“Wait until I see if I get the appointment,” he thought.
Mrs. Taylor was anxiously waiting for her son, and inquired as to how the examination had gone. Of course Tom could tell nothing definite, but he and his mother indulged in high hopes. Mrs. Taylor really wanted Tom to go to West Point, since he had so set his heart on it. She felt that, somehow, she would raise the necessary hundred dollars for deposit, even if she had to sell some of the small amount in securities that she kept against the proverbial rainy day.
Tom was up early next morning, and again made the trip to Preston. Some of the boys who had been there the day before were not now on hand. It was whispered that one of them had been caught cheating in getting information from a fellow competitor. Both had been barred.
“I wonder if one of them was Clarence?” mused Tom, as he heard this talk going around before the hour set for the final tests.
But when the doors were being closed Clarence came in, tossing aside the butt of a cigarette.
“Here comes the sport,” some one murmured. Clarence heard it, and looked up, obviously not ill-pleased.
This examination was more difficult than Tom had anticipated, and he worked hard over the list of questions. So did most of the other boys, though a few “took it easy.” But perhaps they recognized the fact that they had no chance, and so did not worry. Clarence seemed to be writing diligently.
“He’s evidently going into this for all he’s worth,” thought Tom. “Well, so am I, for that matter.”
It was something of a nervous strain, and Tom was glad when it was over and he could hand in his papers and go home.
Then came days of anxious waiting—days in which Tom and his mother discussed the possibilities of the case from all angles. Had Tom passed with a high enough average, enough higher than that of the other candidates, to secure the appointment?