Mitchell Ruth Comfort - Play the Game!

8/12/2019 Mitchell Ruth Comfort - Play the Game!

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The Project Gutenberg EBook of Play the

Game!, by Ruth Comfort Mitchell

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Title: Play the Game!

Author: Ruth Comfort Mitchell

Release Date: May 27, 2007 [EBook #21625]

Language: English

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK

PLAY THE GAME! ***


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RUTH COMFORT

MITCHELL

D. APPLETON AND


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COMPANY

NEW YORK :: LONDON :: 1924

COPYRIGHT, 1921, BY

D. APPLETON AND

COMPANY


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Copyright, 1920, by The Crowell

Publishing Company

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF

AMERICA

TO

MY BROTHERS

Books byRUTH COMFORT MITCHELL

CORDUROY


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NARRATIVES IN VERSE

JANE JOURNEYS ON

PLAY THE GAME

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY

New York London


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CHAPTER IX

CHAPTER X

CHAPTER XI

CHAPTER XII

CHAPTER XIII

CHAPTER XIV

CHAPTER XV

CHAPTER XVI


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PLAY THE

GAME!


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CHAPTER I

There was no denying the fact that Hono

Carmody liked the boys. No one eve

attempted to deny it, least of all Hono

herself.

When she finished grammar school he

mother and her gay young stepfather tol

her they had decided to send her t

Marlborough rather than to the Lo

Angeles High School.

The child looked utterly aghast. "Oh," shsaid, "I wouldn't like that at all. I don

believe I could. I couldn't bearit!"

"My dear," her mother chided, "don't b


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silly! It's a quite wonderful school, know

all over the country. Girls are sent ther

from Chicago and New York, and even

Boston. You'll be with the best girls, thevery nicest"

"That's just it," Honor interrupted

forlornly.

"What do you mean?"

"Girls. Just girls. Oodles and oodles o

nothing but girls. Honestly, Muzzie, I don

hink I couldstand it." She was a large

substantial young creature with a broa

brow and hearty coloring and candid eyes

Her stepfather was sure she would neve

have her mother's beauty, but he wa

almost equally sure that she would neve

need it. He studied her closely and he


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actions and reactions intrigued him. H

aughed, now, and his wife turned mildl

shocked eyes on him.

"Stephen, dear! Don't encourage her i

being queer. I don't like her to be queer.

Mrs. Lorimer was not in the least quee

herself, unless, indeed, it was queer to bstartlingly lovely and girlish an

appealing at forty-one, with a secon

husband and six children. She was not a

especially motherly person except imoments of reproof and then she alway

spoke in a remote third person. "Honor

Mother wants you to be more with girls.

Then, as if to make it clear that she wanot merely advancing a personal whim

"You need to be more with girls."

"Why?"


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"Whywhy because Mother says yo

do." Mrs. Lorimer did not like to argue

She always got out of breath and warm

ooking.

Her daughter dropped on the floor at he

feet. Mrs. Lorimer had small, happy

ooking, lily-of-the-field hands and Honoook one of them between her hard brow

paws and squeezed it. "I know, butwhy

do you say so? I don't know anything abou

girls. Why should I, when I've had eighboy cousins and five boy brothers and"

she gave Stephen Lorimer a brief, friendl

grin"and two boy fathers!" He

stepfather was not really younger than hiwife but he was incurably boyish. The gir

grew earnest. "Please,pretty-please, le

me go to L. A. High! I've counted on it so


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And"she was as intent and free fro

self-consciousness as a terrier at a ra

hole"all the boys I know are going to L

A. High! AndJimsy's going, and he'lneedme!"

Her stepfather laughed again and lighted

cigarette. "She has you there, Mildred. Hwill need her."

"Of course he will." Honor turned

grateful face to him. "I'll have to do all hiEnglish and Latin for him, so he can ge

signed up every week and play football!"

Mrs. Lorimer did not see why he

daughter's finishing need be curtailed b

young James King's athletic activities an

she started in to say so with vigor an

emphasis, but her husband held up his lon


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beautifully modeled hand rather in th

manner of a traffic policeman and stoppe

her.

"Look here, Mildred," he said, "suppos

you and I convene in special session an

consider this thing from all angles an

hen let her know what it comes to,shalwe? Run along, Top Step!"

"All right, Stepper," said the child

relievedly. "You explain it to her." Shwent contentedly away and a moment late

hey heard her robust young voice lifted o

he lawn next door,"Jim-zee! Oh, Jimsy

Come-mawn-out!"

"You see?" Mrs. Lorimer wanted rathe

naccurately to know. "That's what we'v

got to stop, Stephen."


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He smiled. "Butas your eldest offsprin

ust now inquiredwhy?"

"Why?" She lifted her hands and let thefall into her lap again, palm upward, an

regarded him in gentle exasperation

"Stephen, you know, really, sometimes

feel that you are not a bit of help to mwith the children."

"Sometimes you do, I daresay," he granted

her, serenely, "but most of the time youmust be simply starry-eyed with gratitud

over the brilliant way I manage them

Come along over here and we'll talk i

over!" He patted the place beside him ohe couch.

"You mean," said his wife a little sulkily

going, nevertheless, "that you'll talk m


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over!"

"That is my secret hope," said Stephe

Lorimer.t was all quite true. He did manage he

children and their childrenthere wer

hree of eachwith astonishing ease an

success. They amused him, and adore

him. He understood them utterly. Hono

was seven when her own father died an

nine when her mother married againStephen Lorimer would never forget he

first inspection of him. Nursemaids ha

done their worst on the subject o

stepfathers; fairy tales had presented thpattern. He knew exactly what was goin

on in her mind, andquite as earnestl

beneath his persiflage as he had se

himself to woo the widowhe set himsel


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o win her daughter. It was a matter o

moments only before he saw the colo

coming back into her square little face an

he horror seeping out of her eyes. It was matter of days only until she sought hi

out and told him, in her mother's presence

hat she believed she liked him better tha

her first father.

"Honor, dear! Youyou mustn't, really

" Mildred Lorimer insisted wit

herself on being shocked.

"Don'tyou, Muzzie? Don't you like hi

better?" the child wanted persistently t

know. "He was very nice, of course; I didike him awfully. But he was always 'wa

off Down Town ... at The Office. We

didn't have any fun with him. Stepper'

always home. I'm glad we married


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newspaper one this time."

"Stephen, that dreadful name.... What wil

people think?"Her new husband didn't in the least care

He and Honor had gravely considered o

hat first day what they should call eac

other. It seemed to Stephen Lorimer that i

was hardly fair to the gentleman who ha

stayed so largely at The Office to have hi

big little daughter and his tiny sons callinhis successor Father or Dad, andPap

with all its shades and shifts of accent lef

him cold. "Let's see, Honor. 'Stepfather' a

a salutation sounds rather accusingdoesn't it? 'Step-pa,' now, is less austere

but"

"Oh, Stephen, dear!" They were no


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consulting Mrs. Lorimer at all.

"I've got it! It's an inspiration! 'Stepper

eat, crisp, brisk. Means, if any onshould ask you, 'Step-pa' and also

iterally, stepper; a stepper; one who step

into another's place."

"Stephen"

"Well, haven't I, my dear?" He considered

he three young Carmodys, nine, seven

and five. "Steps yourselves, aren't you

Honor's the top step and"

"Oh, Stepper, call me Top Step! I like

hat."

"Right. And Billy's Bottom Step and Ted'

he Tweeny! Now we're all set!"


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"Yes," said Honor, contentedly. She

herded her little brothers out of the roo

and came back alone. "Butwhat'll I tel

people you are?"

"Why, I think," he considered, "you'r

young enough and trusting enough to cal

me A Writer."

"I mean, are you Muzzie's step-husband

oo?"

t was the first time she had seen th

ightness leave his eyes. "No.No. I a

your mothI am her husband. There is n

step there." He got up and walked over t

where his wife was sitting and towere

over her. He was a tall man and he looked

especially tall at that moment. "Her plai

husband. Extremely plain, as i


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happens"he was himself again for a

nstant"buther husband." It seemed t

he child that he had forgotten which on

of them had asked him the question anwas addressing himself to her mother b

mistake. He seemed at once angry an

demanding and anxious, and she had neve

seen her mother so pink. However, hequestion had been answered and she ha

affairs of her own. She went away withou

a backward glance so she did not see he

stepfather drop to his knees beside th

chair and gather the quiet woman roughl

nto his arms, nor hear his insistent voice

"Her husband. Thefirsthusbandsheever had. Say it, Mildred. Say it."

And now Honor was thirteen and a half

and tardily ready for High School, an


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here were three little Lorimers, twins an

a six months' old single. Stephen Lorimer

who had been a singularly footloos

world rover, had settled down securely ihe old Carmody house on South Figuero

Street. He was intensely proud of hi

paternity, personal and vicarious, and too

t not seriously but joyously. He wadramatic critic and special writer for th

eading newspaper of Los Angeles, and

heoretically he worked by night and slep

by day, but as a matter of puzzling fact h

did not sleep at all, unless one counted hi

brief morning naps. His eyes, i

consequence, seemed never to be quitopen, but nothing, nevertheless, escape

hem.

An outsider, looking in on them now, the


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o go to Marlborough. As she hersel

asked and I myself repeated,why?"

"And as I answered you both," said hiwife, trying hard to keep the conversatio

spinning lightly in the air as he did, "it'

because I want her to be more like othe

girls."

"And I," said her husband, "do not." Thi

was the place for Mildred Lorimer to flin

her own why but her husband was toquick for her. "Because she is so muc

finer and sounder and saner and sweete

as she is. Mildred, I have never seen an

iving creature so selfless. What was thword they coined in that play about Mars

'Otherdom?' That's it, yes; otherdom

That's Honor Carmody. She could hav

finished grammar school at twelve, bu


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running after them, slyly or brazenly; no

sitting at home, crimped and primped an

curled, waiting to be run after. No," h

said hotly, getting up and beginning toswallow up the room from wall to wal

with his long strides, "no! With them

Running with them, chin in, chest ou

sound, conditioned, unashamed!" Hbelieved that he meant to write

remendous book, one day, Honor'

stepfather. He often reeled off whol

chapters in his mind, warm and glowing. I

was only when he got it down on pape

hat it cooled and congealed. "Runnin

with them in the racefor the racehis hurtling promenade took him to th

window and he paused for an instant

"Come here, Mildred. Look at her!"


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Mildred Lorimer came to join him. On th

shabby, rusty lawn of the King place, nex

door, all the rustier for its nearness to

heir own emerald turf, sat HonoCarmody and Jimsy King, jointly an

severally lacing up a football.

"Yes, look at her!" said her mother withfeeling.

"Leave her alone, Mildred. Leave he

alive!"

The two children were utterly absorbed

The boy was half a head taller than th

girl, heavier, sturdier, of a startling

beauty. There was a stubborn, muc

reviled wave in his bronze hair and hi

eyes were a dark hazel flecked with black

His skin was bronze, too, bronzed b


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many Catalina summer and winter swim

at Ocean Park. It made his teeth seem ver

white and flashing.

The window was open to the soft Souther

California air, and the voices came acros

o the watchers.

"Holdit!"

"I amholding it!"

A handsome man of forty came up three-shaded street, not quite steadily, and

urned into the King's walk. His hat wa

pulled low over his eyes and the collar o

his coat was turned up in spite of thmildness of the day. He nodded to the bo

and girl as he went past them and on int

he house.


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"Again!" said Mrs. Lorimer, tragically

"That's the second time this week!"

"Rough on the kid," said her husband"See him now."

Jimsy King had turned his head and wa

following his father's slow progress up th

steps and across the porch and into th

house. "Be in in a minute, Dad!" he calle

after him.

"Loyal little beggar. I saw him steerin

him up Broadway one morning, just a

school time. Pluck."

Honor had looked after James King, thelder, too, and then at his son, and then a

he football in her hands again. "Hurr

up," she commanded. "Pull it tighter


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Tighter! Do you call that pulling?

nexorably she got his attention back to th

subject in hand.

"That makes it all the worse," said Mrs

Lorimer. "Of course they're only childre

babies, reallybut I couldn't hav

anything.... It's bad blood, Stephen. couldn't have my child interested in on

of the 'Wild Kings'!"

"Well, you won't have, if you're wise. Leem alone. Let 'em lace footballs on th

front lawn ... and they won't hold hands o

he side porch! Why, woman dear, like the

well-known Mr. Job, the thing you greatlfear you'll bring to pass! Shut her up in

girls' schooleven the best and sanest

and you'll make boys suddenly int

creatures of romance, remote, desirable


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Don't emphasize and underline for her

She's as clean as a star and as unself

conscious as a puppy! Don't hurry her int

what one of those English play-writinchaps callsGranville Barker, isn't it?

Yes,Madras House'the barnyar

drama of sex.... Male and female create

He them ... but men and women are a lonime in the making!'"

The lacing of the football was finished

The boy lifted his head and lookesoberly at the door through which hi

father had entered, not quite steadily. The

he drew a long breath, threw back hi

shining bronze head, said something in ow tone to the girl, and ran into the house

Honor Carmody got to her feet and stoo

ooking after him, the odd mothering loo


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n her square child's face. She stood so fo

ong moments, without moving, and he

mother and her stepfather watched her.

Suddenly Stephen Lorimer flung th

window up as far as it would go an

eaned out.

"It's all right, Top Step," he called

meeting the leaping gladness of he

glance. "We've decided, your mother and

. You're going to L. A. High! You'regoing" but now he dropped his voic

and spoke only for the woman beside him

slipping a penitent and conciliatory ar

about her, his eyes impish, "you're goino run with the boys!"


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CHAPTER II

The "Wild Kings" had lived in their fin

old house ever since the neighborhoo

could remember. The first and probabl

he wildest of them had come out fro

Virginia when Los Angeles was still a

drowsing Spanish village, bringing wit

him an aged and excellent cellar and flock of negro servants. Honor's Carmod

grandmother could remember th

picturesqueness of his entourage, of Jame

King himself, the hard-riding, harddrinking, soft-spoken cavalier with hi

proud, pale wife and his slim, high

stepping horses and his grinning blacks

The general conviction was, Grandmothe


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wife ever gave up or deserted save b

death, and no King wife ever wept on

neighbor's shoulder.

And now they had all wandered back t

Virginia or up to Alaska or down to

Mexico, and there was not an uncle o

cousin of his tribe left in Los Angeles foJimsy King; only his bad, beloved father

coming home at noon in rumpled evenin

dress, but wearing it better and mor

handily, for all that, than any other man ohe block.

t was agreed that there was no chance fo

Jimsy to escape the heritage of his bloodPeople were kind about it, but very firm

"If his mother had lived he might have ha

a chance, the poor boy," Mrs. Lorime

would sigh, "but with that father, and tha


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home life, and that example"

"My dear," said Stephen Lorimer, "can

you see what you are doing? Byyoumean the neighborhood. You are holding

his heredity up like a hoop for him to jump

hrough!"

Honor's stepfather held that there might b

a generous share of the firm-chinne

Scotch mother in Jimsy. Certainly it was

fighting chance; he was living in a day oess warmth and color than his father an

his forbears; there were more outlets fo

his interest and his energy. His father, fo

nstance, had not played football. Jimshad played as soon as he could walk alon

football, baseball, basketball, handball

water polo; life was a hard and tinglin

game to him. "It's an even chance," sai


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Stephen Lorimer, "and if Honor's pallin

with him can swing it, can we square i

with ourselves to take her away fro

him?" He carried his point, as usual, anhe boy and the girl started in at Lo

Angeles High on the same day. Hono

decided on the subjects which Jimsy coul

most safely takethe things he wastrongest in, the weak subjects in whic

she was strong. There was an inexorabl

rule about being signed up by ever

eacher for satisfactory work on Frida

afternoon before a Saturday football game

t was as a law of the Medes and Persians

even the teachers who adored him mosneeds must abide by it. There was n

cajoling any of them; even the pretty

ridiculously young thing who taugh

Spanish maintained a Gibraltar-lik


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firmness.

"You'll simply have to study, Jimsy, that's

all," said Honor."Study, yes, but that's not learning

Skipper!" (She had been that ever sinc

her first entirely seaworthy summer a

Catalina.) "I can study, if I have to, bu

hat's not saying I'll get anything into m

sconce! I'm pretty slow in the head!"

"I know you are," said Honor, sighing. "O

course, you've been so busy with othe

hings. Think what you've done i

athletics!"

"Fast on the feet and slow in the head," h

grinned. "Well, I'll die trying. But you've

got to stand by, Skipper."


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"Of course. I'll do your Latin and Englis

and part of your Spanish."

"Gee, you're a brick.""It's nothing." She dismissed it briefly

"It's my way of doing something, Jimsy

hat's all. It's the only way I can be on th

eam." She glowed pinkly at the thought

"When I sit up on the bleachers and se

you make a touchdown and hear 'em yel

why I'm there! I'm on the team becaus've helped a little to keep you on th

eam! It almost makes up for having to b

a girl. Just for the moment, I'm not sittin

up high, clean and starched and safe; I'on the field, hot and muddy and with m

nose bleeding, doingsomething for L. A.

'm there!"


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Jimsy slapped her on the shoulder like

man and brother. "You're there all th

ime, Skipper! You're there a million!"

He made the first team the first day h

went out to practice. There was n

denying him. He captained the team th

second year and every year until hgraduated, a year late for all his friend'

unwearying toil. As a matter of fact the

did not make a special effort to get hi

hrough on time; the team needed him, thsquad needed him, L. A. needed him. I

was more like a college than a Hig

School in those days, with its numbers an

ts spirit, that strong, intangible evidencof things not seen. There was somethin

about it, a concentrated essence of Jims

King and hundreds of lesser Jimsy Kings


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You can't beat L. A. High!

Use your team to get up steam

ut you can't beat L. A. High!

t rolled out over the football field an

echoed away in the soft Souther

California air. It was gay, inexorable; you

couldn't beat L. A. High, field obleachers.

Stephen Lorimer never missed a game

His wife went once and never again.

"I suppose I am too sensitive," she said

"but I can't help it. It's the way I'm made.

simply cannot endure seeing anything s

brutal. I can't understand those young girl

.. and the mothers!" Two of her own

were on the second team, now, but sh

never saw them play, and they came in th


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back way, after games and practice

sneaking up to Honor's room with thei

black eyes and their gory noses for he

capable first aid. She was not oneMildred Lorimer, into whose blood

something of the iron had entered. He

boys bewildered her as they grew an

oughened out of baby fiber. She was ittle unhappy about it, but she was mor

beautiful than she had ever been in he

ife, and freer, with the last little Lorime

shifting sturdily for himself and his fathe

more in love with her than ever. She had

more or less resigned her activ

motherhood to him. The things she mighhave done for Honor, the selection of he

frocks and hats, the color scheme of he

room, her parties, the girl at seventeen di

efficiently for herself. Her childis


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squareness of face and figure wa

rounding out rather splendidly and she ha

a sure and dependable sense of what t

wear. Her things were good in line andcolor, smartly simple. She had thic

braids of honey-colored hair wound roun

her head; her brow was broad and calm

her gray eyes serene; she had a fresh anhearty color. Stephen Lorimer believed

hat she had a voice. She sang like one o

he mocking birds in her garden, joyously

radiantly, riotously, and her stepfather

who knew amazingly many great persons

persuaded a famous artist to hear he

when she gave her concert in Los Angeles"Yes," she said, nodding her head, "it is a

voice. It is a voice. A little teaching, yes

his Barrett woman who was once m


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pupil, she will be safe with her. Not too

much; not too much singing. Finish you

school, my little one. Then you shall com

over to me for a year, yes? We shall seewhat we shall see!" She patted her chee

and sent her out of the room ahead o

Stephen.

"Well?" he wanted to know.

"But yes, a voice, as I have said. Send he

o me when her schooling is over."

"She has a future?"

The great contralto shrugged her thic

shoulders. "I fear not. I think not."

His face lengthened. "Why?"

"Because, my friend, she will care mor


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for living. She will not care so greatly t

et, that large child. She will onlygive

She has not the fine relentless selfishnes

o make the artist. Well, we shall see. Lifemay break her. Send her to me. In two

years, yes? No, no, I will have no thanks

t is so small a thing to do.... One grow

fat and old; it is good to have youngnesnear. Now, go, my friend. I shall gargle

my throat and sleep." She gave him a ho

plump hand to kiss.

Honor was not especially impressed. Sh

rather thought, when the time came, sh

should prefer to go to Stanford, but sh

iked her music lessons, meanwhile. Ifilled up her time, the business of singing

n that last year when she was more o

ess marking time and helping Jims


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hrough.

Her stepfather watched her with growin

amazement. So far as any one might judgeand to Mrs. Lorimer's tearful relief

Honor's attitude toward the last of th

"Wild Kings" was at seventeen what i

had been at twelve, at six.

"I was right, wasn't I?" Stephen wanted t

know.

"Well ... if you can only keep on being

right about it! I'm so thankful about he

singing. That year abroad will b

wonderful. She'll meet new people ... rea

men."

"Young Jimsy is exhibiting every known

symptom of becoming a real man."


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uncheons and from luncheons to teas, an

a rough and ready seven-passenger affai

nto which the whole tribe might be piled

and which Honor Carmody drove bettehan her stepfather, who was apt to drea

at the wheel. On Sundays Stephen Lorime

ook them all, Jimsy, Honor, Billy and Te

Carmody, the Lorimer twins and the lasittle Lorimer, on motor picnics to th

beach. They drove to Santa Monica, dow

he Palisades, up the narrow, winding

wave-washed road to the Malibou Ranc

and built a fire and broiled chops an

made coffee and baked potatoes, afte

heir swim, ate like refugees and slept likpuppies on the sand. In the afternoon

when they came back to the gracious ol

house in its wide garden on Sout

Figueroa Street Mildred Lorimer woul


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be waiting, in a frock he loved, to give he

husband his tea, cool, lovely, remote fro

he rougher fun of life.

n the eveningsSunday evenings

Honor held her joyous At Homes. Thre

or four favored girls and a dozen boy

came to supper, a loud, hilarious mealTakasugi, the cook, and Kada, the second

boy, were given their freedom. Honor, in

he quaint aprons her stepfather ha

picked up here and there over the worldpink, capable, with the assistance of Jims

and her biggest brothers, got supper.

t was a lively feast. Jimsy King, in one oKada's white jackets, waited on the table

They ate enormously, and when they had

finished they pronounced their ungodl

gracea thunderous tattoo on the tabl


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Some way, with the deep wisdom of boys

he knew, better than she could, that th

young Burke person was better on th

field than in the drawing-room. There wanothing snobbish in their gatherings

shabby boys came, girls who had mad

heir own little dimity dresses. It was th

ntangible, inexorable caste of the besboyhood, and Honor knew, comfortably

hat her particular King could do n

wrong.

The rooting section had a special yell fo

Jimsy, when he had sped down the field to

a touchdown or kicked a difficult goal. I

followed the regular High School yelhair-lifting in its fierceness:

King! King! King!

K-I-N-G, King!


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G-I-N-K, Gink!

He's the King Gink!

He's the King Gink!

He's the King Gink!K-I-N-G, King! KING!

and Honor utterly agreed with them.


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CHAPTER III

The house across the street from th

Carmody place was suddenly sold. Peopl

were curious and a little anxious. Ever

one on that block had been there for

generation or so; there was a sense o

permanence about them alleven th

Kings.

"Eastern people," said Mrs. Lorimer. "A

mother, rather delicate-looking, and on

son, eighteen or nineteen I should say

He's frail-looking, too, and he limps

ittle. I imagine they're very nice

Everything about them"her magazin

reading had taken her quite reasonably t


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a front window the day the newcomers

furniture was uncrated and carried i

"seems very nice." She hoped, if i

developed that they really were desirablhat they would be permanent. Lo

Angeles was coming to have such

floating population....

Honor and Jimsy observed the boy fro

across the street, a slim, modish person

"Gee," said Jimsy, "it must be fierce to b

ame!to have your body notnot dwhat you tell it to! I wonder what h

does? He can't do anything, can he?" Hi

eyes were deep with honest pity.

"Oh, I suppose he sort of fills in wit

other things," Honor conceded. "I expec

f people can't do the things that coun

most, they go in for other things. He seem


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"All right. Come in afterward and tell m

what you think of him."

He nodded and swung off across thstreet. It was an hour before he came back

glowing. "Gee, Skipper, I'm strong for tha

kid! Name's Van Meter, Carter Van Meter

He's got a head on him, that boy! He'been everywhere and seen everything

hree times abroadCanada, Mexico

You ought to hear him talknot a bit up

stagy, no side at all, but interesting! asked him for supper, Sunday night. You'l

be crazy about himall the bunch will!

Thus Jimsy King on the day Carter Van

Meter limped into his life; thus Jimsy Kinhrough the years which followed

worshiping humbly the things he did no

have in himself, belittling his own gifts


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enlarging his own lacks, glorifying hi

friend. He had never had a deeply intimat

boy friend before; the team was his friend

he squad; Honor had sufficed for a neareie. It was to be different, now; a sharing

She was to resent a little in the beginning

before she, too, came under the spell o

he boy from the East.

Mrs. Lorimer came smiling back from he

call. "Verynice," she told her husband an

her daughter, "really charming. And hehings are quite wonderful ... rare rugs .

portraits of ancestors. A widow. Here fo

her health, and the boy's health; he's neve

been strong. All she has in the world .wrapped up in him. Very Eastern!"sh

aughed at the memory. "She said, 'And

from what part of the East do you come


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Mrs. Lorimer?' When I said I was bor

here in Los Angeles she almost gasped

and then she flushed and said, 'Oh, really

s it possible? But I met some people oshipboard, oncethe time before las

when I was crossingwho were natives

and they were quitedelightful.'"

"The word 'native' intrigues them," sai

Stephen, drawing off her long, limp sued

gloves and smoothing them. "I daresa

she'll be looking for war whoops anomahawks. And if it comes to that, w

can furnish the former, especially Sunda

night."

"Muzzie, did you meet the boy?" Hono

wanted to know.

"Yes. He came in for tea with us. A


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beautifully mannered boy. Very much a

ease. We must have him here, Honor."

"Yes, Jimsy's already asked him foSunday night, Muzzie. Jimsy likes him."

"Well, he may. He has a something ...

don't know what it is, exactly, but he wil

be good for all of you."

"We'll be good for him, too," said he

daughter, calmly. "It must be fearfully dul

for him, not knowing any one, and bein

ame."

He came to supper, a trim young glass o

fashion, and it was he, the stranger, whowas entirely at his ease, and the "bunch,

he gay, accustomed bunch, which was

ittle shy and constrained. Jimsy stoo


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sponsor for him and Honor was an earnes

hostess. He said he enjoyed himself

certainly he made himself gently agreeabl

o Mrs. Lorimer, to the girls. Honor'stepfather observed him with his undyin

curiosity. He was a plain boy with a loo

of past pain in his colorless face,

shadowed bitterness in his eyes, a droopat the corners of his mouth when he wa

not speaking. For all his two motor car

and his rare old rugs and the portraits o

ancestors and his idolized only sonship

ife had clearly withheld from him th

hings he had wanted most. There was

baffled imperiousness about him, Stephedecided.

"A clever youngster," he told his wife

watching him from across the room


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"Brains. But I don't like him."

"Stephen! Why not?"

He shook his head. "I don't know yet. But know. I had a curious sense, as he cam

imping into the room to-night, of 'Ente

he villain.'"

"My dear,that poor, frail boy, with his

ovely, gentle manners!"

"I know. It does sound rather piffleDaresay I'm wrong. The kids will size hi

up."

When Carter Van Meter came to tell hihostess good-by, he smiled winningly

"This has been very jolly, Mrs. Lorimer. I

was good of you to let me come. Mothe

asked me to say how much sh


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appreciated it. But"he hesitated"Ma

come in some afternoon whenjust yo

and Miss Honor are here?" He looke

wistful, and frailer at the end of thevening than he had at the beginning.

"Of course you may, my dear boy!" Mrs

Lorimer gave him the glory of her speciasmile. "Come soon!"

He came the next day but one, and as he

mother was at a bridge afternoon it waHonor who entertained him. She had jus

come home from High School and sh

wore a middy blouse and a short skirt an

ooked less than her years. "Let's sit in thgarden, shan't we?I hate being indoors

minute more than I can help!" She led th

way across the green, springy lawn to th

ittle rustic building over which the vivi


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Bougainvilla climbed and swarmed, an

he followed at his halted pace. "Besides

we can see Jimsy from here when h

comes by from football practice, and calhim in. I just didn't happen to go to watc

practice to-day, and now"she smiled a

him,"I'm glad I didn't." There wa

something intensely pitiful about this lao her mothering young heart, for all hi

poise and pride.

He waited gravely until she haestablished herself on a bench before h

sat. "Tell me about this fellow King

Every one seems very keen about him."

Honor leaned back and took a serge-cla

knee between two tanned hands. "Well,

don't know how to begin! He'swell, he'

ust Jimsy King, that's all! But it's mor


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han any other boy in the world."

"You're great friends, aren't you?"

"Jimsy and I? I should say we are! We'veknown each other ever sincewel

before we could walk or talk! Our nurse

used to take us out together in our buggies

We were born next doorin these two

houses, on the same day. Jimsy's just abou

an hour older than I am!"

"I have never had many friends," sai

Carter Van Meter. "I've been moving

about so much, traveling ... other thing

have interfered." He never referred

directly or indirectly, to his ill health o

his limp.

"Well, you can have all you want now,


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said Honor, generously. "And Jimsy like

you!" She bestowed that like a decoration

"Honestly, I never knew him to take such

fancy to any one before in all his life. Hikes every one, you know,I mean, h

never dislikes anybody, but he never get

crushes. So, it means something to hav

him keen about you. If he's for youeverybodywill be for you."

"Why do people like him so?"

"Can't help it," said Honor, briefly. "Even

eachers. He's not terribly clever a

school, and of course he doesn't have a

much time to study as some do, but theachers are all keen about him. The

know what he is. I expect that's wha

counts, don't you? Not what people have

or do, or know; what they are. Why, on


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ime I happened to be in the Vice

Principal's office about something, and i

was a noontime, and there was a wil

rough-house down in the yard. Honestlyyou couldn't hear yourself think! Th

Principalhe was a new man, just com

kept looking out of the window, and

getting more and more nervous, and finallhe said, 'Shouldn't we stop that, Mrs

Dalton?' And she looked out and laughed

and said, 'Jimsy King's in it, and he'll stop

t before we need to notice it!' That'swha

eachers think of him, and the boys

believe they'd cut up into inch pieces fo

him.""I suppose it's a good deal on account o

his football. He's on the team, isn't he?

His eyes disdained teams.


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"On the team? He isthe team! Captain las

year and this,and next! Wait till you see

him play. He's the fastest full back we'v

ever had, since anybody can rememberThere'll be a game Saturday. We play

Redlands. Will you come, and sit wit

Stepper and me?"

"Thanks. I don't care very much for

he stopped, held up by the growing amaz

n her face. "Yes, I'd like very much to go

with you and Mr. Lorimer. I don't caremuch about watching games where I don

know the people"he retrieved an

amended his earlier sentence"but you'l

explain everything to me."

She grinned. "I'm afraid I won't be ver

nice about talking to you. I get simpl

wild, at games. I'm right down there, in it


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've never gotten over not being a boy! Bu

Jimsy's wonderful about letting me hav

as much share in it as I can. You'll hear al

sorts of tales about him, when you come tknow people,plays he's made an

games he's won, and how he never, neve

oses his head or his temper, no matte

what the other team does. If we shoulever have another war, I expect he'd be

great general." Her face broke into mirt

again at a memory. "Once, we wer

playing Pomonaimagine a high schoo

playing a college and beating them!an

somebody was out for a minute, and Jims

was standing waiting, with his armfolded across his chest, and he had on

head guard, and it was very still, an

suddenly a girl's voice piped up'Oh

doesn't he look just like Napoleon?' He'


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never heard the last of it; it fusses hi

awfully. I never knew anybody so modest

suppose it's because he's always bee

he leader, the head of things, ever sinche started kindergarten. He's used to it; i

seems just natural to him."

The new boy shifted his position uneasily

Honor thought perhaps he was suffering

his face looked pinched. "Shall we go i

he house? Would you be more comf"she caught herself up"perhaps you're no

used to being out of doors all the time

Eastern people find this glaring su

iresome sometimes."

"It's very nice here. You go to Lo

Angeles High School, too?" He didn't car

about changing his position but he wante


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ntensely to change the subject, even if h

had started it by his query. "Odd, isn't it

hat you don't go to a girls' school?"

Honor laughed. "That's what Muzzi

hinks. She did want me to go, but I didn

want to, and Steppermy stepfather, yo

know,stood up for me. I never likedgirls very much when I was little. I d

now, of course. I've two or three gir

friends who are wonders. I adore them

But I still like boys best. I suppose"hsaw that her mind came back like a needl

o the pole"it's on account of Jimsy

Wait till you really know him! You will

be just the same. Honestly, he's thbravest, gamest person in the world

Once, a couple of years ago, Steppe

noticed that he was limping, and he mad


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bandages off the leg and all the boys an

eachers wrote their autographs an

sentiments on the cast. He called it hi

Social Register and his Guest Book!Honor was too happily deep in he

reminiscences to see that her new frien

was a little bored.

He got suddenly to his feet. "Yes. He mus

be an unusual fellow. But I'd like to hea

you sing. Won't you come into the house

and sing something for me?"

"All right," said Honor. "I love to sing, bu

haven't studied very much yet, and

haven't any decent songs. Why doesnsomebody write some?Songs abou

something? Not just maudling along abou

heart' and 'part' and that kind of stuff

Come on! There's Stepper at the pian


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now. He'll play for me."

t was mellow in the long living-roo

after the brazen afternoon sun outside, ivable, lovable room. Stephen Lorime

had an open book on the music rack and h

was thumping some rather stirring chords

"Stepper," said Honor, "here's Carter Van

Meter, and he wants me to sing for him

and I was just saying how I hated all thes

mushy old songs. Can't you find msomething different?"

"I have," said her stepfather. "I've got th

words here and I'm messing about fo

some music to go with them."

Honor looked out as she passed th

window on her way to the piano. "Wait a


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minute! Here's Jimsy! I'll call him!" Sh

sped to the door and hailed him, and h

came swiftly in. "Hello! How wa

practice?"

"Fair. Burke was better. Tried him on the

end. 'Lo, Mr. Lorimer. 'Lo, Carter!"

"I've got a poem here you'll all like," sai

Stephen Lorimer. "No, you needn't shuffl

your feet, Jimsy. It's your kind. Sit down

all of you. I'll read it."

"So long as it hasn't got any 'whate'ers

and yestereves' and 'beauteous,'" the las

King grinned. "Shoot!"

"It's an English thing, by Henry Newbolt

about cricket, but that doesn't matter. It'

he thing itself. I may not have the word


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smoke:

The River of Death has brimmed his

banks;

And England's far, and Honor a name,But the voice of a school boy rallies the

ranks

Play up! Play up! andPlay the Game!

His own voice shook a little on the las

ine and he was a trifle amused at hi

emotionalism. He tried to bring th

moment sanely back to the commonplace"Corking for a song, Top Step. I'll hamme

out some chords ... doesn't need much.

He looked again through the strangel

charged atmosphere of the quiet room, ahe three big children. Jimsy King was o

his feet, shaken out of the serene insolenc

of his young stoicism, his hands openin


87/467

and shutting, swallowing hard, and Honor

he boy-girl, Jimsy's sturdy Skipper, wa

crying, frankly, unashamed, unaware, th

ears welling up out of her wide eyesrolling down her bright cheeks. Onl

Carter Van Meter sat as before, a little

withdrawn, a little aloof, in the shadow.


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CHAPTER IV

When they told Marcia Van Meter (Mrs

Horace Flack) that her little boy woul

always be lame, that not one of the grea

surgeon-wizards on either side of th

Atlanticnot all the king's horses and al

he king's men could ever weight o

wrench or force the small, thin left ledown to the length of the right, she vowe

o herself that she would make it up t

him. She was a pretty thing, transparentl

frail and ethereal-looking, who haalways projected herself passionately int

he lives of those about herher father'

and mother'sthe young husband's wh

had died soon after her son was born


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She spent herself untiringly for him,

playmates, gifts, tutors, journeys. He

happiest moments were those in which h

said, "Mother, I'd like one of thoswireless jiggers,"or a new saddle

horse, or a new roadsterand she wa

able to answer, "Dearest, I'll get it fo

you! Mother'll get it for you to-morrow!"

But the days when she could spel

omnipotence for him were fading away

He wanted now, increasingly, thingbeyond her gift. He was a clever boy

proud, poised. He learned early to wear

mask of indifference about his lameness

o affect a coolness for sports whiccame, eventually, to be genuine. H

studied easily and well; he could talk wit

a brilliancy beyond his years. He learne


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"I don't know," he said, moodily, "but a

any rate they haven't done it."

Jimsy King was goingby the grace ohis own frantic eleventh hour efforts an

his teachers' clemency and Hono

Carmodyto graduate. Barrin

calamities, he would possess a diploma iFebruary. Honor was tremendousl

earnest about it; Carter, to whom learnin

came as easily as the air he breathed

faintly amused. She thought, sometimesfor brief, traitorous moments, that Carte

wasn't always good for Jimsy.

"You see," she explained to her stepfather"Carter doesn't realize how hard Jims

has to grind for all he gets. Even now

Stepper, after being here a year, he

actually doesn't realize the importance o


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Jimsy's getting signed up to play. It's

strange thing, with all his cleverness, bu

he doesn't, and he's always taking Jims

out on parties and rides and things, and hgets behind in everything. I think I'll jus

have to speak to him about it."

He nodded. "That's a good idea, Top StepDo that."

She grew still more sober. "Another thing

Stepper ... aboutabout Mr. King'srouble. Of course, you and I have neve

believed that Jimsy hadto inherit it, hav

we?"

"No. Not if people let him alone. His life

his training, his environment, are ver

differentmore wholesome, vital. Th

energy which his grandfather and hi


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uncles and his father had to find a vent fo

n cards and drink Jimsy's sweated out i

athletics."

"Yes. Butjust the sameisn't it bette

for Jimsy to keep away fromfrom thos

hings?"

"Naturally. Better for anybody."

She sighed. "Carter doesn't think so. H

says the world is full of itJimsy mus

earn to be near it and let it alone."

"That's true, in a sense, T. S...."

"I know. Butsometimes I think Cartedeliberately takes Jimsy places totes

him. Of course he thinks he's doing righ

but it worries me."


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chancesjust as any other fellowjust a

must."

"Oh, but, Carter, you know you're strongand"

Suddenly his pale face was stung with ho

color. "Honor," he leaned forward, "you

hink I'm strong, in any way? You don'

consider me anutter weakling?"

She looked with comprehendin

enderness at his crimson face. "Why

Carter, dear! You know I've never though

you that! There are more ways of being

being strong thanthan just with muscle

and bones!"

He reached out and took one of her firm

anned hands in his, and she had neve


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seen him so winningly wistful, s

wistfully winning. "I thought," he said

very low, "that was the only kind o

strength that counted with you. ThenI dcount with you, Honor? I do?"

She was a little startled, a little frightened

wholly uncomfortable. There wasomething in Carter's voice she didn

understand ... something she didn't want t

understand. She pulled her hand away an

managed her boyish grin. "Of course yodo,goose! And you'll count more i

you'll help me to look after Jimsy an

have him graduate on time!" She got up

quickly as her stepfather came into throom, and Carter went home, crossing th

street with the rather pathetic arrogance o

his halting gait, his head held high, tilted


99/467

ittle back, which gave him the expressio

of looking down on a world of swif

striders.

He found his mother reading before a low

fire. "Well, dearest?" She smiled up a

him, yearningly.

He stood looking down at her, his fac

working. "Mother, I want Hono

Carmody."

"Carter!"

"I want Honor Carmody." He rode ove

her murmured protests. "I know I'm onl

nineteen. I know I'm too youngshe's toyoung. I'd expect to wait, of course. Bu

I want her."

Marcia Van Meter's heart cried out to he


100/467

o say again as she had said all through hi

ittle-boy days, "Dearest, Mother'll get he

for you! Mother'll get her for you to

morrow!" But instead her gaze went dowo the page she had been reading ... the las

scene in "Ghosts," where Oswald Alvin

says:

"Mother, give me the sun! The sun!! The

Sun!!!" She shivered and shut the boo

with emphasis and threw it on a near-b

chair. She spoke brightly, reassuringly"I'm sure she's devoted to you, dear. You

are the best of friends, and that's enoug

for the present, isn't it?"

"No."

"Dearest, you've said yourself that yo

realize you're too young for anythin


101/467

serious, yet. Why can't you wai

contentedly, until"

"There's some one else. There's Jimsy.""Carter, I'm sure they're like brother and

sister. They have been playmates all thei

ives. That sort of thing rarely merges int

romance."

"Doesn't it?" His voice was seeking

hungry. "Honestly?"

"Veryrarely, dear, believe me!" She sped

o comfort him. "Besides, her people, he

mother, would never want anything of tha

sort ... the taint in his blood ... threputation of his family.... Mrs. Lorime

says they've always been called the 'Wild

Kings.' Of course Jimsy seems quite al


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School, champion of Southern California

was to meet Greenmount, the norther

champion, and nothing else in the worl

mattered very much to her and to Jimsy.

"It's so perfect, Carter, to have it come in

Jimsy's last year,to win the Stat

Championship for L. A. just before heaves."

"Sure of winning?"

"It will be pretty stiff going. They'r

awfully good, Greenmount. Not as good a

we are, on the whole, but they've got

punterGridleywho's a perfect wizard

f they can get within a mile of our goal

he can put it over! Butwe've got to win

We've simply got toand 'You can't bea

L. A. High!'"


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He came in grinning a few nights befor

he championship game. "Say, Skipper

what do you think they gave me on tha

essay? AB. A measlyB. Made me so sordarn near told 'em who wrote it!"

"Jimsy! You wrote it yourself, really.

ust smoothed it up a little."

"Yep, just a little! Well, either they're

wise, or they just figured it couldn't be

op-notcher if I'd written it!" He cashimself on the couch. "Gee, Skipper,

can't work to-night! I'm a dying man! Tha

dinner Carter bought me last night"

"Jimsy! You didn'tbreak training?"

"No. But I skated pretty close to the edge

You know, it's funny, but when I'm ou


107/467

with Carter I feel like such a boob, no

daring to eat this or that, or smoke oro

anything." Heresy this, from the thre

years' captain of L. A. High who hadnever considered any sacrifice worth

murmur which kept him fit for the rea

business of life. "Somehow, he's so keen

he makes me wish I had more in my heaandand less in my heels! You know

what I mean, Skipper. He does make m

ook like a simp, doesn't he?"

"No," said Honor, definitely. "Why

Jimsy, you're a million times bigge

person than Carter. Everybody knows that

nowingthings isn't everythingknowinwhat to wear and how to order meals a

he Alexandria and reading all the new

books and having been to Europe. Thos


108/467

hings just fill in for him; they make up

ittlefor the things you've had."

"Do you mean that, Skipper? Is thastraight?"

"Of course, Jimsycross my heart!" I

was curious, the way she was having t

comfort Jimsy for not being Carter, and

Carter for not being Jimsy.


109/467

CHAPTER V

t rained the day of the game. It had bee

sulking and threatening for twenty-fou

hours, and Honor wakened to the sound o

a sluicing downpour. She ran to he

window, which looked out on the garden

The long leaves of the banana tree wer

flapping wetly and the Bougainvilla ohe summerhouse looked soaked an

sodden. Somewhere a mocking bird wa

singing deliriously, making his tuneful fu

of the weather. Honor went down tobreakfast with a sober face.

They had a house-guest, a friend of he

stepfather's, an Englishwoman, a novelis


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She was a brisk, ruddy-skinned creature

with crisp sentences and sturdy legs i

hick stockings, and she was taking a kee

nterest in American sport. "Oh, I say,she greeted Honor, "isn't this bad for you

match?"

"Yes, Miss Bruce-Drummond, it is. Wewere hoping for a dry field. They're mor

used to playing in the mud than we are

But it'll be all right."

"I'm fearfully keen about it.No, than

youmy mother was Scotch, you see, an

don't take sugar to my porridge. Salt

please!" She turned to Stephen Lorimer"I've been meaning to ask you what yo

hink of Arnold Bennett over here?"

Honor's stepfather flung himself zestfull


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nto the discussion. He liked cleve

women and he knew a lot of them, but h

had been at some pains not to marry one

Mildred Lorimer, beside the shinincopper coffee percolator, looked a lovel

Vesta of the hearth and home.

Honor wished she might take a pleat in thfore-noon. She didn't see how she wa

going to get through the hours betwee

breakfast and the time to start for th

game. It was a relief to see Jimsy cominacross the lawn at ten o'clock. She ran ou

o meet him.

"Hello, Jimsy!"

"'Lo, Skipper. Isn't this weather th

deuce?"


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"Beastly, but it doesn't really matter

We're certain to" she broke off and

ooked closely at him. "Jimsy, what's th

matter?"

"Oh ... nothing."

"Yes, there is! Come on in the house

There's no one home. Stepper's drivin

M i s s Bruce-Drummond and Muzzie'

being marcelled." She did not speak agai

until they were in the living room. "Nowell me."

"Whyit's nothing, really. Feeling kind o

seedy, that's all. Didn't have much sleep."

"Jimsy! You didn'tyou weren't out with

Carter?"

"Just for a little while. We went to a


113/467

Movie. Coach told us tokeep our mind

off the game. But I was home and in th

house at nine-thirty. It wasDad. H

came in about midnight. II didn't go tbed at all."

"Oh...." Her eyes yearned over him, ove

hem both. "Jimsy, I'm so terribly sorry. Ihehow is he now?"

"Sleeping. I guess he'll sleep all day. Ge

I wish I could!" His young face lookegray and strained.

The girl drew a long breath. "Jimsy

you've got to sleep now. You've got to pu

tyou've got to put your father away

out of your mind. You don't belong to him

o-day; you belong to the team; you belon

o L. A.... No matter what's happening to


114/467

ou, you've got to do your bestand

and beyour best."

"If I can," he said, haggardly."Lie down on the couch."

"Oh, I don't want to lie down, Skipper

'll just"

"Lie down on the couch, Jimsy!" Sh

herded him firmly to the couch, tucked

soft, flat pillow under his head, threw ight afghan over him. Then she opened

window wide to the wet sweet air an

drew the other shades down, and came t

sit on the floor beside him, talking all thime, softly, lazily, about the English lady

novelist who didn't take sugar "to" he

porridge ... about the giddy mocking bird


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singing in the rain ... about a new boo

which Carter thought was wonderful an

which she couldn't see through at all .

until his quick, burdened breathing yieldeo a long relaxing sigh like that of a tire

puppy, and the hope of L. A. High and the

ast of the "Wild Kings" slept. Sh

mounted rigid guard over him for threhours, banishing the returned stepfathe

and house-guest, keeping her noisy littl

brothers at bay. She had ordered a strictl

raining-table luncheon for one o'clock fo

her charge, and while the clock wa

striking the hour Kada brought the tray

Jimsy was still sleeping. Honor looked ahim, hesitating, then she ran to the pian

and struck her stepfather's rousing chord

and began to sing:


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There's a breathless hush in the Close to-

night,

Ten to make and the match to win

At the first line he stirred, at the second h

rubbed his eyes, and at the third he wa

sitting up and listening. She swung into th

finish, and as always, it ran away wither. She had never gotten over the firs

choking thrill at the words:

Play up! Play up! andPlay theGame!

Jimsy King came to stand beside her. Hi

hair was mussed and his face flushed, an

here was a sleep-crease on one cheek, bu

his eyes were clear and steady. "It's O. K

Skipper," he said. "I can. I'm going to.

will."


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Carter Van Meter drove Honor and

Stephen Lorimer and Miss Bruce

Drummond in his newest car and the fou

of them sat together on the edge of throoting section.

t was still raining a little, teasingly

reluctant to leave off altogether, and thfield was a batter of mud. The rootin

section of L. A. High was damp bu

undaunted. The yell leaders, vehemen

piercingly vocal, conducted them inthunderous challenges:

li beebo! Ali by-bo!

li beebo by-bo bum!Catch 'em in a rat trap,

ut 'em in a cat trap,

Catch 'em in a cat trap,

ut 'em in a rat trap!


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li beebo! Ali by-bo!

li beebo by-bo bum!

The bleachers rocked and creaked answayed with the rhythm of it. "My word!

said Miss Bruce-Drummond. She listene

fascinatedly to their deafening repertoire

Greenmount's supporters, a rather forlorittle group of substitutes, with the coac

and trainer and a teacher or two, and

pert fox terrier wearing their colors on hi

collar, elicitated a brief, passing pity froHonor. They looked strange and

friendless, these smart Northern prep

schoolers. The L. A. rooter

conscientiously gave their opponents' yeland received a spatter of applause. Th

ortherners trotted out on the field an

were hospitably cheered.


119/467

"There, Stepper," said Honor, tensely

"that's Gridleythe tallest one,see

Last on the right?"

"So, that's the boy with the beamish boot

eh?"

"Yes. He mustn't get a chance. He

mustn't."

Miss Bruce-Drummond looked at he

friend's stepdaughter. "You're frightfully

keen about it, aren't you?"

"Yes," said Honor, briefly.

"I daresay I shall find it very differenfrom Rugby, but I expect I shall be able to

follow it if you'll explain a bit."

Honor did not answer. She was standin


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up, yelling with all the strength of her lust

young lungs, as the Southern champion

came out. Then the rooting section mad

everything that they had said and donbefore seem like a lullaby; it seemed t

he Englishwoman she had never know

here could be such noise. Her hea

hummed with it:

King! King! King!

K-I-N-G, King!

G-I-N-K, Gink!He's the King Gink!

He's the King Gink!

He's the King Gink!

K-I-N-G, King! KING!

Honor sat down again, her fists clenched

her lower lip between her teeth. If only i

were time to begin ... time for the kick-off


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voice of Miss Bruce-Drummond, "that

quite understand what a 'down' is. Would

you mind explaining it to me?"

"Why," said Honor, without turning he

head, "they have three downs in which t

make" she was on her feet again

screaming, "Come on! Come on! Comeoh"

Jimsy King, with the mud-smeared bal

under his arm, had made fifteen preciouyards before he was tackled. He was up i

a flash, wiping the mud off his face

grinning. The rooters split the soft ai

asunder.

Stephen Lorimer looked at Honor and a

Carter Van Meter. He always felt sorry

for the boy at a game; he looked paler an


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frailer than ever in contrast with the heart

young savages on the field, and he wa

never able really to give himself to th

agony and wild joy of it.

Honor forced herself to sit still, he

elbows on her knees, her hot face proppe

on her clenched hands. They were playinbetter now, all of them, but it wasn

brilliant football; it couldn't be. It woul

be a battle of dogged endurance.

"I say, my dear, is that a down?" th

English novelist wanted to know.

"Yes," said Honor, patiently. "That's a

down, and now there'll be another becaus

hey have" again she cut short he

explanation and caught hold of he

stepfather's arm. "Stepper! Look! Gridley


124/467

sn't playing!"

He stared. "Really, Top Step? Why, they

surely""I tell you he isn't playing. See,there h

s, on the side-lines, in the purpl

sweater!"

"Well, so much the better for L. A.," said

Carter, easily.

Honor shook her head. "I don't understant." She began, oddly, to feel hersel

enveloped in a fog of depression, o

foreboding. Again and again her eyes lef

he play to rest unhappily on the silenfigure in the purple sweater. Jimsy wa

playing well; every man on the team wa

playing well; but they were not gaining


125/467

Jimsy King, on whose heels were alway

he wings of Mercury, could not get up

speed in that mud,a brief flash, no more

She began to bargain with the gods of thgridiron; at first she had been concerne

with scoring in the first five minutes o

play; then she had remodeled her petitio

.. to score in the first half. Now, hehroat dry, she was aching with the fear o

being scored upon ... counting the minute

yet to play, speeding them in her heart. I

was raining hard again. The rootin

section, in spite of the frantic effort of th

hoarse yell leaders, was slowing down

What was it?The rain? The mud? WaJimsy not himself, not the King Gink? Wa

his heart with his father in the darkene

room in the old King house?


126/467

"Of course, I'm not up on this at all, bu

'm rather afraid your young friends ar

getting the worst of it, my dear!" said Mis

Bruce-Drummond, cheerily.

"It's the longest first half I ever saw in m

ife," said Honor, between clenched teeth

"Ah, yes,I daresay it does seem so t

you, but I expect they keep the time ver

carefully, don't you?" She looked the gir

over interestedly. "The psychology of thisort of thing is ver-r-ry entertaining," sh

said to Stephen Lorimer.

"Less than five minutes, T. S.," said he

stepfather, comfortingly.

"You know, I'm afraid you'll think me

fearfully dull," said the Englishwoman


127/467

conversationally, "but I'm still not quit

clear about a 'down.' Would you min

elling me the next time they do one?Jus

when it begins, and when it ends?"

"One's ended now," said Honor, bitterly

"and we've lost the ball,on our twent

yard line. We've lost the ball."

"Ah, well, my dear, I daresay you'll soo

get it back!"

Honor sprang to her feet with a cry whic

made people turn and look at her. "Loo

here!Look!See what they're doing?" On

of the Greenmount players had been calle

out by the coach and had splashed his wa

o the side-lines, to be patted wetly on th

back and wrapped in a damp blanket. Tha

was well enough. That was the usua


128/467

hing. But the unusual, the astounding thin

was that two of the Greenmount team ha

slopped to the side-lines and picked u

Gridley, divested now of his purplsweater, bodily, in their arms, and carried

him, dry-shod, over the slithering mud

Honor gave a gasping moan. "I knew....

There was a dead, sick silence on thbleachers. The rain sluiced down

Somewhere in a near-by garden anothe

giddy mocking bird sang deliriously in th

stillness. Tenderly as two nurses with a

sick man, the bearers set Gridley down

Slowly, solemnly, he stepped off the

distance to the quarter back; briskly, buwith dreadful thoroughness, the men wh

had carried him wiped the mud from hi

feet with a towel and took their places t

defend him from the wild-eyed L. A. men


129/467

poised, breathless, menacing. There was

muttering roar from the bleachers

hoarsely pleading, commanding"Block

hat-kick!Block-that-kick! Block-ThatKick!" The kneeling quarter back opene

his muddy hands; the muddied oval cam

sailing lazily into them.... There was th

gentle thud of Gridley's toe against theather, and thenunbelievably

unbearably, it was an accomplished fact,

finished thing. Gridley had executed hi

place kick. They were scored on. It stoo

here on the board, glaring white letter

and figures on black:

GREENMOUNT 4 L. A. HIGH 0

At first Honor's own woe engulfed he

utterly. For the first instant she wasn

even aware of Jimsy King, standing alone


130/467

his arms folded across his chest, starin

down the field; of his men, wiping the mu

out of their eyes and looking at him

ooking to him; of the stunned rooters. Buat the second breath she was awake, aliv

again, tense, tingling, bursting with he

message for them all, keeping herself b

main force in her place. Jimsy King nevesaw any one in a game; he never knew an

one in a game; people ceased to exist fo

him while he was on the field. But to-day

n this difficult hour, she was to see hi

urn and face the bleachers and rake the

with his aghast and startled eyes until h

found her. She was on her feet, in hewhite jersey suit and her blue hat an

scarfL. A.'s colorswaving to him

ooking down at him with all her gallan

soul in her eyes. It seemed to her as if sh


131/467

must be saying it aloud; as if she must b

singing it:

Play up! Play up! andPlay theGame!

Then the bleachers and the players saw

he Captain of the L. A. team turn and

wade briskly down the field to Gridley

They saw him hold out his muddy hand

hey heard his clear, "Peach of a kick!

They saw him give the Northerner's hand hearty shake; they saw him fling up hi

head, and grin, and face the grandstand fo

a second, his eyes seeking.... They saw

him rally his men with a snapped-ouorder,and then they were on their feet

shouting, screaming, stamping, cheering:

KING! KING! KING!


132/467

The yell leaders couldn't get hold of them

here was no need. Every man was hi

own yell leader. They yelled for Gridley

and for Greenmount (why worry, wheJimsy clearly wasn't worried?) and fo

heir own team, man by man, and the cal

of time for the first half failed to make th

faintest dent in their enthusiasm.

"But"said Miss Bruce-Drummond, he

mouth close to Honor's ear"you haven

won, have you?"

"Not yet!" Honor shouted. "Wait!" She

began to sing with the rest:



Use your team to get up steam,

ut you can't beat L. A. High!


133/467

t was gay, mocking, scatheless

nexorable. You couldn'tbeat L. A. High

Honor swayed and swung to it. Use you

eam and your tricks and your dry-shomen to kick, but you couldn't beat L. A

High. And it appeared, in fact, that yo

couldn't, for Jimsy King's team went int

he second half like happy young tigersagainst men who were a little tired, a littl

overconfident, and in the first ten minute

of play the King Gink, mud-smeare

beyond recognition, grinning, went ove

he line for a touchdown, and nobod

minded much Burke's missing the goa

because they had won anyway:GREENMOUNT 4 L. A. HIGH 5

and the championship, the stat

championship, stayed south, and i


134/467

suddenly stopped raining and the sun cam

out gloriously after the reckless manner o

Southern California suns, and everythin

was for the best in the best of all possiblworlds.

Honor, star-eyed, more utterly and

completely happy and content than she haever been in her life, turned penitently t

Miss Bruce-Drummond. "When we ge

home," she said, "I'll explain to yo

exactly what a 'down' is!"

They waited to see the joyous serpentine

o watch Jimsy's struggles to get dow

from the shoulders of his adorers whbore him the length of the field and back

and then Carter drove them home and wen

back for the Captain, who would b

showered and dressed by that time. The


135/467

were both dining with Honor, but Jims

ooked in on his father first.

"Gusty says he's slept all day," hreported to Honor. He kept looking at her

with an odd intensity, all through th

ively meal. She had changed her we

white jersey for one of her long-linedcleverly simple frocks of L. A. blue, and

her honey-colored braids were like

crown above her serene forehead.

"You know, Stephen," said Miss Bruce

Drummond while they were having thei

coffee in the living room, "of course yo

know that both those lads are in love wityour nice girl."

"Do you see it, too?"


136/467

She laughed. "I may not know what

down' is, but I've still reasonably sharp

eyes in my head. And the odd thing is tha

she doesn't know it."

"Isn't it amazing? I'm watching, an

wondering."

"It's a pretty time o' life, Stephen," sai

one of the clever women he hadn't wante

o marry.

"'Youth's sweet-scented manuscript

Ethel," said Honor's stepfather.

"Jimsy, will you come here a minute?

Honor called from the dining-room door.

"Yes, Skipper!" He was there at a bound.

"Don't you think your father would lik


137/467


138/467

"I see. How about a ride to the beach

Supper at the ship-hotel? Celebrate

ittle?"

"Deuce of a lot of work for Monday,

Jimsy frowned. "Haven't studied a lic

his week."

Carter laughed. "Oh, Monday'sMonday

Come along! We can't"he turned to

Honor"be by ourselves to-night, wit

he celeb. here. Honor has to stay anplay-pretty with her."

"Well ... if we don't make it too late"

Jimsy turned and sped away with Honor'offering for James King.

Honor looked at Carter. His eyes wer

very bright; he looked more excited, now


139/467

some way, than he had at the game. Poo

old Carter. He wanted, she supposed, to

do something for Jimsy ... to give him

wonderful party ... to spend money on hi.. to excel and to shine in hisway. But

he ship-hoteland his father over ther

all day in the darkened roomFor th

first time in her honest life she stooped tguile. "I'll be down in a minute, Carter,

she said and ran upstairs, through the hal

down the backstairs, cut through th

kitchen and across the wet and spring

awn to the King place.

She waited in the shadow of the hous

until he came out.

"Jimsy!"

"Skipper!"


140/467

"I slipped outsh ... Jimsy, Ipleas

don't go with Carter to-night! I don't mea

o interfere oror nag, Jimsy,you know

hat, don't you?" She slipped a little on thwet grass in her thin slippers, and lai

hold of his arm to steady herself. "Buti

worries me. You're the finest, the mos

wonderful person in the world, and I trusyou more than I trust myself, butI know

how boys are aboutthingsand" sh

urned her face to the dark house where s

many "Wild Kings" had lived and moved

and had their unhappy being"I couldn

bearit if"

t began to rain again, softly, and themoved unconsciously toward the shelte

of the porch.

"You were so splendid to-day! I haven


141/467

had a chance to tell you ... shaking hand

with him, being so"

"You made me," said Jimsy King. Then, aher murmured protest. "You did. You

made me, just as you've made me do ever

decent thing I've ever done. I'm jus

beginning to see it. I guess I'm the blindesbat that ever lived. Of course I won't g

with Cart' to-night. I won't do anything yo

don't"

Honor had mounted two steps, to be unde

he roof of the porch, and now, turnin

sharply in her gladness, the wet slippe

slipped again, and she would have fallef he had not caught her.

"Skipper!"


142/467

"It'sit's all right!" said Honor in

breathless whisper. "I'm all right, Jimsy

Let me"

But Jimsy King would not let her go. H

held her fast with all his football strengt

and all his eighteen years of living an

oving, and he said over and over in thnew, strange voice she had never hear

before, "Skipper! Skipper! Skipper!"

"Jimsy ... whatwhat is happening to usJimsy, dear, we never beforeJimsy, are

weare weIs this beingin love?"

And the mocking-bird of the morning

mounted on the wet Bougainvilla on th

summerhouse in Honor's garden

explained to them in a mad, exultant

hrilling burst of song.


143/467


144/467


145/467

"Stephen, how canyou? One of the 'Wild

Kings'I cannot bear it. I simply canno

bear it." She clutched at her hope. "Sh

must go abroad even sooner than wplannedandstay abroad. Stephen, yo

will make them keep it a secret from ever

one?"

"They've already told Carter. Told him

ust after they'd told me."

"Oh, poor, poor Carter!" There was a notof fresh woe in her voice.

He turned sharply to look at her. "So

hat's where the pointed patent leathe

pinches, Mildred?"

"What do you mean?"

"You've been hoping it would be Carter?"


146/467

"Dearest, I've looked upon them all a

children.... It was the merest ... idea .

hought. Mrs. Van Meter is devoted to

Honor, Carter is an unusual boy, andhey're exceptional people. And heo

course, I mean in his boyish wayadore

Honor. This will be a cruel blow fo

him." She grieved. "Poor, frail boy...."

Stephen Lorimer smoked in silence for

moment. "I fancy Carter will not give u

hope. There's nothing frail about hidisposition. His will doesn't limp."

"Well, I certainly hope he doesn't conside

t final. I don't. I consider it a silly boyand-girl piece of sentimental nonsense

and I shall do everything in my power t

break it up. I consider that my child'

happiness is at stake."


147/467

"Yes," said her husband, "so do I." He go

up and went round to his wife's chair an

put penitent arms about her and comforte

her. After all, he could afford to bemagnanimous. He was going to win hi

point in the end, and meanwhile it woul

be an excellent thing for the youngsters t

have Mildred doing everything in hepretty power to break it up. She might jus

as well, he believed, try to put out th

hearth fire with the bellows.

With her daughter she became motherl

and admonitory in her official thir

person. "Mother wants only you

happiness; you know that, dear."

"Well, then, there's nothing to worry

about," said Honor, comfortably, "for you

want me to be happy and I can't be happ


148/467

unless it's with Jimsy, so you'll have to

want me to have Jimsy, Muzzie!"

"Mother wants real happiness for youHonor, genuine, lasting happiness. That'

why she wants you to be sure. And yo

cannot possibly be sure at your age."

"Yes, I can, Muzzie," said Honor

patiently. "Surer than sure. Why,haven'

always had Jimsy,ever since I can

remember?Before I can remember? He'part of everything that's ever happened t

me. I can't imagine what things would b

ike without him.I won't imagine it!" He

eyes darkened and her mouth grew taut.

"But you'll promise Mother to keep it

secret? You'll promise me faithfully?"


149/467

"Of course, Muzzie, if you want me to, bu

can't see what difference it makes. I'l

never be any surer than I am now,and

can't ever know Jimsy any better than I dnow. Why"she laughed"it isn't as if

had fallen in love at eighteen, with a new

person, some one I'd just met, or some on

'd known only a little while, like Carterf I felt like this about Carter I'd think i

was reasonable to 'wait' and be 'sure.'

She was aware of a new expression o

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Mitchell Ruth Comfort - Play the Game!

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