“Nothing in the fancy eats line until after the big game, I’m afraid,” objected Sid. “Kindlings and Lighton will sit down on that. But we’ll have a double celebration after we do up Boxer Hall.”
“I wish it was to-morrow—I mean, so we could sit in the old chair,” went on Phil, almost as eager as a child.
But the chair did not come the next day, and after fretting and worrying, the boys received a badly written, and worse spelled, postal from Mr. Rosenkranz, explaining that his horse was sick, but that he would deliver the chair as soon as the animal was well.
“Say, there’s a hoodoo about that chair,” declared Tom, as he went out to football practice with his mates.
It was on the morning of the big game with Boxer Hall that an ancient wagon, drawn by a decrepit horse, drove up to Randall College. At first the students were inclined to make game of the outfit, but when Phil and Tom discovered that it was Mr. Rosenkranz with their chair, there was a change of heart. For the belief that the chair might prove to be a mascot or “lucky” hunch had grown.
“There she is!” cried Sid, seeing the old piece of furniture on the wagon. “Now, up into our room with her, fellows.”
“Yes, and don’t stop to admire it all day, either,” called Kindlings. “I want you in practice right away.”
The chums promised, but they could hardly tear themselves away from the room where, once more, reposed the old chair. It looked as natural as it ever had, and its sojourn “in the land of the Philistines,” as Tom declared, had apparently not harmed it any.
“I declare, the old clock seems glad to see it back,” declared Phil.
“It sure does,” agreed Sid, sinking down on the sofa. That piece of furniture seemed to creak and groan out a welcome to its fellow.