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Read Ebook: Ned Bob and Jerry at Boxwood Hall; Or The Motor Boys as Freshmen by Young Clarence
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Ebook has 2065 lines and 54140 words, and 42 pages
INTRODUCTION
MY DEAR BOYS:
With this volume begins a new series of adventures for the "Motor Boys." Under the title "Ned, Bob and Jerry at Boxwood Hall; Or, The Motor Boys as Freshmen," I have had the pleasure of writing for you the various happenings that took place when the three young men, whose activities you have followed for some time, entered a new field.
The fathers of Ned Slade and Bob Baker, and the mother of Jerry Hopkins, in consultation one day, decided that the young men were getting a bit too wild and frivolous.
"It is time they settled down," said their parents, "and began to think of growing up. Let's send them to college!"
And to the college of Boxwood Hall our heroes were sent. It was a surprise to them, but it turned out to be a delightful surprise, and one of the reasons was that their old friend, Professor Snodgrass, now an enthusiastic collector of butterflies, was an instructor at Boxwood.
Of what took place at the college, of the hazing, the initiation, the queer developments following an automobile rescue, of how the motor boys gradually overcame an unfair prejudice, and how they helped to win a baseball victory--for all this I refer you to the following pages. The titles of the second series will include the names Ned, Bob and Jerry, in various activities, and while they will still use their motors, in auto, boat or airship, those machines will be of secondary consideration.
And with this explanation, and with the hope that you will accord this book the same welcome you have given my other writings, I remain,
Sincerely yours,
CLARENCE YOUNG.
NED, BOB AND JERRY AT BOXWOOD HALL
THE OVERTURNED AUTO
"What do you reckon it's all about, Jerry?"
"Well, Bob, you're as good a guesser as I am," came the answer from the young man who was at the wheel of a touring car that was swinging down a pleasant country road, under arching trees. "What do you say it means?"
"I haven't the least idea, unless it's some business deal. Ned, why don't you say something, instead of sitting there like a goldfish being admired by a tom-cat?" and Bob Baker, who sat beside Jerry Hopkins, the lad at the wheel, turned to his chum in the rear seat of the car.
"Say something!" exclaimed Ned Slade. "I'm as much up in the air about it as you fellows are. All I know is that my dad, and yours, and Jerry's mother, are having a confab."
"And a sort of serious confab at that," added Bob. "Look out there, Jerry!" he cried suddenly. "You nearly ran over that chicken," and he involuntarily raised his hand toward the steering wheel as a frightened, squawking and cackling hen fluttered from under the front wheels of the automobile, shedding feathers on the way. Then Bob remembered one of the first ethics of automobiling, which is never to interfere with the steersman, and he drew back his hand.
"A miss is as good as a mile," remarked Jerry coolly, as he brought the car back to a straight course, for he had swerved it to one side when he saw the chicken in the path. "But I agree with you, Bob, that the conference going on at my house, among our respected, and I might as well say respectable, parents does seem to be a serious one. However, as long as we can't guess what it's about there's no use in worrying. We may as well have a good time this afternoon. Where shall we go?"
"Let's go to Wallace's and have a bite to eat," put in Bob.
"Why, we only just had lunch!" exclaimed Ned, with a laugh.
"Maybe you fellows did, but I wouldn't call it a lunch that I got outside of--not by a long shot! Mother isn't at home, it was the girl's day out and I had to forage for myself."
"Heaven help the pantry, then!" exclaimed Jerry. "I've seen Bob 'forage,' as he calls it, before; eh, Ned?"
"That's right. He did it at our house once, and say! what mother said when she came home--whew!" and Ned whistled at the memory.
"I wasn't a bit worse than you were!" cried Bob, trying to lean back and punch his chum, but the latter kept out of reach in the roomy tonneau. "Anyhow, what has that got to do with going to Wallace's now? I'm hungry and I don't care who knows it."
"Well, don't let that fat waiter at Wallace's hear you say that, or he'll double charge us in the bill," cautioned Jerry. "They sure do stick on the prices at that joint."
"Then you'll go there?" asked Bob eagerly.
"Oh, I s'pose we might as well go there as anywhere. Does it suit you, Ned?"
"Sure. Only I can't imagine where Bob puts it all. Tell us, Chunky, that's a good chap," and he patted the shoulder of the stout lad who sat in front of him.
"Tell you what?" asked Bob, responding to the nickname that had been bestowed on him because of his stoutness.
"Where you put all you eat," went on Ned with a laugh. "You know it is impossible to make two objects occupy the same space at the same time. And if you've eaten one lunch to-day, and not two hours ago, where are you going to put another?"
"You watch and see," was all the answer Bob made. "Hit her up a bit, Jerry. There's a stiff hill just ahead."
"That's right. I forgot we were on this road. Well, then it's settled. We'll go to Wallace's and let Bob eat," and having ascended the hill, he turned off on a road that led to a summer resort not many miles from Cresville, the home town of the three lads.
"Aren't you fellows going to have anything?" asked Bob. "You'll eat; won't you?"
"Oh, for cats' sake, cut out the grub-talk for a while!" begged Ned. "Say, what about that conference, anyhow? Does any one know anything about it?"
"All I know," said Jerry, "is that I asked mother to come out for an auto ride this afternoon, and she said she couldn't because your dad, Ned, and Bob's too, were coming over to call."
"Did you ask her what for?"
"No, but I took it for granted it was something about business. You know mother owns some stock in your father's department store, Ned."
"Yes, and she deposits at dad's bank," added Bob, whose father, Andrew Baker, was the president of the most important bank in Cresville. "I guess it must be about some business affairs."
"I don't agree with you," declared Ned.
"Why not?" Jerry demanded. "When mother said she couldn't come out I hustled over and got you fellows, and here we are. But what's your reason for thinking it isn't business, Ned, that has brought our folks together at my house?"
"Because of some questions my father asked me this morning."
"Serious questions?" Bob interrogated.
"Well, in a way, yes. He asked me what I'd been doing lately, what you fellows had been doing, and he wanted to know what my plans were for this winter."
"What did you tell him?" inquired Jerry, slowing down as he came to the crest of another hill.
"Oh, I said we hadn't decided yet. I didn't tell him we had talked over making a tour of the South, for we hadn't quite decided on it; had we?"
"Not exactly," responded Jerry. "And yet the South is the place when winter comes. I guess we might do worse."
"Well, I didn't say anything about that," went on Ned, "because, if I had, dad would have wanted to know all the particulars, and I wasn't in a position to tell him."
"Is that all he asked you that makes you think the conference may be about us, instead of business?" Bob inquired.
"No, that wasn't quite all. He asked me about that trouble we got into last week."
"Oh, do you mean about the time we were pulled in for speeding?" asked Jerry with a laugh.
"That's it," assented Ned. "Only it isn't going to be anything to grin at if dad finds out all about it--that we nearly collided with the hay wagon while trying to pass that roadster. Say, but it was some going! We fractured the speed limits in half a dozen places."
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