# The Purple Pennant/Chapter 18

DICK was just leaving the house when the boys arrived there that evening, and Eli Yale was awaiting him at the curb, but he instantly offered to return. Since the evening had turned cool, they went inside, seating themselves in the little room to the right that was at once parlor, living-room, library and Dick's study.
It was a comfortable, homelike little room, with a big table by the front windows whereat Dick studied and conducted his affairs, a smaller one, in the center of the warmly-hued carpet, flanked by two easy chairs,—one of which, a deeply tufted leather affair, was Dick's especial property,—a couch covered with a gaily colored Afghan robe, two book-cases, an old-fashioned foot-rest, more chairs and, curled up on one of them, a fluffy smoke-gray cat. Between the book-shelves was a fireplace and on the marble ledge above, a brass-​dialed, ebony-cased clock ticked with dignified deliberation, keeping perfect time with the purring of Lady Gray. On the big table a green-shaded student lamp threw a pleasant light over the neat piles of books and papers. There was little that was either new or expensive in the room, but everything, from the oldest side-chair to the few pictures on the walls, proclaimed friendliness and comfort.
Fudge was the spokesman, and he managed to tell his story with commendable brevity, although he could not help embroidering it with a few harmless frills. Dick was interested at once. If he suspected that he was not being told quite all there was to tell, he made no sign. When Fudge had reached a slightly breathless but triumphant conclusion Dick nodded. "I'll be glad to speak to Louise," he said, "and to the others as well. I don't believe that Mr. Brent is employing any surveyors just now, for I think he has done all he is going to do on the addition at present. There's talk of re-locating the trolley line that runs over to Sterling and I believe he is not going to do anything more until that has been settled. But we'll do what we can, Fudge, the lot of us. If it's as bad as you say with this chap, he ought to have some work given him. Do you suppose he ​can do anything else if there's no engineering just now?"
"He can run a livery stable," said Fudge doubtfully.
"And punch cattle," added Perry.
"I'm afraid there isn't much chance of his getting a job at cattle-punching in Clearfield," Dick laughed. "All right, fellows, I'll speak about it this evening. I was just going to run over to the Brents' when you came. Look me up to-morrow and I'll tell you what the result is."
They took their departure, highly satisfied, and Dick sped away in Eli. When he reached Brentwood he found Louise and Lanny in absorbed discussion of the Track Trophy. Louise Brent was a tall, blue-eyed girl of fifteen, with a fair skin and much yellow-brown hair. She was attractive more on account of her expression than her features. Dick was made welcome and Lanny explained about the trophy, and the three laid plans and drew sketches for the better part of an hour. Louise was enthusiastic and promised to interest the other girls at once. "You just wait, Lanny," she said.
"It's going to be the most scrumptious pennant you ever saw. We'll get Lila Abbey to do the laurel wreath part. She's perfectly wonderful at that sort of thing. Oughtn't we to put it on a stick?"
​"I suppose so. And tie it with purple ribbons, eh?"
"Of course." Louise reflected, tapping a pencil against her white teeth. "It isn't going to be awfully easy, but we'll do it all right. When ought we to have it done?"
"Why, I guess there's no hurry. Any time before the Springdale meet will do, I think."
"Better have it on exhibition a week or so in one of the windows down town," suggested Dick.
"We can have it done in two weeks, I'm certain," said Louise. "I'll get a whole lot of the girls around here some afternoon and we'll work on it. And—and it's supposed to be our idea entirely, you say, Lanny?"
"Yes, we thought it would be better like that. You needn't tell the others that we know anything about it. Just sort of give them to understand that it's your idea and that Guy and the rest of us are tickled to death with it."
"I wouldn't want to pretend I thought of it," replied Louise, "because, of course, I didn't, but I don't suppose anyone will ask who did think of it. What we ought to do, first of all, I guess, is to make a pattern of it so as to get it just the right size."
"Ought to have a drawing made, I'd say," re​marked Dick, "so you'll know just where the lettering goes and all that."
"Oh, dear, you're just trying to make it harder!" sighed Louise. "You're quite right, though; only I'm sure I don't know who could do it. I know I couldn't. Could you, Lanny?"
"Great Scott, no! I can't draw a straight line."
"Oh, you'll find someone," said Dick reassuringly. "Or," struck by a sudden thought, "I'll tell you what, Louise. There's a chap here in town, a civil engineer named Addicks, who would probably be glad to make a drawing of the thing. I was going to speak to you about him later. He's out of work and having rather a hard time of it. Fudge and Perry Hull came to see me this evening just before I left the house and told me about him. The two kids were quite excited; wanted me to see you and ask you to try and get your father to give him some work. Philanthropy's rather a new stunt for Fudge, but he made out a bully case for the chap; got me all wrought up about him! Fudge says he has a room in that block where Ginter's Bakery is and cooks his own meals there and is frightfully hard up."
"The poor man!" said Louise.
"Yes, according to Fudge, he lives on sausages and bread and coffee."
​"Sausages aren't bad," said Lanny judicially. "Getting a bit late for them, though. If I were he, I'd switch to lamb chops."
"Don't be horrid," said Louise. "Of course I'll ask papa, Dick. And I'll just insist on his finding something for the poor man to do. I dare say papa knows the railroad people well enough to get them to give him work."
"The railroad people?" asked Dick.
"Yes, you said he was an engineer, didn't you?"
"Civil engineer, not railway, Louise."
"Oh! That's different, isn't it? Civil engineers survey things, don't they?"
"Correct," replied Lanny. "Have you forgotten the famous poem written by a civil engineer? Something about 'I'm monarch of all I survey; My right there is none to dispute'; remember?"
"That was Cowper," replied Louise scathingly. "And he was a poet, not a civil engineer."
"Oh, all right! Of the two I'd rather be the engineer, though, and live on sausages."
"Lanny, you're crazy in the head," laughed Dick.
"He's just silly," corrected Louise. "Papa has a good deal of surveying done, I think, Dick, and I'm sure he could find some for this Mister——"
"Addicks is the name," prompted Dick. "I wish ​you'd ask him, anyway. I suppose he isn't in this evening?"
"No, he and mamma went out to make a call. Maybe he will be back before you go, though."
"Does he usually stay out until midnight?" said Lanny innocently. Louise blushed a little.
"You're quite horrid this evening," she charged. "If you want me to make that pennant for you, you'd better behave yourself."
"I'll do the nicest thing I know," returned Lanny sweetly. "I'll go home!"
The next afternoon Clearfield played Fernwood High School on the diamond and beat the visiting nine decisively, 14 to 3. The work of the purple team was rather ragged and neither Haley nor Nostrand, both of whom pitched that afternoon, was in good form. Hits were frequent on both sides, but Clearfield's performance in the field prevented many runs by the visitors. Fernwood, on the other hand, had two bad innings, during which their infield threw the ball wild, and errors, coupled with some timely hitting by Bryan, Cotner and Merrick, in especial, enabled the home team to pile up a safe score before the game was half over. As Lanny was working with the track men that afternoon, his place was taken by Terry Carson, and the substitute caught a nearly perfect game ​until the eighth inning when a foul tip glanced away from a bat and split one of his fingers. After that McCoy went behind the plate, and it was a marvel that the visitors didn't pull the game out of the fire, for Sprague McCoy, an outfielder, was quite at sea in the backstop position. Nostrand, however, who was in the points during the last four innings, got himself together and managed to stave off two batting rallies. The incident opened Dick's eyes to the fact that a second substitute catcher was needed, and he and Captain Jones went a-hunting. It was Pete Robey upon whom their choice finally fell, and Pete found himself suddenly elevated from an insecure position amongst the rabble to a seat on the first team bench. But that was a day or two later. To-day Dick and Warner Jones were still discussing the matter when they left the field, and it was into that discussion that Fudge broke when he and Perry caught up with the older boys just as Dick swung himself into the runabout.
"Dick, did you find out anything last night?" asked Fudge eagerly.
"Hello, Fudge! Hello, Perry! Why, yes, something. Pile in here and I'll tell you in a minute. Let Perry sit in your lap, Warner, will you? Fudge, you squat on the floor."
​"Don't drag your feet, though," warned the captain humorously, "or you'll stop the car." He and Dick resumed their discussion of the catcher question and kept it up until Warner got out at his gate. When they trundled on Dick turned to the expectant Fudge.
"I spoke to Louise last night, Fudge, about your friend, and then she spoke to her father this morning. I suspect that he didn't much want to hire What's-his-name, but Louise is a very determined person and she finally got him to say that if this friend of yours would call on him at his office to-morrow morning—he's in New York to-day—he'd talk with him. Louise telephoned me at breakfast about it. She said Mr. Brent was very obstinate at first."
"That's b-b-bully!" exclaimed Fudge.
"Well, don't expect too much," warned Dick. "Mr. Brent isn't likely to hire him unless he can prove that he knows his business. I know enough about Mr. Brent to be certain of that, Fudge."
"Sure, but he does know his business! He's a very fine civil engineer."
"How do you know?" asked Dick gravely. "Has he ever done any work for you?"
Perry chuckled, and Fudge reddened a bit. "No, but—but you can t-t-t-tell he is, Dick!"
​"I see. Well, do you think he can draw?"
Fudge looked doubtfully at Perry, found no help there and replied sturdily: "You bet he can! He's a great drawer, he is!"
Dick smiled as he slowed down at Perry's gate. "I asked because the girls are going to make a silk pennant as a prize for the Track Team and they want someone to make a drawing of it to work by. I told Louise that perhaps this fellow Addicks could do it for them. Do you think he could?"
"I know he could," answered Fudge, with beautiful faith. "What's it for, this pennant?"
"Why, it's to go, I believe, to the fellow who does the best work for us in the meet with Springdale. It's to be rather a gorgeous affair; purple silk with green leaves and white lettering. Suppose you see Mr. Addicks and tell him about it and ask if he will do it. There isn't much money in it, because the girls have got to go to quite a little expense before they're through, I guess. Louise thought a dollar would be enough, but you could ask him what he'd do it for. If it wasn't much more than that, I guess they'd pay it. Mind doing that?"
"No, indeed! We'll do it right now. It's just around the corner. Want to come along?"
"Thanks, no, I've got to get home. Call me up ​this evening and tell me what he says. Much obliged, and I hope that job will pan out, fellows. Good-night!"
It was getting dark in the building when Fudge and Perry went in and climbed the stairs. Halfway up they encountered some of the workers in the glove factory, but after that the building seemed deserted. At the top of the last flight, though, they discovered that it wasn't, for, in front of Mr. Addicks' door at the end of the twilit corridor a bulky figure stood. As the boys looked the figure took on the appearance of a policeman. The policeman—they could see him more plainly now that their eyes had accustomed themselves to the half darkness—rapped loudly, imperatively on the door. He waited, and, as there was no response, he tried the handle. The door was locked. Then he bent close to the sign, as though making certain he was not mistaken, glanced up at the closed transom and swung around. Fudge dragged Perry forward and began an examination of the signs on the nearer portals as the policeman, walking almost noiselessly on rubber-soled shoes, passed them with a brief but searching glance. As his quiet footfalls died away in the hall below Fudge turned a wild, alarmed gaze on Perry.
"They're after him!" he whispered hoarsely.