“Fellows, I guess you’re right,” he admitted. “It clashes—doesn’t fill in right.”
“Then you won’t mind if we get the old one back?” asked Tom.
“No,” answered Frank softly. “I’ll go tell the janitor now. I—I guess this can stay here for—er—well a day or two; can’t it?”
“Sure,” assented Tom.
With a more cheerful air than his friends supposed he could assume under the circumstances, Frank threw the sheet back over the new sofa. Then he went to summon the janitor.
Presently, while the crowd in the room was beginning to open the packages of smuggled food, a noise was heard out in the corridor. Tom threw open the door.
“Welcome home, wanderer!” he greeted, as the old sofa was brought in.
“Dear old friend,” murmured Phil, while Sid gently pushed with his hand on the seat to ascertain if it would hold his weight.
“Wait,” Frank requested of the janitor. “I’ll help you carry this new one out. There isn’t room for the two in here.”