“Then you really have some hope, Tom?”
“Yes—a little,” he admitted. “But I can’t talk about it, Ruth. It involves others.”
“Oh, tell me Tom! I’ll keep it a secret!” she pleaded.
“No, really I can’t,” he said, and though she made it rather hard for him, he kept to his resolve.
“It is time your friends left, young ladies!” announced the rather rasping voice of Miss Philock, a little later. “I have been lenient with you to the extent of ten minutes, but now I must insist.”
“Thank you for your kindness,” exclaimed Phil, with a low bow. “We greatly appreciate it.”
“I am glad that you do,” declared the preceptress, not allowing a smile to change the hard contour of her face. Poor Miss Philock! Doubtless she did not have a happy time of it, and her responsibilities must have weighed on her. It is not an easy task to be the dragon, guarding a number of pretty girls, when two colleges for young men are not far off. And Miss Philock did her duty, however unpleasant it was.
Tom was awakened that night, shortly after one o’clock. At least he judged it to be about that hour, for he dimly recalled hearing a distant clock booming out twelve; then he had fallen into a doze, and it could not have been over an hour later when a noise and movement in the main apartment, out of which all their rooms opened, roused him.
“Wonder who that is?” he thought, sleepily. “Maybe we did a little too much to-day, and some of the boys can’t rest. I’ll take a look.”
He raised himself upon his elbow, but, though he had a partial view of the sitting room from that position, he could see no one. The scuffling of feet on the carpet, however, and the faint rattle of paper, told that someone was up and about.