With a grunt of annoyance Tom turned away from the window, kicked under the sofa the book which Frank had thrown at him, and reached for his cap and coat.
“Where you going?” asked Phil quickly, as he turned over in the deep armchair, causing the ancient piece of furniture to emit many a groan, and send out a choking cloud of dust. “Whither away, fair sir?”
“Anywhere, to get away from you fellows,” grunted the displeased one.
“No, but seriously, where are you going?” asked Frank. “Now that you’ve broken the ice, I don’t mind admitting that I don’t care such an awful lot for boning.”
Tom paused in the doorway, one arm in and the other out of his coat.
“I’m going out,” he answered. “It’s too nice to stay in. The coasting must be great on Ridge Hill, and with this moon—say it’s a shame to stay in! That’s what I’ve been trying to ding into you fellows, only you wouldn’t listen. Why, half of Randall must be out there to-night.”
“What about Proc. Zane?” asked Sid, referring to the proctor, who kept watch and ward over the college.
“Nothing doing,” answered Tom. “A lot of the fellows went to Moses after the last lecture and got permission to take their bobs over on the hill. There were so many that the good old doctor said he’d raise the rules for to-night, because it was likely to be such a fine one. So there’s no danger of being up on the carpet, if we get in at any decent hour.”
“Why didn’t you say so at first?” demanded Sid. “Of course we’ll go. Why didn’t you mention it instead——”