“To-morrow forenoon!” gasped Jim.
“Exactly.” The trouble in the boy’s face softened the secretary’s manner. “What was it you wanted? Is there anything I can do for you?”
“No, sir, thank you,” answered Jim. He went out, closed the heavy oak door softly and dragged his feet along the corridor. At the corner he drew aside and Brandon Gary hurried by him in the direction of the Office. Jim smiled wanly. Gary and he were in the same boat.
On the front steps he paused, hands thrust deep in his pockets and tried to think what to do. It still lacked twenty minutes of recitation time and he had the sunlit entrance to himself. But he could see no way out of his quandary. Only Mr. Gordon could lift the ban and Mr. Gordon had gone away. Jim seated himself on the top step and stared unseeingly at the wooded slope beyond the river. Footsteps echoed in the corridor and Brandon Gary came out. He saw Jim, hesitated and then leaned against the doorway. Jim looked up and their eyes met. Gary nodded.
“Hello,” said Jim morosely.
“Say, Hazard, you and I are both up against it, aren’t we?” said Gary. “I’d like to know what business J. G. has going away at a time like this.”
“I suppose to-morrow morning will be too late,” responded Jim discouragedly.
“Oh, he won’t be back until noon. He’ll come on the express that gets in just before dinner. Gee, Hazard, I’d like to play to-morrow! I’ve been thinking he might let me off before this, but he didn’t, and I made up my mind I wouldn’t ask. But now it’s serious. With Curtis gone the old team’s up against it, I guess.”