“Troubles?” questioned Tom, now that the other had given him an opening. “You don’t look as if you had troubles.”
“Well, I have—lots of ’em. I’ve acted like a blamed chump, and now I’ve got to pay the piper. A man is trying to make trouble for me, and I guess he’ll succeed, all right. I’m too easy, that’s the trouble. But I’m not going to bother you with my woes.”
“Do you want to come for a ride with me?” asked Tom. “I’m going to take a couple of friends across the river.”
“No, thank you. I don’t want to seem stiff, but really I’d be better off by myself for a time. So, if you really mean it, and will lend me your boat, I’ll go for a row alone. I was out on a little country run—I live in Camden—and when I saw this river, looking so calm and peaceful, I just felt as though I’d like to row on it, and forget my troubles.”
“You may take the boat, and welcome,” went on Tom, looking at the other, and forming a liking for him at once.
“Thanks. My name is Bennington—Bruce Bennington. I haven’t a card, or I’d give you one.”
“My name’s Tom Fairfield,” spoke our hero, and the two shook hands.
“Know how to row?” asked Tom, as the newcomer started toward where the small boat was moored.
“Yes, I’m on the crew at Elmwood Hall. I’m a senior there,” Bruce explained.
“Oh!” exclaimed Tom, for he had often heard of that place of learning. “That’s quite a school,” he added. “I’ve often wished I could go there.”