No one did, beyond rumors that the athletic committee was considering it. Then they fell to talking of what might happen when the Spring came, of records, past performances, of great baseball and football games won and lost, and, by degrees, Tom felt less keenly the unpleasant news that had come to him.
“I do hope your dad wins that case!” exclaimed Phil, as they were getting ready for bed, on hearing the warning bell ring. “We don’t want to lose you, Tom.”
“And I don’t want to go, but still, a fellow——”
“I know, he has to do his duty. I sometimes feel that I ought to be at work helping the family instead of staying here, where it costs considerable,” interrupted Phil. “But if I ever can I’m going to make it up to them. Wait until I get my degree, and the law cases come pouring in on me, with big fees—say, maybe I could give your dad some points!” he exclaimed, for Phil was considering the law as his profession.
“Well, dad has hired about all the lawyers he can afford,” replied Tom with a smile.
“Oh, I didn’t mean for a retainer!” cried Phil. “I’d take the case for practice.”
“I’ll tell dad,” was the pitcher’s smiling answer.
From the easy chairs, and the rickety sofa, the lads arose, amid clouds of dust. The alarm clock, that served to awaken them in time for first chapel call, was set going again, and carefully placed under some cushions that the ticking might not keep them awake, while yet the bell might summon them in time for worship next morning.
“We surely must do something to that sofa,” remarked Phil, as he pressed down on the old springs. “We need a new one——”
“Never!” cried Tom.