well, sometimes we have a snow in April, Ned, and this is only the twenty-first of March. But when spring does come it’s beautiful. I just love the spring, don’t you?”

“Reckon so. I like our springs back home, but I don’t know what your Eastern springs are like yet.” He dipped into his soda and nodded approvingly. “Say, Polly, you certainly can mix ’em. Congreve’s has got nothing on you. Talking about spring, back in California――”

He was interrupted by the opening of the door. The new arrival was a slim, round-faced youth of about Polly’s age. He had reddish-brown hair under the funny little blue cap he wore, a somewhat impertinent nose, and very blue eyes. He wore a suit of gray knickers with coat to match and a dark blue sweater beneath the coat. Also, he wore a most cheerful smile. The first arrival turned and, with spoon suspended, viewed him sternly.