“Have you seen my uncle?” he asked several.
“No!” cried Holly Cross. “And if I do, I’ll shoot him on sight! Get out or I’ll eat you up,” and with a roar of simulated wrath he rushed at poor Fenton, who beat a hasty retreat.
Tom was jubilant at the success of his college, nor did he withhold unstinted praise for Langridge. He had been surprised at the sudden improvement shown. Tom and Miss Tyler walked across the grounds toward the campus, the girl looking back several times. Suddenly Langridge appeared from amid a group of players.
“I’ll be with you in a minute,” he called to Miss Tyler, “as soon as I change my duds. Wait for me.”
There was an air of proprietorship in the words and the girl must have felt them, for she turned away without speaking.
“Perhaps I’d better say good-afternoon,” spoke Tom, a trifle piqued.
“Not unless you want to,” she replied with a quick look at him.
“Of course I don’t want to, but I thought——”
“Don’t bother to think,” she added with a little laugh. “It’s tiresome. Come and show me the river. Not that I haven’t seen it before, but it’s so beautiful to-day, I want some one to enjoy it with me.”