“It was a fine day,” remarked Sid, taking the companion chair to the one Frank had selected, and with such violence did he fling himself into it that the joints creaked and groaned in protest. “I’m tired,” added Sid, in explanation.
“No reason for killing the chair though,” objected Phil. “That’s the old original, too, not the one we got from Rosencranz. Treat it gently.”
Tom was stretched out on the sofa, his arms up over his head, staring at the ceiling. He moved his feet to make room for Phil, who settled down beside his chum.
For a space there was silence in the room, a deep silence, for no one knew just what to say to relieve the somewhat embarrassing situation. The three did not just know what to make of Tom, though they had heard, just before coming home, that Madge Tyler was with Shambler, and that explained much.
“Great Scott! The clock!” suddenly exclaimed Sid, as the silence, which was beginning to make itself felt, became so oppressive that they were all aware that the clock had stopped. “Have you been doing anything to it, Tom?”
“Who? Me? No, it was going when I went out. Maybe it needs winding.”
“That’s it,” declared Sid with an air of relief as, by testing the thumb screw that operated the main spring, he found the time piece had indeed run down. Soon its cheerful, if somewhat monotonous ticking, filled the room.
“Well, now for some boning,” remarked Phil, with half a sigh, as he took off his stiff collar, and made himself comfortable. “I understand the Spring exams are going to be pretty stiff,” he added.
“Well, they ought to be,” remarked Frank. “We’re getting up in the world. We’re not in the kindergarten class any more. But it will soon be Summer, and then for a long rest. I’m going out on a ranch, I think.”