“Tele-gum fer Mis-ter Straw-bridge,” came the sing-song answer.
“Telegram!” exclaimed Jack. Then he shouted, “All right, bring it up! Third floor, Room Thirty-two.”
“Huh, what’s this? Some more mystery?” demanded Tommy Todd as Jack left the window.
“You know as much about it as I do,” said Jack, somewhat disturbed.
A moment later the lazy tread of the messenger boy could be heard on the creaking stairs. Then came a knock.
“Come in,” shouted Jack and the door was pushed open to admit a blue clad messenger of diminutive proportions, whose hat was cocked at a rakish angle on his head.
“Day letter. Sign on dis line here,” he said laconically, as he handed Jack the stub of a much-used pencil.
Jack signed hastily and the youth scuffled out into the hall, forgetting entirely to close the door. But the captain of the football team did not notice this. With trembling fingers he was tearing the end off the yellow envelope, while the rest of the boys looked on in wonder.
As Jack unfolded the telegraph blank his face took on an expression of great concern. But as he began to read, this expression changed to a smile of delight. Finally after he had finished, he exclaimed,