“No, I want to unpack a bit. See you in the morning.”
“All right. We’ll go to chapel together.”
As Joe entered his new room, and turned on the light, he saw a figure in one of the beds. For a moment he was startled, having forgotten that he was to share the room with someone. The youth turned over and gazed at Joe.
“Oh!” he exclaimed with a rather pleasant laugh. “I meant to sit up until you came back, to explain, but I guess I fell asleep. Mrs. Hopkins said you had no objections to a partner, and this was the only place available.”
“Not at all!” exclaimed Joe cordially. “Glad you came in. It’s lonesome rooming alone.”
“You’re Matson; aren’t you?” asked the youth in bed.
“Yes.”
“My name is Poole—Burton Poole.”
Then, for the first time Joe recognized the lad he had seen standing all alone on the depot platform—the one to whom he had been inclined to speak—but from which impulse he had held himself back.