“You dry up!” commanded Frank. “I guess we’ll give you a banquet if we want to, if you’re going to leave. But you’re not. I believe, as Sid does, that it’s only temporary. You’ll start right away, of course?”
“As soon as Moses lets me. I can catch the midnight train, and be at home in the morning. I guess it must be that dad needs my testimony, or an affidavit or something in connection with the lawsuit. It will be tried over again soon, and I helped dad on some of his books and papers, when he went into that horse deal. I’ll go see Moses now, and get a permit.”
“You’ll have to break training,” remarked Phil a bit regretfully, as Tom walked toward the residence of Dr. Churchill. “You’ll have to work doubly hard when you come back.”
“Oh, I guess Randall won’t lose much by my absence for a few days,” answered Tom with a laugh. “There are enough fellows to hold her end up.”
“What’s that?” cried Holly Cross, coming along at that moment. “No treason, Parsons. Randall wants every loyal son to stand up for her honor.”
“Oh, of course,” replied the pitcher. “I’ll be on the job later,” and he explained about the telegram.
Holly was sorry, and expressed the hope that Tom would quickly be back. Soon, having secured the necessary permission from the venerable president, Tom was in his room with his chums.
“We’ll help you pack,” volunteered Phil. “You won’t need much but a pair of pajamas and a toothbrush.”
“I guess that’s right,” agreed Tom. “If I have to stay home for good I can send for the rest of my things.”
“Perish the thought!” exclaimed Sid, and, for the first time since the receipt of the telegram, there came over the spirit of gaiety that had existed, a cloud of apprehension and sorrow. For, though they all hoped that Tom would not have to leave Randall, there was the ever-present possibility that events would so shape themselves.