But a round of the other second-hand dealers, where inquiries were made, developed nothing. There were many easy chairs on sale, but that of our heroes was not to be seen, and sorrowfully they returned to the college.
It was long past the regular supper time, but they had satisfied their hunger in Haddonfield. And, in spite of their troubles—their worriment over the chair, and the mix-up that was sure to result in the football team—they had managed to eat a good meal.
They saw Proctor Zane, as they strolled up over the campus, and the official glanced sharply at them.
“He’s just wishing we were coming in late,” declared Tom.
“I believe you,” assented Phil.
They entered their room, stumbling in the darkness over books and chairs, for they never took the trouble to put their apartment to rights.
“I say, strike a light, some one!” exclaimed Tom, rubbing his shins where they had come in contact with a chair.
There was a click as Phil turned the electric switch, and the incandescent glowed. For a moment the three chums stood in the middle of the room, gazing at each other.
“Doesn’t it seem lonesome without the old chair,” spoke Phil at length.
“Sort of makes the room look bigger though,” declared Sid, as he threw himself on the sofa. It was a poor consolation at best.