“Wait as long as you like,” he said. He went to his closet and got down his bag, a big yellow Gladstone. Then he pulled open the drawers of his bureau and began transferring some of his clothes to the bag.
“Are you going away?” asked Gerald.
“Yes, going home over Sunday,” replied Tubby. “I’m sick of this place. Got to have a change.” He wandered along his side of the room, adding a book or a photograph or some trifle to the contents of the bag. Finally it was filled and strapped. Tubby set it at the foot of his bed, placed coat and umbrella over it and drew his chair to the table. For the next quarter of an hour he wrote, pausing and scowling over his task. When he had finished three notes sealed and addressed, lay beside him. He looked at his watch. It was after one o’clock.
“What time does your train go?” asked Gerald politely.
“One-forty-three,” was the answer in preoccupied tones. Then, “Say, Pennimore, I wish you’d do me a favor. I want this note to get to Payson, the coach, right away. Will you take it to him? I won’t have time myself. Do you mind?”
“Not at all; I’ll be very glad to,” replied Gerald eagerly.
“All right. And here’s one for Dan. You might hand it to him when you see him. It’s something I meant to see him about before I went. It—it’s kind of important. You won’t forget it, will you?”
“No, I’ll find him right away.”
“Well, but the one to Payson is the most important. So just look him up first. I’m much obliged.” Tubby dropped the third note into his pocket and put on his cap. “I’ve got to go across to the Office a minute. Coming along? I don’t think Dan’s coming up here. You’ll probably find him around the grounds somewhere.”
They went out together, Tubby leading the way along the corridor and down the stairs. Outside he remarked: