"Wonder where we could ship it to, so the other fellows wouldn't get on to what was doing?" mused Dick.
"Why not ship it to Mr. Sanderson?" suggested Sam. The man he mentioned was a farmer living some distance from the college. The boys had once done the farmer's daughter Minnie a great favor, saving her from insults at the hands of Jerry Koswell and Dudd Flockley.
"That's the talk!" cried Tom. "He'll take care of it and let us put it together in one of his open fields. Then we can make the fellows at Brill open their eyes."
The new idea pleased all the youths immensely, and the next day a long letter of explanation was sent to Mr. Sanderson, and he was asked to telegraph a reply. The biplane was taken apart and packed up for transportation, and then the boys packed their trunks and dress-suit cases, and got ready to "go back to the greasy grind," as Tom expressed it.
It must not be supposed that the lads had forgotten to write to the Stanhopes and the Lanings, and to their college friends. Numerous letters had been mailed and about an equal number had been received. The girls were all going to Hope, but one week later than the boys would have to depart for Brill. Nothing more had been seen or heard of Crabtree or Sobber, for which all were thankful.
"Here's a letter from William Philander Tubbs," said Tom. "I sent him a letter just for fun, asking him the style in socks this fall. Listen to his reply." And he read the following:
"I have been making diligent inquiries about the shades in socks, my dearest Thomas, but the storekeepers seem to be a little undecided. Some think that Rambler Red will prevail while others favor Nile Green and a new shade called Baby's Breath. Personally I favor Baby's Breath and have purchased one dozen of that shade. If I get any more definite news about shades I will wire you, because I know what a dreadful thing it is not to have the shade that is really and truly fashionable."
"Three cheers for William Philander and his Baby's Breath socks!" cried Sam. "He's the true and only artist!"
"Baby's Breath!" murmured Tom. "Now wouldn't that get your scalp-lock?" And then there was a merry laugh all around.
There was likewise a letter from Max Spangler, and another from Stanley Browne, stating they were already on their way to Brill. Then, just before the boys were ready to leave home, came a letter from Songbird Powell.