The eastbound express drew up at Bloomfield station. Among the passengers who got off was a slender, grave-faced young fellow, who carried a satchel, and whose hand was grasped almost as soon as his foot reached the depot platform. It was Frank Merriwell's old friend, Berlin Carson.
"How are you, Berlin, old boy!" cried Frank, shaking that hand warmly. "Here's Hodge."
Bart Hodge followed Frank in giving the traveler a handshake.
"By George, I'm glad to see you, Carson," he said.
The young man's grave face brightened and a look of seeming sadness vanished from his eyes as he surveyed Merry and Hodge.
"Glad doesn't express it with me," he said. "I can't find words, fellows. By Jove! you're both looking fine and happy as lords."
"Hodge ought to look happy." chuckled Merriwell. "Just married, you know."
"Elsie Bellwood——"
"You've named her," nodded Frank. "She's the bride."
"Congratulations, Bart, old boy!" said Carson, again wringing the hand of Hodge.