It had now begun to grow dark, and the shouts that came from the common bore evidence to the fact that the Night-hawks were ready to begin operations. Occasionally he heard a long, loud whistle, which, under almost any other circumstances, would have been promptly answered by Tom, for it told him, as plainly as words, that he was wanted. But he did not feel at all inclined to engage in any mischief that night, so the boys were obliged to get along the best they could without him. It was fortunate for Tom that he resolved to stay at home, for scarcely had he come to this determination, when he heard his father calling him. Tom obeyed the summons, and when he entered the room where Mr. Newcombe sat, the latter inquired:
“Well, Tom, have you completed your task?”
“O, no, I haven’t,” was the answer. “I can’t learn the capitals of so many States.”
“Have you tried?” asked the father.
“O, now, don’t I know what I can learn without trying?” asked Tom, throwing his cap into one corner of the room, and seating himself near his father. “If a fellow knows he can’t do a thing, what is the use of his trying? It’s only time thrown away.”
Mr. Newcombe, knowing that it would be of no use to argue the point just then, changed the subject by inquiring:
“Have you learned any thing at all during the last month?”
“O, I don’t know,” answered Tom. “I can’t study all alone. There’s no fun in it. Say, father, can’t I go to sea without learning the capitals of all the States?”
“What could you do on board a vessel, Tom? You would be a foremast hand all your life.”