After lunch Mr. Anderson went to the high school where his son was enrolled, to give notice to the principal of Roger's withdrawal.
They arrived just before school assembled for the afternoon session, and, while Mr. Anderson was talking with Mr. Blake, the principal, Roger wandered into the familiar court-yard, where he met a number of classmates.
"Going to leave, eh?" they all questioned as the news got around. "Say, Roger, you're a lucky chap. I wish my father would take me out of school."
"I believe I'd rather stay," said Roger.
"Oh, cut that out! What you giving us!" called several, sincerely, if not politely.
"No, I would, really," insisted Roger, and he honestly meant it, though he could not help feeling a little important over the small excitement he was creating among his companions. Still he did like his studies very much, for he was just beginning to appreciate the inspiration of Virgil, the wonders of the science work, and the sturdy exactness of algebraic equations.
A few minutes later Mr. Anderson came out of Mr. Blake's office, and the two men walked over to where Roger stood. Mr. Blake shook hands with him, gravely, and, while expressing regret that his pupil was leaving school, agreed that it was best, under the circumstances. He hoped to see Roger back again, he said, much improved in health, and, with cheery good-byes from his companions, the boy walked out of the school-yard with his father. There was just the trace of tears in Roger's eyes, which he hoped his father wouldn't see, for, after all, it was rather hard to leave such a lot of fine chums as he had.
For the next few days there were busy times in the Anderson home. Such an overhauling of Roger's clothes, such a sewing on of buttons, double strong, almost enough for a small army of boys, such a darning of stockings, and a mending of rents in coats and trousers, and such admonition and advice as his mother gave him, from never forgetting to say his prayers, to not neglecting to clean his teeth. For he had never been away from his parents before, in all his short life, and it was a momentous occasion.
The novelty of the affair, and the anticipation of adventures in store for him, kept Roger from thoughts that he might possibly be lonesome or homesick, after he had started away. Under the stimulus of preparation he even began to feel better in health. His pale cheeks showed a little color, and his head had not ached since he had been to the doctor's.
On Thursday a letter came from Uncle Bert, telling Mrs. Anderson to send Roger right along; that they would all try to make him comfortable and happy. So it was arranged he was to start next Monday night, and, to Mrs. Anderson, the time, until then, seemed altogether too short, though, boylike, Roger thought the intervening days would never pass. His ticket had been purchased, his valise packed, and by Sunday night everything was in readiness. At church that day the boy felt his eyes grow a little misty as the choir sang the solemn songs, but he made up his mind that he must play the part of a man now, at least as far as appearances went. So he gulped down the lump in his throat.