“Shut up!” ordered Tom, peremptorily, as he started toward their dormitory. “The next time I try to elevate the minds of you fellows by pointing out the beauties of nature you’ll know it!”
“All right, old chap,” came in soothing accents from Phil. “Those clouds are worth looking at, for a fact. Sid has no soul for anything above the commonplace.”
“Neither would you have, if you’d been chewing on mud,” declared the other. “It strikes me that we are getting silly, or sentimental, in our old age. Come on up and get into a bathrobe and we’ll take it easy. I have some imported ginger ale, and some prime cheese in the closet.”
“You rat! And you never spoke of it before!” cried Phil, clapping his chum on the back. “Come on, let’s see who’ll get there first, as the wolf said to Red Riding Hood,” and he started up the stairs on the run, followed by Sid, while Tom limped on more slowly.
When the end reached their apartment he found the door open, and his two chums standing on the threshold as though afraid to enter. It was dark inside, for the shades were drawn. Tom looked at his two companions in some surprise.
“What’s the matter?” he asked. “Snake in there? Why don’t you go on in?”
“Listen!” exclaimed Phil, softly.
They stood expectantly. Through the stillness there came to them a rhythmetic tick-tick, which floated out of their room and into the corridor.
“The clock!” gasped Tom.