Chapter 13

MR. MACKERLY REVIVES AND GRANT ATTEMPTS TO SEND ALAN TO COVENTRY.

The sudden collapse of Mr. Mackerly, while in conversation with his son, was a great shock to the latter, who could scarcely believe that the news he had just been relating should have such an extraordinary effect upon his imperious and lofty father. Was it possible that the statements at which he had scoffed had some plausibility, and that there was a grain of hidden truth in the charge brought by his rival, Alan Heathcote? There was no mistaking the fact that something external had caused the magnate's startling indisposition, and Grant, even though he was badly scared at his father's plight, drew his own conclusions in regard to the matter. Meanwhile he stood helplessly calling until he collected presence of mind enough to go around to the other side of the table and raise his father's inanimate form to a more comfortable position.

"Help! Help!" he cried distractedly. "Father's dying! Aunt Annie! James!"

He was warranted in his belief that his parent was breathing his last, for his face was of a deathly pallor, and to Grant's inexperienced eye this was a symptom of the gravest import, and he gave his father up for lost immediately.

He did not stand long alone in his helplessness, for in another moment James, the butler, and Grant's Aunt Annie came hurrying in. They both took in the situation at a glance, and while the first mentioned opened the window, in order to admit the fresh cold air, the latter bathed his temples with water and cologne.

Mr. Mackerly had fallen into a swoon of unusual severity, and the process of reviving him was slow and tedious. It was nearly a half hour before he was strong enough to speak to them.

"Shall I send for a doctor?" inquired his sister anxiously.

"No, by no means," he feebly replied. "It's one of my ordinary fainting spells. I've had them before. I'll--I'll be all right in a few minutes. Lay me on the couch in the library and--let me alone. What time is it?"

"Nearly half-past seven," answered his sister.

"Where is Grant?" was his next query.

"Here I am, father," and his son stepped before him. "What's wanted?"

"Come to the library at eight o'clock. I want to speak to you. I will be much better then. Don't forget."

Grant promised, and with the help of the butler and the gardener his father was carried to the library and placed upon a couch, where he was left by himself in spite of his sister's expostulations.

She was a widow, as Mr. Mackerly was a widower, and they made their home together in that magnificent residence on the hill back of Whipford.

Promptly on the chime of eight, Grant marched into the library, and found his father, pale but steady, seated at the secretary, busily examining a heterogenous mass of papers.

"Are you better, father?" he asked, solicitously.

"Don't you see I am?" was the cross response. "That spell was only temporary. I am afraid of them, as they are coming on more frequently. Doctor Sedgwick tells me I must take more exercise or I'll fall sick in earnest."

"I thought you took plenty," said Grant, guardedly.

His father did not seem to hear his remark, but went on searching busily among the papers. Grant grew impatient and asked:

"Well, what do you want of me, father?"

"Oh, yes, I did ask you to come in, Grant, didn't I?" he replied, as if just recollecting the fact. "Why, what were we talking about when that dizzy feeling came over me? Do you remember the conversation?"

"Why, of course," replied the son, considerably astonished at his parent's alleged forgetfulness. "It was about that little affair between Alan Heathcote and myself. Just as I told you he denied his father owed you anything, you fainted, and I hadn't a chance to finish. You--"

"Oh, I remember!" interrupted Mr. Mackerly. "You told me he stated that he had an envelope containing papers, didn't you?"

"Not that I know of," answered Grant. "I never said anything about an envelope, and he didn't, either. He said he had papers to prove that you owed his father money, and that's all. There was something more about witnesses--just what it was I don't recollect."

"Well, you had quite a wordy quarrel. What else did he say?"

The tone of anxiety with which this was asked was but barely concealed.

"Oh, all sorts of tough things, together with that little imp, Dick Percy!" responded Grant, bluntly. "But I gave them as good as I got, and don't you mistake. Pretty soon that big chump Teddy Taft came up and put in his say, and, as I couldn't stand up against three, I took my leave."

"From what you say, this Heathcote boy is a determined fellow, is he not?" inquired Mr. Mackerly, toying with a paper-cutter.

"Bull-headed, I call him," was his son's vindictive reply. "He's no gentleman, and I've told him so. What makes me so mad is that Cole and Mr. Nicholson have put me off the eleven, and put him in my place. Him! He can't play football, the country jay!"

"It's favoritism, that's what it is," remarked Mr. Mackerly, shortly.

He had heard rumors of the matter in the village, but held his counsel.

"They can do as they please," asserted his son; "but if I don't make that fellow sick, my name's not what it is, that's all. The idea of him saying he had proof that you were a rascal. It's a mean, bold lie, and he ought to be drummed out of school."

"You have my authority for branding it as a malicious falsehood," said his father, "and if it is repeated, I shall take measures to have young Heathcote punished. But don't say anything of it, Grant, until some one informs you. You needn't take the trouble to deny it if he hasn't told anybody. Perhaps he has been afraid to spread the tale among the boys at Whipford."

"I guess he was afraid of the licking he knew he'd get from me," said Grant, vauntingly; "so I don't think he's told anything like that."

It was for another reason unknown to him that Alan had kept silent--because Beniah Evans had cautioned him to that effect--and not that he feared the vain-glorious Grant.

"Well," remarked the magnate, "that may be. I hope he has kept a close tongue in his head for his own good, if nothing else. It will save him trouble. Go and tell James to pack my grip," he directed, suddenly, as he scattered the raft of papers with a quick move of his arm and closed and locked the secretary. "Hurry up. I must catch that ten o'clock train."

"Where are you going this time of night?" asked Grant, who, though used to his father's absences, and caring little whether he was home or abroad, felt somewhat curious as to this rapid determination to travel.

"I'm going to Philadelphia and then possibly further south to see a man on very important business," responded Mr. Mackerly. "I am restless and can't stay at home. I originally did not intend to start until next week, but I've changed my mind."

"But you aren't well. What will Aunt Annie say?"

"She needn't know," was the short reply. Then, hastily, "You run and get the buggy out for me, and I'll call the butler. I must catch that ten o'clock train at the Junction at all hazards. Stop at O'Brien's house and tell him to come and drive me over. If he isn't there, James will have to try his hand at the reins."

Grant hastened to obey his father's directions, and in the space of a few minutes the team was ready, with O'Brien, the stable-man, and Mr. Mackerly as its occupants; and soon they were out of sight in the darkness, speeding for the train.

"There's something up, that's dead sure!" soliloquized Grant, as he stood in the doorway. "Father's never in all that hurry for nothing. I wonder what the racket is? I'll go a fiver that it has something to do with that Heathcote matter. He's a perfect nuisance, and I hope father will squelch him this time, once and for all, the booby!"

Soon dismissing his father's departure from his mind, Grant went up to his room and retired to bed.

The next morning he went over to the Hall very early, considering his past record, and was one of the first to take his seat in the assembly room.

Archer and Shriver, with whom he desired to speak, were somewhat tardy, and he got no chance to address them until the end of the first recitation.

"Hello, Grant!" called the former. "Where've you been all the time? Haven't seen you for an age."

"Been up at the house," replied Grant, briefly. "Any practice to-day, George?"

"Yes," answered Shriver; "at half-past twelve. You're with Wilcox on the second eleven. Sorry that Heathcote dished you out of half-back, but it can't be helped. I took Runyon's place, and he was angry at first, but he came up to-day and shook hands with me like a little man, and said he hoped I would get along first rate, and that he'd try and oust me next year. He's one of the substitutes this year, and you are to play substitute half-back with Wilcox."

"I am, am I?" growled Grant, sneeringly. "Who says so?"

"Cole gave it out last night," put in Lewis Archer, "so it's settled."

"It's not settled as far as I am concerned," declared the turned-down player, firmly. "I play on the regular team or not at all. That's my proper place, and no miserable upstart like Alan Heathcote is going to crow over me."

"Well, what are you going to do about it?" asked Archer, with a careless drawl.

Grant Mackerly was steadily dropping from the high place, he once held in his estimation, and every action now exhibited his selfishness to Archer, who, with all his laziness, was a boy of fine feelings.

"Why, let's boycott him altogether," said Grant, eagerly. "Let's put all the fellows against him and show him up for just what he is. If he sees nobody speaks to him he'll soon come down from his high horse. What do you say to it, fellows?"

Instead of making any immediate reply in words, his companions at first gave him looks of incredulity and amazement, and then burst into loud peals of laughter. It was some time before they sobered down.

"What?" demanded Shriver. "Boycott Alan Heathcote? Send him to Coventry? Ha! ha! Why, you'd have the heaviest contract on your hands you ever had in your life. It's all nonsense."

"There's not a fellow in the whole school who would be fool enough to join you," said Archer, plainly and in disgust. "Why, you might as well try that scheme on Cole or Mr. Nicholson. No, no, my dear boy, that plan of yours won't work. The fellows, as a rule, like Heathcote pretty well. He attends to his own business, stands well in his class, or will when the next exam. takes place, and to add to it all he's as fleet of foot as a deer on the foot-ball field; so you would be the solitary duck in the puddle if you tried to freeze him out."

Grant Mackerly listened to these responses of his friends in silence. Then his face assumed a determined look, and without another word to either of them he turned away and walked quickly out of the door to the campus and disappeared among the trees.

"Mad as a hornet," observed Archer, carelessly.

"He'll cool down by to-morrow," remarked Shriver.

And they went into the recitation-room talking it over.