“Smithering slaboleens!” exclaimed Nat. “Doesn’t it go far enough in you, Bony?” and he looked at his tall chum. “Do you want it to go all the way to your toes?”
“No; but when I hear Jack speak of pies and doughnuts——”
“You’ll do more than hear me speak of them if they come, Bony,” went on Jack. “We’ll have a little feast in my room to-night, when Martin, the monitor, is gone to bed.”
“When are you going?” asked Nat.
“Right after dinner. Want to come along? I guess you can get permission. I did.”
“Nope. I’ve got to stay here and bone up on geometry. I flunked twice this week, and Doc. Mead says I’ve got to do better. Take Bony.”
“Not for mine,” said Bony, shivering as he looked out of the window and saw the snow still coming down. “I’m going to stay in.”
“Then I’ll go alone,” decided Jack, and he started off soon after the midday meal. The storm was not a severe one, though it was cold and the snow was quite heavy. It was a good three-mile walk to the village, but Jack had often taken it.
He was about a mile from the school, and was swinging along the country road, thinking of many things, when, through the white blanket of snowflakes, he saw a figure just ahead of him on the highway.