“Aren’t you coming back after study?”
“No, I’m going to bed.” He shot a questioning look at Evan. Evan smiled and shook his head slightly.
“What are you idiots signalling about?” asked Rob. “What’s up? Or isn’t it any of my business?”
“It isn’t,” answered Malcolm. “You’d better change your mind, though, Evan.”
“No, I guess not. I’m much obliged, though.”
“Well, if you do—” Malcolm left the sentence unfinished. “Good night, fellows.”
“Good night,” they echoed. Rob was already busy with the problem of the improvement of the foot-scraper, drawing strange lines on a fly-leaf. Evan went back to his algebra. After a while the bell in the tower of Academy Hall struck nine and he closed his book with a sigh and gathered his papers together. Rob was still drawing, his unruly hair straggling down over his puckered forehead. Evan watched amusedly for a minute. Then,
“Got your lessons, Rob?” he asked gravely.
“Eh? What?” Rob looked up with a startled frown. “What time is it?”
“Just struck nine.”