“I think, mother,” said Tom, good-humoredly, “they won’t think me of sufficient importance. Besides, you know, I am only to be in the city a few hours.”
“I shall feel anxious till you get back, Tom.”
“I don’t believe anybody will try to carry me off, mother. If they do they’ll have a tough job. I’ll make it lively for them.”
Mrs. Thatcher, privately, was of the opinion that Mr. Julian had acted imprudently in trusting a boy with so important a commission, but she saw that Tom had no fears, and acquiesced in his going.
The morning train for New York left the Wilton station at half-past eight o’clock.
Rather to Tom’s surprise, Rupert Simpson was a passenger by this train. As Tom entered the cars, he found Rupert already installed in a seat by the window. There was no other seat vacant except the one beside him.
“Is that seat taken, Rupert?” asked Tom.
Rupert surveyed our hero in undisguised surprise and awe.
“No,” he answered. “Where are you going?”
“To New York,” answered Tom, seating himself. “I suppose you are going there, too.”