Ralph Barbour - Right Guard Grant

“Patient my eye,” responded Johnny serenely. “It’ll take more than five years to make aristocrats of the McGraths, for they’re not wanting it. Just the same, Slim, it makes me sick, the way some folks put on side just because they’ve been out of the tenements a few years. I guess the lot of us, and I’m meaning you, too, couldn’t go very many years back before we’d be finding bananas or lead pipe or something ple-bee-an like that hanging on the old family tree!”

“Speak for yourself,” answered Slim with much dignity. “Or speak for the General here. As for the Stapleses, Johnny, I’d have you know that we’re descended from Jeremy Staples, who owned the first inn in Concord, New Hampshire, and who himself served a glass of grog to General George Washington!”

“That would be a long time ago,” said Johnny.

“It would; which is why we can boast of it. If it happened last year we’d be disclaiming any relationship to the old reprobate.”

“McGrath’s right,” said Leonard, smiling but thoughtful. “We’re all descended from trade or something worse. I know a fellow back home whose several-times-great grandfather was a pirate with Stede Bonnet, and his folks are as proud of it as anything. If it isn’t impertinent, McGrath, how did your father make his money?”

“In the War, like so many others. He was a plumber, you see. He’d gone into business for himself a few years before and was doing pretty well. Joe – that’s my oldest brother – was with him. Well, then the War came and Joe read in the paper where they were going to build a big cantonment for the soldiers over in Jersey. ‘Why not try to get the job to put in some of the plumbing?’ says he. ‘Sure, we haven’t a chance,’ says my dad. ‘’Twill be the big fellows as will get that work.’ But Joe got a copy of the specifications, or whatever they’re called, and set down and figured, and finally persuaded the Old Man to take a chance. So they did, and some surprised they were when they were awarded the contract! Dad said it was too big for them and they’d have to give some of it to another, but Joe wouldn’t stand for that. He had a hard time getting money for the bond, or whatever it was the Government wanted, but he did it finally, and they did the job and did it honestly. Their figures were away under the estimate of the other firms, but in spite of that they made themselves rich. Now I say why isn’t dad as much of a gentleman as old Pete Paternos? Sure lead pipe’s as clean as rotten bananas!”

“That’s just the point,” replied Slim. “The rotten bananas are old and the lead pipe’s new. Give the lead pipe another two years, Johnny, and you can slap Paternos on the back and get away with it.”

“I’m more likely to slap him on the head with a crow-bar,” grumbled Johnny. Then: “Say, fellows, want some lemonade?”

“Not for worlds,” answered Slim promptly. “Where is it?”

“I’ll have Dora make a pitcher in a shake of a lamb’s tail,” said Johnny eagerly, as he disappeared. Slim smiled over at Leonard and Leonard smiled back. Then the latter exclaimed protestingly:

“Just the same, he’s a mighty decent sort, Slim!”

“Of course he is,” agreed the other calmly. “I told you that across the street. Johnny’s all right.”

“Well, then, aren’t you – aren’t you afraid of hurting his feelings? Talking to him the way you do, I mean.”

“Not a bit. Johnny knows me, and he knows that what I say is for the good of his soul. We aristocrats, General, have got to make the hoi polloi understand that they can’t shove into our sacred circle off-hand. They’ve got to train for it, old man; work up; go through an initiation.”

Leonard observed Slim in puzzlement and doubt.

“Why,” Slim went on soberly, “what do you suppose old Jeremy Staples would say if he could see me now hob-nobbing with the son of a plumber? The poor old rascal would turn over in his grave, General. Bet you he’d turn over twice!”

“Oh,” said Leonard, “I thought you meant it!”

“Who says I don’t? Ah, that sounds mighty cheerful, Johnny! Sure you didn’t put any arsenic in it? My folks are English on my uncle’s side!”

“I’d not waste good arsenic on the likes of you,” answered Johnny, pouring from a frosted glass pitcher. Followed several moments of deeply appreciative silence during which visitors and host applied themselves to the straws that emerged from the glasses. Then Slim sighed rapturously and held his glass out for more.

“It may be poisoned, Johnny,” he said, “but I’ll take a chance.”

“Are you at Alton?” Leonard asked presently of his host.

“Didn’t I tell you he was?” asked Slim in mild surprise. “He certainly is. Johnny’s the one bright spot on the basket ball team. You’ll never know the poetry of motion, General, until you’ve seen him toss a back-hander into the hoop. The only trouble with him is that, true to his race, he always mistakes a basket ball game for the Battle of the Boyne. At least, I think I mean the Boyne. Do I, Johnny?”

“Maybe. I wasn’t there. Anyhow, you’re giving Grant here a wrong idea of me entirely. I’m the most peaceable lad on the team, Slim Staples, and you know it.”

“I know nothing of the sort,” protested Slim stoutly. “All I do know is that whenever you’re playing the casualties are twice as heavy as when you’re not. Oh, I know you have a foxy way of handing out the wallops, and that the referee seldom catches you at it, but facts are facts, Johnny, and I’m nothing if not factotum.”

“You’re nothing if not insulting,” corrected Johnny. “Why does he call you ‘General?’” he continued of Leonard.

“Why, he hit on that – ” Leonard began.

“Is it possible you never heard of General Grant?” demanded Slim incredulously.

“Oh, that’s it? Well,” as Slim stood up to go and Leonard followed his example, “I’m pleased to have met you. Come again, won’t you? I’ll not be asking Slim, for he’s too insulting.”

“Oh, now that I know where you live and what good lemonade you keep on draught, I’ll come frequently,” said Slim kindly. “Maybe we might drop around next Sunday afternoon about this time, or a little before. You’d better make it a point to have plenty of lemons on hand.”

“Why, if you come we’ll not be without them,” Johnny assured him sweetly.

“Fine! And now, before we go, may we see the pig, Johnny?”

“Sure,” replied the other, relapsing into a rich brogue, “it’s sorry I am, Slim my darlint, but the pig do be havin’ his afthernoon nap in the panthry, and he’d be that angry if I was wakin’ him!”

Going back down the slope of Melrose Avenue Leonard remarked: “He said there were six of them, Slim. Are there other brothers beside the Joe he spoke of?”

“There were,” answered Slim. “There’s one other now, a little chap about twelve. I don’t know his name.”

“What happened to the other brother?”

“Killed in the War,” replied Slim briefly.

“Oh!”

“There was a citation,” added Slim. “Johnny says it’s framed and hanging over his mother’s bed. It’s a lucky thing for the country, General, that it doesn’t have to look up a fellow’s pedigree before it can let him fight; what?”

In spite of Slim’s predictions, Leonard’s calm announcement to Manager Tenney that he was a candidate for guard on the football team occasioned no evident surprise. Considering that within forty-eight hours Tenney had registered the name of a fat and pudgy junior whose consuming ambition was to play quarterback and had listened to the calm assurance of a lathe-like youth that he would be satisfied with nothing save the position of center, the manager’s absence of emotion was not surprising. Anyhow, Leonard was relieved to find that he was not to meet opposition at the outset, and took his place in Squad C quite satisfied. Football practice at Alton Academy differed from the same occupation at Loring Point High School in at least two essentials, he decided. It was more systematic and it was a whole lot more earnest. There was little lost motion during the hour and a half that the candidates occupied the field. You didn’t stand around waiting for the coach to remember your existence and think up a new torture, nor, when the coach was present, did you spend precious minutes in banter. From the moment of the first “Let’s go!” to the final “That’s all, fellows!” you had something to do and did it hard, impressed every instant with the importance of the task set you. Of course, practice was less amusing, less fun here at Alton. There was no social side to the gathering. Even after a week of practice Leonard knew almost none of the fellows he worked with. He did know the names of many, and he had a “Hello” acquaintance with a half-dozen, but there was no time for the social amenities.