And so they strolled on, talking by fits and starts, in the sweet fragrant May night, glad of heart, the gladder that for long they had not known each other’s friendship.
The next few weeks were wonderful ones to Tony and his friends. On that bright Saturday a worthy rival had come from western Cæsarea to meet their baseball team and had bit the dust. Jimmie Lawrence, captain of the team now, had played first without an error and had knocked a home-run, bringing in three men—a pleasant augury for the Boxford game in mid-June. In the evening there had been the dance in the Gymnasium, and Betty Wilson had been there, lovelier than ever it seemed to Tony, as his eyes fluttered in the light of her eyes and he thrilled with a strange, nice, happy little thrill at the touch of her hand in his. And Barbara Worthington was there, and Kit too was beaming. As yet the shadow of the final good-byes had not fallen upon them. There were still three golden weeks for the reunited crowd.
*********
One night, not long after the dance, Tony sat late in Mr. Morris’s study, as he was apt to do these last weeks, talking things over with his older friend.
“This has certainly been a bully term,” said Tony, with a contented sigh, “I don’t think I have ever been so happy. I can’t bear to think of leaving.”
Morris had been happy too, but for him the shadow was already falling. “Ah—that’s the hard part of school life—the going and the being left behind.... But you will be coming back often—that’s a comfort. I never cease to be thankful that Kingsbridge is so near.”
“Yes, I shall be coming back mighty often. Doesn’t seem really as if the school could run without us. I suppose I shall like college, but I can’t imagine that it will ever be quite the same as school.”
“Well,” said Morris, as his mind turned back to good Kingsbridge days, “one grows fond of it. But school——”
“It’s as Reggie says,” Tony interrupted, “the heart’s at home here. It will be bully to have Reggie and Kit and Jim and so many of the old form at Kingsbridge, but, magister, I shan’t have you.”
Morris’s heart glowed at this. “Stupid they,” thought he, “who say a boy does not show feeling or gratitude!” Aloud he murmured, “No; you will not have me. But I will tell you what reconciles me to the situation, Tony,—you will be coming back during college days pretty often; and then—I have a strong prophetic feeling—you will be coming back for good.”