“What’ll I say?” demanded Toby. “Who do I write to? Hadn’t dad ought to do it instead of me?”
“Just as you like, Toby. I guess it doesn’t matter who writes it. You’ll have to give your parents’ names and the names of two other residents of your town. It’s a good idea to have one of them your minister. They like that,” added Arnold, wisely.
That application was posted inside of an hour, Toby dropping it into the box at the postoffice after saying good-night to Arnold at the landing, and for the next week he was on tenter-hooks of anxiety. But the answer came in due time, and Toby slit the envelope with trembling fingers.
The school secretary acknowledged the receipt of Mr. Tobias Tucker’s letter, enclosed a form for him to fill out and sign and instructed him to mail form and remittance for fifty-five dollars before the beginning of the Fall Term. Toby clapped his cap on his head and tore out of the house in search of Arnold.
CHAPTER XIX
TOBY ACCEPTS A CHALLENGE
Of course Arnold was quite as pleased as Toby, and they spent the rest of that forenoon in laying glorious plans for the school year and in discussing the manners and customs of Yardley Hall. Arnold proudly reiterated that it was the best school in the country, and Toby gravely and unhesitatingly agreed. He already felt a certain proprietorship in that institution and was every bit as ready as his chum to fight in defense of its honor and fame! Fortunately for them, the ferry business was slack today, otherwise they would never have been able to talk all they wanted to on such an engrossing subject.
Passengers were “queer birds, anyway,” to quote Arnold. One day they would appear in numbers, and the next day, as like as not, only two or three would turn up. But, passengers or no passengers, the trip across to Johnstown was a pleasant diversion, saving when the weather was bad, and both boys enjoyed it. And so did Phebe as often as she went with them, which was likely to be at least once a day. They never failed to enjoy the leisurely journey back and forth, for there was always plenty to talk about and always plenty to see. Launches and sailboats dotted the bay in fair weather, and now and then a rusty-sided oilboat or collier was passed, or a fussy, whistling tug rolled by with a tandem of scows in tow. Several times Frank Lamson joined them, and, since he invariably insisted on paying his way, could not very well be refused a seat in the launch. Frank, however, was less objectionable to Toby by now, whether he really strove to behave himself or because Toby was growing used to him. In any case, Frank could be very good company when he chose, just as he could be most intolerably offensive when in the mood.
He was in the mood one fine, crisp afternoon when, having loitered down to the landing, hands in pockets and a somewhat discontented look on his face, he decided at the last instant to make the trip. Toby gravely accepted the passage money and silently wished Frank anywhere but in the launch. On the way across Arnold railed Frank on a defeat suffered a few days before by the Spanish Head baseball team, which did not in the least improve the latter’s disposition. However, the Johnstown landing was made without unpleasantness and the lone passenger, a little dark-visaged peddler who in some miraculous manner carried two huge, bursting valises, was set ashore. No one appeared for the return trip and the launch presently turned her nose homeward with Toby at the engine and Arnold and Frank in the stern, the former steering. It was Arnold who introduced the subject of bathing with a careless remark to the effect that the water looked dandy and he wished he had his bathing-suit along.