“Hot,” he remarked.
“You’re an awful chatterbox,” sighed Carl. But the spell was broken.
“Only two weeks to the end of school,” said Dick. “By Jove, I’d just like to know where the time’s gone; it doesn’t seem any time since spring vacation!”
“That’s so,” answered Carl. “Another two weeks and it’ll be all over, and good-by to old Hillton. It’s funny how sorry it makes a chap. That’s the odd thing about it; it doesn’t seem so fine until you have to leave it all. I wonder if I’ll have as good a time at college?”
“I know,” mused Dick sentimentally, “it’s almost like leaving home. I wish—I wish I was going to stay another year!”
“My, you’re funny,” quoth Stewart. “Catch me being sorry when I get through!”
“Wait; you will be,” answered Carl. “There’s a whole raft of fellows going up to Harwell this year, isn’t there? Do you know anything about your room yet, Dick?”
“No; I guess I’ll find a small one near the Yard for this year. When Trevor comes he and I are going to room together, aren’t we, old chap?”
“If you’re good,” answered his chum gravely. When hostilities had ended Carl said reminiscently: