“Shall we wait for you outside?” asked Phil of Tom.
“No, go on, get a car. I’ll follow. I want to finish this chapter. There’s loads of time. You’re too early. Sit down and cool off.”
“What, and get all dust! I guess not!” cried Sid. “Come on, fellows.”
“See you later?” asked Phil, as he went out.
“Later—yes,” replied Tom, pretending to yawn and stretch, as though the whole affair bored him. And then, as the door closed, and he heard his chums walking down the corridor, he threw the book across the room, leaned forward with his head between his hands, his elbows on his knees, and gave way to bitter thoughts.
For Tom Parsons was not going on the May walk.
Many besides our three friends had fearfully, and more or less wonderfully, arrayed themselves that afternoon for the annual outing, and soon all roads seemed to be leading to Fairview. Sid, Phil and Frank were among the earliest arrivals, and soon found Ruth, Mabel and Helen, who were waiting for them.
“Where’s Tom?” asked Ruth of her brother.
“Oh, he’s coming later. He didn’t want to tog up with us in the room. Guess he’s got a new suit. But where’s Madge?”
There was an embarrassed silence among the girls, and then Mabel said: