“I—I suppose so.”
“That’s all I want to know,” went on Tom. “We will have a meeting to-night, and decide on a plan. Then we’ll make a mutual promise to stick together, and we’ll wait our chance. Meeting’s adjourned.”
“Say, Tom Fairfield is all right!” exclaimed Bert Wilson to Jack, as the two walked on together.
“That’s true,” agreed Tom’s special chum. “I’m glad we’ve got him to run things.”
“What makes him that way—always doing things?” George Abbot wanted to know.
“Because, Why,” spoke Jack, “Tom eats rusty nails for breakfast. They give him an iron constitution.”
“Really. Are you joking?”
“Of course not,” replied Jack with a sober face. “Run along now, and ask Demy Miller if he knows his ancient history.”
The studious janitor was observed coming over the campus, a book, as usual, under his arm. He saw the students and turned to meet them.
“What is it now, Demy?” asked Jack, as he saw an anxious look on the man’s face.