“Very well. If you will accompany me to the hall I will—er—attend to it.”
[“We thought you might send him a telegram,” said Gary, boldly.]
At a few minutes before four o’clock Gary sent the message at the telegraph office in the village. Mrs. Gordon had willingly supplied her husband’s address in Boston. There was nothing to do now but wait. Johnny was far from satisfied with events, but told Gary and Jim to report that evening and receive instructions in signals. Jim was a different boy now. At Sunnywood excitement reigned supreme. Supper was a very perfunctory meal, for every one was too busy listening for the footsteps of a messenger boy to eat much. Even Mr. Hanks, suddenly drawn into the swirl of school affairs, displayed a mild interest in events. At eight o’clock no reply had been received and Hope put forward the explanation that Mr. Gordon, who was stopping at an hotel, had gone out to dinner with friends.
“He will find the telegram when he gets back to the hotel this evening,” she declared cheerfully. “There’s no use getting worried, Jim. It will be all right. You see if it isn’t.”
Right or wrong, Jim was forced to leave the house at twenty minutes past eight and hurry to the locker rooms in the gymnasium, where Sargent, Johnny and Arnold, the quarter-back, were awaiting him and Gary. For a solid hour and ten minutes the two boys were coached in the new signals, and not until they were letter-perfect were they allowed to depart. By that time Jim’s head was in a whirl. He and Gary walked back together through the frosty darkness, discussing the chances of the telegram coming that night and speculating as to what its tenor would be when it did come.
“Like as not,” said Jim, who was tired and low-spirited by this time, “he will refuse to let us off.”
“I have a feeling it’s going to be all right,” answered Gary cheerfully. “Guess I’ll walk on to your place and see if it’s come.”