"Poor, poor Tom!" he murmured softly. "He'll have to take it easy. If he tries to keep up here it may kill him, or——" Sam did not finish. It was a terrorizing thought to imagine that Tom might go out of his mind. "He's got to have a doctor—some specialist. I'm glad Dick is coming, so we can talk it over. But it's too bad to burden Dick with this—and Dora, too—when they aren't over their honeymoon yet. Oh, dear, it's too bad Pelter threw that footstool at Tom!"
Tom continued to sleep and Sam tried his best to study. But it was hard work and the youngest Rover made slow progress. An hour passed and then there came a soft tap on the door. Songbird was there.
"I thought I'd ask how he was," he whispered, nodding towards Tom.
"Sound asleep, Songbird." Sam paused for a moment. "Come in," and his chum did so, and Sam closed the door again. "I wanted to ask you about Stanley and Spud."
"I—I tried to explain to them, without going into it too deeply," said Songbird. "I think Spud understands. But Stanley—well, he's pretty well riled yet. But I guess he'll get over it."
"You can tell 'em that Tom would never play such a trick if he was—well just right here," and Sam touched his forehead. "It's an awful state of affairs, Songbird! I hardly know what to do."
"Why not send Tom home for a rest?"
"How can I if he won't go?"
"Get the doctor to order it."
"That's an idea. I'll talk it over with Dick when he comes. But I wish you could fix it up with Stanley."