The Freshman (Holman)/Chapter 13
The pretentious ballroom of the Hotel Tate was aglow with light, youth and color. Tate pennants, interspersed with rectangular banners bearing the legends "Tate 1928" and "Tate 1929," decorated the walls. The Tate colors, red and white, looped from all sides of the ceiling in streamers to the huge crystal chandelier in the center. From behind skillfully concealing palms in one corner of the big room came the shuffling, syncopated din of Jergens' Jazz Jongleurs. And out on the shiny, glassy smooth floor danced the chivalry and beauty of Tate, crowded, gay, and a little rowdyish. The more adventuresome of the couples were dancing the "Charleston," that hilarious, joint-twisting novelty imported from the Negro dance dives of Birmingham and New Orleans and sweeping the country like an epidemic.
The Fall Frolic. The crowning achievement of "'Speedy' the Spender." And everybody was there but "Speedy"!
"It's after ten o'clock. I wonder what can be keeping 'Speedy'?" was the question of the hour.
Dan Sheldon, who had been substituting for Harold by receiving the guests at the ballroom door, was as mystified as anybody by the Freshman's unaccounted absence. Dan stood for a lot of good-natured chaffing. He was feeling fine. Wasn't the goat of the evening his discovery?
To his pal Garrity, Dan confided, "Estabrook must have handed 'Speedy' the bill in advance, and 'Speedy' probably dropped dead."
From her place behind the counter at the gentlemen's wardrobe near the cigar stand, Peggy Sayre was worried too. She continued receiving coats and hats and handing out checks to the tuxedo-attired males. And she kept on monotonously intoning to their female companions, "Ladies' cloakroom upstairs and to the right." But she was holding a weather eye out for Harold and—Grace Beach. What ever had become of him? There was only one possible reason for his lateness, she decided, that tuxedo! She was, as usual, right, Harold Lamb, minus coat and trousers, was at that moment hopping nervously from one foot to the other in the dimly lighted tailor shop of Morris Hertz waiting for his $38.50 tuxedo suit to be finished.
The tailor himself, harassed and perspiring in every pore, was wielding his needle with a fast, furious but clumsy hand. He had been enjoying a rapid succession of dizzy spells during the past week, delaying the work. He had warned Harold that another spell would surely come on if the Freshman did not stop berating him and fidgeting.
Harold glanced at his watch for the hundredth time. Ten o'clock.
"Where's the telephone?" he asked the tailor wildly.
Hertz pointed it out, half concealed under a heap of trousers waiting to be dry cleaned. Harold called Grace Beach's number.
"Well, it's about time!" came her unmistakably irritated accents over the wire.
"Listen, Miss Beach," Harold explained nervously. "I'm unexpectedly delayed. An accident. I can't come for you for half an hour or so. I'm terribly sorry. But it isn't my fault—really. I tell you what you do. No use your missing any of the fun. Call up the taxi man out in front of the Tate. 126 is the number. Have him come around for you and take you to the Frolic. I'll pay the bill. Then I'll hurry along as soon as I can and meet you there."
"That's a pretty way to go to a dance, isn't it?" Grace said sarcastically. But she decided to make the best of it. Yes, she would call the taxi. Harold clapped up the receiver and mopped his brow.
He walked hurriedly back to the tailor and stood over him glowering and worried.
"With the whole college waiting, you pick out a day like this for dizzy spells!" berated "Speedy."
Morris Hertz, perspiring and harassed, bit a final thread off and hastily turned over the tuxedo coat and trousers to his irate customer. With an exclamation of relief, Harold thrust a leg into the new garment and then another.
"I only had time to baste the suit. So be careful. It's just loosely stitched together," warned the tailor, made uneasy by the violent haste with which Harold was donning the suit.
Harold fastened suspenders to the trousers and flung them over his shoulders. The legs were too long, but he couldn't help that now. He picked the longest of the white threads off. He plunged into the coat and transferred his money and watch rapidly from his street clothes.
"Easy—easy—EASY," begged Morris Hertz. Then as Harold, snatching up his hat, bounded out of the door, the tailor turned his anxiety about the suit into action.
"I'd better go with you in case anything happens," Morris Hertz shouted after the retreating form of Harold. The tailor snatched up needle and thread and started out into University Street after the speeding Freshman.
When Harold reached the street, there was not a sign of a conveyance in sight. He commenced at once to walk and covered the half mile between Hertz's and the Hotel Tate in record time. He stopped only at the florist shop near the hotel to buy a bouquet of flowers for Peggy Sayre. Even in his excitement about his tuxedo and his uncertainty as to the garment's durability, he was thinking of Peggy. He was more disappointed than he would admit even to himself that she was not to be his partner at the Frolic. Any faint resentment he might recently have held against her had vanished. He wanted to do something for Peggy that would show this. He wanted to give her something that would make her feel that she was part of the Frolic too, something that would give a hint of the deep regard he had for her. So he took some time and money and bought her a modest bouquet.
Meantime, Peggy was genuinely worried. She had seen Grace Beach arrive, alone. She had observed Delphine Smythe stroll laughingly in, accompanied by Leonard Trask and Joe Bartlett. But there was no sign of Harold!
Then, at quarter to eleven, he came racing in, to her infinite relief. At once he bustled up to her.
"Hello, Peggy," he greeted her. "Think I'd never get here? Neither did I. Hertz got sick and my clothes weren't done." He calmed down a little and added somewhat shyly, "And here's something I got for you. If I can't have you for a partner, I can at least show you I'm thinking about you."
She was more pleased than she could tell him. She pressed her pretty face into the flowers and inhaled their fragrance. She looked tenderly over them at Harold and smiled.
"Thank you ever so much, Harold," she said simply. "I love flowers. And I appreciate your thoughtfulness."
He gazed back at her, his deep regard for her showing in his candid blue eyes. In that moment he had a wish just to stay there with Peggy, to bask in her loveliness, to forget the dance.
But in the next moment Dan Sheldon had discovered him. Hustling up to "Speedy" the Sophomore greeted him effusively. Dan clapped upon the head of the Freshman one of the elaborate cone-shaped paper hats with streamers that many of the other guests were wearing. He led Harold out of the lobby to the entrance to fairyland.
"All hail our host!" Dan cried loudly to the dancers, indicating Harold.
Instantly the crowd came surging up to them, warm, laughing.
"All hail our host!" cried the dancers.
Harold was delighted. He did not realize they were mocking him.
He stood surrounded with shouting, grinning faces. The lion of the hour! If this didn't make him more popular even than Chester Trask, nothing would! Then they were pulling and hawling at him again. Something gave way along the back seam of Harold's new tuxedo. A look of dismay started into his face. But it disappeared as he felt a needle directed by a skillful hand at once pierce the cloth at the point it had given way. He glanced around to discover, to his surprise, Morris Hertz making rapid and secret repairs. Morris, having followed Harold all the way to the Frolic, was now proving a rescuing angel. Harold at once started shouting and bantering with everybody in sight.
Grace Beach emerged from the crowd, thinking it time to show the world that she hadn't come alone to the Frolic after all. Smiling her best, she approached Harold rapidly and, seizing his hand, jerked him smartly toward the ballroom floor. Hertz, still clinging to the Freshman's coat, was tumbled in a heap against a potted palm plant. The plant went crashing to the floor. So did Hertz. But in the excitement nobody paid any particular attention to the tailor or his fall.
Then Harold had Grace in his arms and they were out on the ballroom floor dancing. Jergens' Jazz Jongleurs were rendering their special version of "Freshie," a new collegiate fox trot. Around him were women's white shoulders. Slicked-up youths. Bright colors and lights. Joy unconfined.
On their second turn around the crowded floor, Harold noticed the anxious face of Morris Hertz peering out from behind a curtain that was part of the ballroom's decorations. One of the tables, on which refreshments would be served later, was located just in front of the curtain. From this Hertz had managed to secure the little push-bell used for summoning the waiter. He wiggled a hand to Harold, who caught sight of him from behind Grace's shoulder. Harold maneuvered his partner over toward Hertz's hiding place. Dancing deftly around in front of the curtain so that he was always within earshot of the concealed Hertz, the Freshman learned the reason for the tailor's signaling.
"If anything rips, I'll ring this bell," Hertz explained hoarsely. Harold nodded and danced away.
An instant later this clever precaution of the tailor's almost caused Harold heart failure. For as the Freshman and his rather awkwardly dancing consort cavorted quite near to the row of tables, a bell rang out. Harold looked at once toward the curtain concealing Hertz, but all was quiet there. Then "Speedy" gazed cautiously around in other quarters and discovered, to his relief, that Leonard Trask, seated at a near-by table with Delphine, had pushed the bell in the effort to divert their way some of the refreshments that would soon be served.
But as the music stopped and the dancers, disengaging themselves from their partners, started to adjourn to the tables, there came catastrophe for the eager "Speedy."
He had given Grace his arm and, striving to chat with her and apologize for his delay in arriving, had walked with her toward a vacant table. But now she suddenly saw Leonard Trask and Delphine on the other side of the room and wanted to hurry over to them through the crowds still blocking the floor. Abruptly she pulled her arm out from under Harold's. And his right coat-sleeve, already weakened at the shoulder by his strenuous dancing, came with Grace's arm. It caught on a hook in the back of the college widow's dress.
Totally unconscious of the damage she had wrought and of the fact that she was retaining her escort's coat sleeve, Grace tripped rapidly through the mob in the direction of Delphine. Harold, in an agony of embarrassment, striving to ignore the surprised smiles of the people as he passed, hurried after her. Passing Jergens' Jazz Jongleurs, temporarily resting on their little raised platform from their labors, he spotted what he thought at first was his missing sleeve. Had Grace dropped it by accident? He snatched at the piece of black cloth lying near the orchestra platform and pulled it over his white shirt sleeve. Then he discovered that it was the protective cloth cover on the slide trombone.
Finally, in the maze, he located Grace laughing and chatting with some friends. Hoping to cause as little trouble as possible, he yanked his missing sleeve from her dress, where she still innocently held it, and made off without a word. Thus he did not see her turn sharply to the young man standing beside her and slap him soundly in the face for what she esteemed his impertinence for snatching at her dress!
Pushing the loose sleeve surreptitiously back into place, Harold, now red-faced and perspiring, sought the attentions of Morris Hertz. Reaching the curtain behind which he had last seen the tailor, he found Hertz's tousled head poked out anxiously in search of him.
"Get back and sew this sleeve on," Harold said in a low, rapid voice. Then, observing Dan Sheldon headed his way, he added, "I'll stand outside here and poke my arm in to you."
One of Harold's arms was thus submitting to the tailor's first-aid administrations when dapper Dan came hurrying up to his host.
"'Speedy,' old pal, can you let me have ten dollars?" Sheldon requested breezily. "We've got to tip some of these waiters and attendants around here."
"But—I thought my contract covered all the extras," Harold started to protest.
"Now, now, 'Speedy,' don't turn piker at this late hour—after you've pulled such a whale of a party," soothed and warned Dan.
But Harold turned obstinate. He did not intend to give Dan the money.
He had not, however, reckoned upon Morris Hertz. The tailor had overheard the conversation. He thought Harold was hesitating because he could not reach his pocket. So Morris, wishing to oblige, himself extracted a bill from the Freshman's trouser pocket. Hertz then thrust his own hand with the money out from the curtain and into the extended paw of Dan Sheldon. Harold looked down in surprise. To his dismay he discovered that the tailor had delivered a twenty-dollar bill to Dan! He could not allow that. He must get it back. He waited until Dan turned to speak to a girl who had come up to him. Then Harold reached over and deftly lifted the money from the Sophomore's vest pocket, where the latter had carelessly pushed it.
The girl who had attracted the attention of the unfortunate Sheldon proved to be Grace Beach. She had been hob-nobbing with Joe Bartlett and Leonard Trask and others. She was feeling rather kittenish. She now came gayly up to Harold and seized his free hand.
"Let's go and eat, Harold," she cried. "I'm starved!"
She attempted to pull him away. But Morris Hertz, from behind the curtain, held fast. Harold, hardly knowing what to do, nervously ran his fingers up and down the side of his trousers. With fatal effect! For the thread at which he was agitatedly plucking was the basting cord holding together his trouser leg. As he pulled at it, he felt a cool breeze strike his bare flesh. He looked down in sudden horror, hoping against hope. But in vain. His gartered leg was exposed to the world!
Grace had taken a seat at the table near the curtain. Harold hastily sank down opposite her. His damaged sleeve had been repaired and he now thrust his uncovered leg in for Hertz's busy attentions.
"Are you having a good time?" Grace asked him curiously.
"Why—yes," he answered.
"You don't look it," she observed. "You look tired and worried."
"A fellow can't be host at the Frolic and not think about it a little bit," Harold offered loftily.
But he stopped talking abruptly and almost fell out of his chair as Hertz pricked his bare flesh viciously. An instant later Harold actually did sink to the floor as a dead weight suddenly struck the leg that was back of the curtain. Without stopping to explain to Grace, he jumped up and rushed around the curtain. As he had expected, Morris Hertz had chosen this psychological moment to indulge in one of his dizzy spells!
By the time Harold bent over him, however, the tailor was recovering.
"I'd be all right if I only could get a little drink," the ill man mumbled.
Harold hesitated. He had observed glints of silver out there on the ballroom floor when tuxedo coat-tails occasionally were flipped up over hip pockets in the gyrations of the "Charleston." The music had started up again. The guests were dancing. He would see what he could do.
He returned to Grace and suggested, "Let's dance a while till the food comes."
She agreed rather reluctantly. She was hungry and Harold's dancing was not the sort one starves for. But she decided to be agreeable. The floor was as crowded as ever, Harold saw to his satisfaction. He must lift a flask from some unsuspecting dancer's hip pocket. It would not be stealing. It would be for the purpose of saving somebody's life. After several misadventures he succeeded in getting possession of one of the precious containers. As he did so, he almost dropped it again. Standing near him on the side lines was Chester Trask, whom Harold now saw for the first time that evening. He watched Chester anxiously and then decided that the football captain had not observed his feat.
He would have dashed up and spoken to Chester had he not feared the tailor would suffer a relapse.
Retreating toward the curtain again, with a hastily muttered excuse to Grace, he slipped the flask to Hertz and was pleased to see it result in a complete recovery. The tailor completed the job on Harold's trouser leg and the Freshman rejoined Grace, who was tapping her foot impatiently and looking annoyed indeed. This was certainly the worst jumping-jack of a partner she had ever been blessed with!
In another second he was off again!
For his eyes had turned in the direction of Peggy Sayre's counter. He had seen her pluck a daisy from the bouquet he had brought to her and play the ancient game of "He loves me, he loves me not" with it. He danced slowly around in the same spot observing her expectantly. She pulled the last petal. It said—"He loves me." Peggy buried her pretty face in Harold's flowers and kissed them.
That was enough for Harold. He dashed out through the crowds joyously toward her, the wonderful news ringing in his mind that Peggy loved him! Nearing her counter, he slowed down and approached her stealthily.
Her face was still buried in the flowers. Harold Lamb smiled and forgot his troubles. A great warmth spread inside of him. Peggy loved him! He slipped behind her counter and, without her suspecting his presence, swept her into his arms. He smothered her gasp with a kiss. When he released her, he smiled into her horrified face. Her fright disappeared as she recognized him. She blushed and buried her face in his shoulder.
"Do you like me that much, Peggy?" he whispered to her, still holding her in his arms.
He did not want to leave her. He just wanted to stay there and talk to Peggy and bask in her loveliness. He slipped up upon the turnstile bar fencing off the cloakroom entrance from the main part of the lobby. He swung back and forth there for an instant.
Then suddenly came a sharp voice like the crack of doom. So suddenly and unexpectedly that Harold, startled, lost his balance, fell backward and just caught himself in time to avoid landing on his head on the floor. He escaped a bad tumble, but the shock and fall had jerked the loosely fastened suspender buttons from the back of his trousers!
To add to his worries, he now looked up to find Grace Beach, red of face and ireful, standing on the other side of the counter and almost shrieking, "So this is what you left me to do!"
"As for you, young lady, I'll report you at once," she snapped at Peggy.
"You'll do nothing of the kind. We're—we're engaged. Aren't we, Peggy?" retorted Harold promptly.
But Peggy was silent.
"Well, you're certainly the gentlemanly host," Grace turned upon Harold. "First you keep me waiting half the night. Then you sneak away to kiss coat-room attendants. I'm through with you, Mr. 'Speedy' Lamb. Joe Bartlett has offered to act as my escort for the rest of the evening, and I've accepted. He's at least a gentleman. Good night."
"GOOD NIGHT!" cried Harold with an unexpected flash of spirit. Peggy secretly applauded.
Then a young whirlwind of femininity came whisking in and, laying hold of Harold, jerked him away from Peggy. Dan Sheldon had dared his girl, a wild little flapper from Miss Davis's Select School, in North Tate, to rush "Speedy" and drag him back to the dance floor. The flapper was overdoing it. She yanked him with all the strength of her lithe young body, yanked him until the rest of the frail buttons holding his trousers to his suspenders snapped with a sickening crack. Helpless though protesting, he was pulled madly out upon the floor into the presence of the snickering Tatians.
His trousers were falling. He made wild clutches at them suspenders slipped down his back, his legs and onto the floor. They became mixed up with the feet of the dancers, embarrassing the girls and astounding the men.
Then calamity followed swiftly upon calamity for Harold. He edged over toward a table and picked up a fork as he danced by. He intended to hold his trousers to his dress shirt with this utensil if possible. He caught the fork into a button hole at the back. But unfortunately the fork was caught to the tablecloth also. Off came the tablecloth laden with ice cream, candy, demi-tasse cups and water glasses!
A waiter came bustling up, attracted by the crash, and seized the tablecloth. When, forked to Harold's trousers, it would not come for him, the waiter jerked at it. This was too much for the loosely basted seams of the Freshman's pants. Off came the whole rear section! The waiter disappeared with the tablecloth and the torn portion of the trousers out through a back door. Harold, attempting to follow him, clutched at his own waist in the back in a wild endeavor to keep his pants up. They fell down in front!
In a panic he started to rush through the crowd. Dancers roared, shouted, squealed. Then realizing the situation—that their host was arrayed in a trick tuxedo and had been waging an unsuccessful battle to conceal the fact all evening—they fell upon him. They snatched at his clothes. They wanted souvenirs. His coat parted. The rest of his trousers were pulled off. Arrayed only in his underwear, dress shirt and the sleeves of his missing coat, he fled crazily from the room.
Through the pandemonium rolled the syncopated din of Jergens' Jazz Jongleurs.
Into the lobby of the Tate Harold rushed pell-mell. The nearest refuge offered was a telephone booth. He darted into this retreat and slammed the door after him. For a moment he leaned against the inside of the booth recovering his breath and his sanity. After a time he realized he could not stay there all night. But what to do?
Harold looked hopefully about. He saw a bell boy come whistling down the lobby bearing a tuxedo suit on his arm from the hotel valet shop and destined for a roomer. The trousers were resting temptingly on the careless youth's arm. Harold resolved upon a desperate chance. As the messenger passed, the Freshman opened the telephone booth door a little, darted a hand out and caught the coat and trousers deftly without the bellboy seeing him.
Inside the booth Harold inspected his loot. He tried them on. They were a trifle small, but otherwise they fitted perfectly. He made a silent prayer for forgiveness. Twice a thief in the same night! But each time surely for an excellent cause.
Observing to his relief that the new trousers were tight enough around the waist to stay up without belt or suspenders, he stepped out of the booth and resolved to tell Peggy of his cleverness in escaping from dire disaster.