Weatherby's Inning
Book Description
Jack Weatherby, on his way out of the gymnasium, paused before the bulletin-board in the little drafty hall and read the call.
"That�s next Monday," he muttered. "All right, I�ll be there."
Then, putting a shoulder against the big oak door, he pushed his way out on to the granite steps and stood there a moment in scowling contemplation of the cheerless scene. Before him the board-walk ...
MoreJack Weatherby, on his way out of the gymnasium, paused before the bulletin-board in the little drafty hall and read the call.
"That�s next Monday," he muttered. "All right, I�ll be there."
Then, putting a shoulder against the big oak door, he pushed his way out on to the granite steps and stood there a moment in scowling contemplation of the cheerless scene. Before him the board-walk was almost afloat in a shallow rivulet of melted snow that filled the gravel-path from side to side. A few steps away the path ended at the Washington Street gate in a veritable lake. The crossing was inches deep in water[2] and the Common was a dismal waste of pools and streams out of which the soldiers� monument reared itself as though agonizedly searching for a dry spot to which to move. There was an incessant and monotonous dripping and trickling and gurgling as the snow, which two days before had covered the ground to a depth of over a foot, disappeared as by magic under the breath of an unseasonable south wind. The sky was leaden and lowering, and against it the bare branches of the numberless elm-trees swayed complainingly. The Common and so much of the college grounds as was in sight were deserted. Altogether it was a dispiriting prospect that met Jack�s eyes, and one little likely to aid him in the task of fighting the "blues," which had oppressed him all day.
He went listlessly down the steps, heroically striving to whistle a tune. But the tune had died out ere the sidewalk was reached. He looked with misgiving from the crossing to his shoes-shoes which even when new had been scarcely adapted to wet weather-and after a moment of hesitation gave up the idea of taking the usual short cut across the Common, and went on down Washington Street. As he began to pick his way gingerly across the wet pavement at the corner of Elm Street, two men ran down the steps of a boarding-house. They were talking in high, excited tones, and[3] Jack could hear them until they had gone some distance toward the railroad.
"The water�s away up to the road, they say," one of them declared loudly, "and it�s still rising. They�re afraid the bridge�ll go. There�s a lot of ice coming down."
"Should think it might go," said the other. "The old thing looks as though you could push it over if you tried."
"Yes, don�t it? Let�s get a move on. We had a flood once up home that--"
Then a heavy gust of wind, sweeping around the corner of the tumble-down livery-stable, drowned the conversation. Jack paused and silently weighed the respective attractions of a dark and not overcomfortable room in the green-shuttered house a few steps away, and a swollen river which might, if there was any such thing as good luck-which he had begun to doubt-sweep away the tottering old wooden bridge. Well, his feet were already wet, and so- He retraced his steps to the corner and went on down Washington Street in the wake of the others. They were a block or so ahead, splashing their thick boots through all kinds of puddles. They were evidently the best of friends, for one kept his hand on the other�s shoulder. Once the prankish wind bore a scrap of merry laughter[4] up the street, and Jack, plodding along behind, wary of puddles, as befits a fellow who is wearing his only pair of winter shoes, heard it and felt gloomier and more forlorn than ever.
Publisher | |
Binding | Kindle Edition (12 editions) |
Reading Level | Uncategorized
|
# of Pages | 276 |
ISBN-10 | B00J7R1J66 |
Publication Date | 03/23/2014 |
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