He pushed his suitcase forward where he could set his feet on it, let his knees dig into the back of the seat in front, and moodily stared along the length of the ill-lighted coach. No, it was too late to change his mind. Study hour was almost over now, and they’d have discovered his absence long since. Besides, there probably wasn’t any way of getting back, even if he wanted to; and, of course, he didn’t. Wyatt had played him a rotten trick, and to-morrow the old pest would maybe realize it! And, anyway, what was the good of being back there when he couldn’t play football again this season? Heck, he had done just what any fellow with an ounce of gumption and spirit would do, and he was glad of it!
These reflections brought him to the lights of the junction, and a few minutes later he was descending the car steps, one of a half-hundred passengers from the north. To find himself staring into the solemnly respectful countenance of Wattles was such a surprising experience that it was several seconds before he found his voice, and during those seconds his suitcase was removed from his grasp. Finally: “Why, Wattles, were you on that train?” he exclaimed.
“No, sir, I came by car,” replied the other. “Quite a bit colder, sir, isn’t it? One can do with a coat to-night, Mister Tom, and I see you have yours with you.” Suitcase in hand, Wattles led the way around the end of the station, and it was not until he had started across the track on the farther side that Tom realized what was happening.
“Hold on, Wattles! What’s the idea?” he asked, stopping.
“The car’s just over here, sir.”
“What car? I didn’t order any car!”
“No, sir. Mister Loring and Mr. Clif sent it. I was to tell you that everything was quite all right, sir. It’s all absolutely sub rosa, Mister Tom. We’ll get back to the school by midnight—”
“So that’s it?” Tom laughed roughly. “Expect me to go back with you in the car, eh? Well, nothing doing, Wattles. I’m off that dump for keeps. Let’s have that bag, please.”
“Certainly, sir, but if you wouldn’t mind just coming across to the car. I’ve a robe and you’ll be quite warm. Your train doesn’t leave for rather more than a half-hour, sir, and I’d like very much to deliver my message, Mister Tom.”
“Oh, well, all right,” Tom grumbled. “Go ahead. But I’ll tell you right here and now, Wattles, that it’s no good. It was mighty nice of them to do this, and all that, but I’ve no idea of going back.”