“Wait, Tom,” cautioned his father with a smile, “we’re not going to leave you alone, exactly. Besides, there is your education to think of, and we may be gone for many months.”
“Oh, but I say—” began Tom again.
“Now, dear son,” began his mother in a gentle voice, “we have it all planned out for you. You are to go to boarding school while we are away.”
“Boarding school!” Tom’s eyes began to sparkle. After all, this might be as good as going to Australia.
“Yes,” said his father, “and we have picked out—”
“Elmwood Hall!” broke in Mrs. Fairfield, unable to let her husband tell all the news.
“Elmwood Hall!” cried Tom, thinking of the note in his pocket from Bruce Bennington.
“Yes,” spoke Mr. Fairfield, “though if you’d rather go to some other place it may be arranged. But your mother and I picked out Elmwood Hall, and—”
“Elmwood Hall!” cried Tom again. “Say, that’s all right. I’m satisfied! That beats Australia. When are you going? When can I start for Elmwood? Have you got a catalog from there? Say, I’ve got something to tell you!” and Tom, overcoming a desire to stand on his head, pulled out the note Bruce had left in his boat.