Eager to hear what Loring had learned at Cotterville the day before, Clif and Tom hurried over to his room after supper. But only Wattles was there. Mister Loring, he explained, was visiting Mr. Babcock. Wattles’s tone was rather impressive. Since that visit to Wolcott yesterday he had carried himself with added dignity, for was not he, too, concerned in matters of deep moment? Had he not taken a part, though a humble one, in diplomatic affairs? Always a model of discretion, to-night Wattles was discreeter than ever, and when Tom asked: “Did he find out anything, Wattles?” he glanced toward windows and doors before, lowering his voice to a confidential murmur, he answered: “Yes, sir. Something extremely important, Mister Kemble, but I am not at liberty to mention it, sir.”
“Oh, roll your hoop,” grumbled Tom. “I guess he will tell us, all right.”
“Oh, yes, sir,” agreed Wattles. “Quite so, sir.”
But they didn’t learn very much from Loring, after all, for “Cocky” had advised against it. He did tell them about the journey to Cotterville, in the same antiquated but efficient vehicle that had brought Tom back from Danbury, and how Wattles, learning something of the mission, had advised stopping en route and securing disguises, Wattles favoring for himself a voluminous beard. But as to what he had actually observed at the Wolcott game Loring was vague and reticent. Tom got a trifle huffy and said he guessed Loring hadn’t found out anything much, anyway, if you asked him!
Monday morning Mr. Wyatt detained Tom after class and said: “At my suggestion, Kemble, the Faculty has released you from restrictions.” If he had expected Tom to exhibit delight he was disappointed. Tom said “Thank you, sir,” in a listless voice and looked a trifle bored.
“I hope,” said the instructor, “the news hasn’t displeased you?”
“Sir?” Tom viewed him questioningly. “Oh, no, sir.” Then, recollecting that the removal of restrictions would enable him to see the Wolcott game, he added with a touch of animation: “It’s great, Mr. Wyatt. I thought, maybe, I wouldn’t get to Cotterville Saturday.”
“I see. And, of course, you can play football again, Kemble.”
“Not much use, sir. The team gets through Wednesday.”
“Gets through? To be sure. So it does. Hm. I’d forgotten that.” Mr. Wyatt looked so puzzled that Tom wondered. Tom didn’t know, of course, that Mr. Babcock had dropped in on “Alick” last evening and that his, Tom’s, affairs had come up for discussion; nor that Mr. Wyatt’s puzzlement had to do with “Cocky’s” efforts to secure the removal of restrictions from a boy whose football usefulness was practically at an end! “Well,” continued the instructor, “I trust that hereafter—er—we shall not have to—” His thoughts returned to Mr. Babcock— “Hm, that will be all, Kemble.”