“Why not?”
“Kindlings will want us to get into our football togs as soon as we get back, and jump out at practice. No chance to chase off around the country, looking for an unknown furniture dealer out Rosevale way.”
“That’s so,” agreed Sid. “Well, we can go to-morrow.”
“I’m full up with lectures to-morrow,” objected Phil.
“Well, some of us can go,” declared Frank. “We mustn’t let that chair get away again.” For, though he was a new chum, he felt the same interest in the recovery of the missing piece of furniture as did his friends. “I can stand a few more cuts, and I can get off right after practice.”
“Maybe I can go with you,” suggested Tom.
The two did manage to get away the next day, taking a trolley car as far as it went, and hiring a farmer to drive them to the village of Rosevale, a quaint little place. The farmer said he knew of no second-hand furniture dealers in that vicinity, but the boys had hopeful visions, and, dismissing their rig, as they intended to hire another in which to drive back, they tramped along the country roads, making inquiries wherever they could.
But fate was against them. Late that afternoon, having covered many miles, they gave up, and made arrangements to be driven back to where they could get a trolley car to Randall.
They had called on many men who dealt in old furniture, and some who made a specialty of upholstering. Some were Hebrews, and some were not. But none had the chair they sought.
“I wonder if that Yankee was fooling us?” asked Tom.