Tom, Dick, and Harriet

[At the finish]

Tom, Dick, and Harriet

By

Ralph Henry Barbour

Author of “The Crimson Sweater,” “The Half-Back,”
“For the Honor of the School,” etc.

With Illustrations

By C. M. Relyea

New York
The Century Co.
1907

Copyright, 1907, by
The Century Co.

THE DE VINNE PRESS

CONTENTS

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

TOM, DICK, AND HARRIET

[CHAPTER I]
A MEETING ON THE ICE

There had been almost a week of zero weather and the Hudson River in the neighborhood of Coleville and Ferry Hill was frozen hard and fast from shore to shore. They were cutting ice below Coleville, and Dick Somes had watched them for some time before crossing the river in the teeth of a bitter east wind and reaching the shelter of the opposite shore. There, with the trees protecting him from the icy blast, he turned up-stream once more and skated more leisurely along the margin.

It was the middle of an afternoon in early January, to be exact, the third day of the new year; and overhead sunlight and clouds held alternate sway. But the sun, already nearing the summit of the distant hills, held little warmth even when it managed to escape for a moment from the flying banks of cloud, and Dick, accustomed though he was to the intense cold of the western mountains and prairies, was glad to escape for a while from that biting wind which apparently entertained not the slightest respect for his clothing and which numbed him through and through.

The river was nearly deserted. Directly across from him, nearly a half-mile away, a few skaters were to be seen keeping to the smooth ice near shore. A mile below black specks moved about in front of the big ice-houses. But for the rest, Dick had the river to himself. Or, at least, so he thought until, rounding a slight curve, he caught sight of a figure seated on the edge of the bank. Perhaps the wind whipping the tops of the trees drowned the ring of Dick’s skates, or perhaps the girl with the brown sweater, gray skirt and white tam-o’-shanter was too much absorbed with the broken skate strap in her hand to heed anything else. At least, she was unaware of Dick’s approach, and so that youth had ample opportunity to observe his discovery as he skated slowly along.

Under the white tam-o’-shanter was a good deal of very red hair, and under the red hair was a pretty, healthy face with rosy cheeks, an impertinent little up-tilted nose, a pair of clear blue eyes and a small mouth which, just at this moment, was pursed in a pout of annoyance to match the frown on her forehead. The hanging skate and the broken strap told their tale and Dick, on his way past, wheeled and slid up to the distressed maiden.

[“Hello,” he said. “Break your strap?”]

The girl looked up with a start and studied him a moment in silence. Then she tossed the longer piece of the offending leather to him and he caught it deftly.

“Yes,” she said, “just look at the old thing! And I haven’t another and I’m half a mile from home. Roy told me I ought to have the other kind of skates and you can just wager I’m going to after this!”

“Well, you could have one of my straps,” answered Dick, “only I don’t wear them.”

“Yes, and I could pick one off the trees only they don’t grow there,” she answered sharply. Dick laughed and in a moment the girl joined him.

“I dare say it’s a joke,” she said, “but when you come out to skate you don’t just like to have to sit on a rock and hold your foot in your hand.”

“Oh, I can fix you up,” said Dick carelessly. “Here, wait a minute.” He drew off his gloves, tossed them with the broken strap on to the bank and drew the neck of his sweater down. “Out our way we generally mend things with barbed wire, but there doesn’t seem to be any handy, so I guess this’ll do until you get home.” With a final tug he brought forth a blue four-in-hand necktie and held it forth.

[“‘Hello,’ he said. ‘Break your strap?’”]

“But—but that’s your tie!” protested the girl.

“Yes, but I don’t need it. Besides, it’s old.”

“It looks brand-new,” answered the girl.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “Put your foot out, please.”

“But it’ll spoil it, won’t it?” she asked.

“Don’t care if it does. I’ve got lots more, and I never liked this one anyhow.”

“Well—” She put out the foot with the disabled skate and Dick substituted the blue necktie for the broken strap. When the skate was once more firmly in place and a nice blue bow-knot adorned the instep of her shoe the girl broke into laughter.

“Isn’t it lovely?” she cried, wriggling her foot around and viewing it at all angles. “Think of wearing neckties on your feet! I do wish I had one for the other foot too!”

“Sorry I haven’t any more,” laughed Dick. “How would a handkerchief do?”

She shook her head.

“No, I tried using my handkerchief, but it wasn’t big enough. Cold, isn’t it?”

“Awfully.” She got to her feet and tried the skate. It held well and she turned a grateful countenance to Dick. “I’m very much obliged,” she said sweetly; “and I’ll send the tie to you—or another one like it—when I get home. Do you live around here? I’ve never seen you before, I guess.”

“Oh, never mind,” he answered. “I don’t want it. You’ll have to go kind of easy with it, though, I guess, or it’ll get loose.” He rescued his gloves and drew them on his chilled fingers. “I’ll go along with you, if you like, in case it comes undone.”

“I asked you a question,” she replied imperiously. He looked at her amusedly.

“Oh, so you did,” he said. “You asked if I lived around here, didn’t you?” The girl’s head went into the air and the corners of her mouth came down.

“If you don’t care to answer, I’m sure you needn’t,” she said haughtily. Dick laughed.

“Oh, I don’t mind. I live over there.” He nodded across the river. “I’m at Hammond Academy.”

“Oh,” said the girl. “You talk as though you weren’t ashamed of it!”

“Ashamed of it?” he repeated in a puzzled way. “Why should I be? Isn’t Hammond all right?”

“For those who like it,” she replied.

“Then you don’t like it,” he laughed. “Why not?”

“Because—because—” She stopped and drew the collar of her brown sweater higher about her neck. “I’m going now,” she announced. “I don’t think you need come. I’m very much obliged. And I’ll send the necktie to you at Hammond.”

“Who are you going to send it to?” he asked.

“Oh! That’s so, who is it? I don’t want to know your name, but if you like to tell me—”

He shook his head.

“I saw you first,” he said. “You tell me your name and then I’ll tell you mine.”

The girl in the brown sweater had started off and Dick had taken his place beside her. For a moment they skated in silence. Then:

“I’m Harry Emery,” she announced.

“Oh,” he answered indifferently. “And do you live around here?” She turned upon him in surprise.

“You’re just pretending!” she said after a moment’s examination of his countenance.

“Pretending what?”

“That you don’t know who I am. Why, every Hammond boy knows the girl that beat their best skater last winter!”

“Did you do that?” he asked in admiration. “I’ll bet you couldn’t do it this winter.”

“Why not?” she demanded.

“Because I don’t believe you could beat me.”

“Want to try it?” she challenged. He shook his head.

“Not while you’ve got one skate strapped on with a necktie,” he answered. “But if you think you’d like a race some time you let me know.”

She looked him over speculatively and what she saw must have impressed her a little, for there was a note of uncertainty in her voice when she said:

“I guess I could beat you, Mr. Conceit. I beat Schonberg last winter. Can you skate faster than he can?”

“I don’t know. I never saw him.”

“Never saw him!” she cried. “How long have you been at Hammond?”

“Since about this time yesterday,” he replied smilingly.

“Oh!” she said. “You’ve just come? You weren’t there in the fall?”

He shook his head.

“Just got here yesterday afternoon and wish I was back where I came from,” he answered cheerfully. “There’s only about a dozen fellows over there and they’re the no-accountest lot I ever did see. I didn’t know when the new term began and so I just moseyed up here to find out. It doesn’t start until the day after to-morrow. Maybe by that time I’ll get sick of it and pull my freight for home.”

“Run away, do you mean?” asked Harry Emery breathlessly.

“Oh, no, just change my mind. I haven’t paid my tuition yet, and I guess I could light out if I wanted to, any time before school begins. And I’ve got a good mind to do it.”

“Serves you right for not going to a—well, another school!” said the girl.

“I suppose so. But I didn’t know. Dad’s lawyer in New York knew about Hammond and said it was all right. So I came up. Maybe I’ll like it better when the rest of the fellows get back.”

“No, you won’t,” answered Harry decidedly. “Why didn’t you come to our school?”

Dick looked amused.

“Is it a girl’s school?” he asked.

“Of course not, silly! It’s Ferry Hill, and everybody who knows anything says it’s the best school around here; the best school anywhere!”

“Oh, boys and girls both, eh? I don’t think I’d like that.”

“But it isn’t!”

“Isn’t it? But if you go there—?”

“I don’t go to school there; I just live there. My father is the Principal.”

“Oh, now I savvy,” said Dick. “Where is it? Is it nice? I’d like to take a look at it.”

“It’s just up here a bit further,” answered Harry. “You can see it from Hammond. Haven’t you noticed?” Dick shook his head.

“It’s on a hill,” continued Harry, “and you would have seen it if you weren’t blind. It’s the nicest school there is, and the boys are dandy. And we can beat Hammond at anything—foot-ball, base-ball, tennis, hock—well, not hockey, maybe, but we’ve only played one year; but we’ll beat them this year, at that, too!”

“Sounds like the real thing,” laughed Dick. “How big is it!”

“Well, it’s smaller than Hammond,” Harry acknowledged grudgingly, “but it—it’s more select! There are forty-two boys this year; there were forty-three last season when Otto Ferris was here.”

“What happened to him?” asked Dick.

“He got sick and went home. I’m glad of it; I hate him.”

“I tell you what you do,” said Dick after a moment. “You show me what your school is like. Maybe if I get any more soured on Hammond I’ll skate over with my trunk and try Ferry Hill.”

“Do you mean it?” cried Harry.

“Why not?”

“But—but you couldn’t!”

“Oh, yes I could. I can do as I like, I guess.”

“But they wouldn’t let you!”

“Who wouldn’t let me?”

“They—them—over at Hammond!”

“I’d like to see them try and stop me,” answered Dick with a laugh. “I haven’t entered their school yet, you know, and I don’t owe them anything but a day’s board and lodging. You produce your school, Miss Emery, and I’ll look it over.”

“And if you like it you’ll come?” cried Harry, her blue eyes dancing. Dick hesitated, then:

“Yes, I’ll come if I like it!” he answered.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Come on, then!” cried Harry. “I’ll race you to the boat-house!”

[CHAPTER II]
DICK SOMES IS PERSONALLY CONDUCTED

I don’t think Dick tried very hard to win that race; at least, he exhibited no superhuman efforts; and the result was that Harry Emery won by several yards, finishing on one skate and trailing a blue streamer from the other foot like a banner of victory. She subsided on the edge of the boat-house porch, smiling and triumphant.

“I won!” she cried.

“Easily,” answered Dick placidly.

“I told you I could,” continued Harry.

“I said so too, didn’t I?”

“No, you said I couldn’t; you know you did.”

“Guess I was wrong then.” There was a moment’s silence during which they each busied themselves with their skates. Presently Harry laid hers beside her and looked up with a frown.

“No, you were right,” she sighed. “I guess you can beat me. You weren’t trying just now. You’re like everybody else; you think because I’m a girl I’m not worth bothering with.”

“Nonsense! You skate finely,” answered Dick earnestly. “Better than any girl I ever saw.”

“Any girl!” echoed Harry scathingly. “That’s it! Girls can’t skate! Why, there isn’t one at Madame Lambert’s who can keep up with me for a minute. I can skate faster than any boy here, too!”

“Well, that’s doing pretty well, isn’t it?” asked Dick with a smile as he tossed his skates down beside hers.

“I don’t like to be beaten—by any one,” grieved Harry.

“Then you mustn’t race with me.”

“Pshaw! You’d be polite and let me beat you—as you did just now. I—I hate polite people!”

“No, I wouldn’t,” said Dick grimly. “When you race with me you’ve got to go as hard as you know how, for I’ll beat you if I can. And if you can’t stand being beaten you want to keep out of it, Miss Emery.”

Harry studied him a moment in silence.

“I guess nobody likes to be beaten,” she said finally; “but I can stand it as well as the next fellow. What’s your name?”

“Somes, Dick Somes; Richard for long.”

“My name’s Harriet ‘for long,’” she laughed. “But nobody calls me Harriet; it isn’t a very pretty name, is it?”

“Harriet? I don’t believe I ever heard it before. I was wondering how you came to be named Harry. Harry suits you better, I guess.”

“How old are you, Dick?”

“Sixteen last August.”

“I’m fifteen. Wouldn’t you think I was older?” she asked anxiously.

“Heaps,” he laughed. “I thought you were about twenty.”

“I don’t like to be made fun of,” replied Harry.

“There’s a good deal you don’t like, isn’t there?” he asked with a grin.

“I sha’n’t like you if you talk like that,” she answered severely.

“Then I sha’n’t come to your old school.”

“It isn’t an ‘old school!’” flashed Harry. “And I don’t care whether you come or not!”

“Oh, yes, you do,” he answered soothingly. “If I don’t come we won’t have that race.”

“I don’t want to race you!”

“Oh, all right. Then it’s me for Hammond again. I guess it’s the better school of the two, anyway.”

“I’m sure it’ll suit you better,” she answered angrily. Then she caught sight of the merriment in his eyes, hesitated and laughed softly. “You—you almost made me angry,” she declared.

“Almost, eh? Then you must be a terror, Miss Emery, when you go the limit. Aren’t you going to show me around? It’s getting late and I’m freezing to death.”

“Come on,” answered Harry. “You can leave your skates here; they’ll be all right. And here’s your tie. I’m afraid, though, it’s kind of frazzled and—oh, it’s torn! Look!”

“Don’t you care,” he said. “Here, I’ll carry your skates.”

“No,” she answered decisively, “I’ll carry them myself. I don’t like to be waited on.”

“I guess if I came here to school,” laughed Dick, “it would take most of my time finding out what you didn’t like. I wouldn’t have any time for lessons.”

“Do you like to study?” Harry asked.

“Pretty well; everything but languages. Which way do we go? Up this path?”

“Yes. Oh, I forgot. That’s the boat-house there. We have a crew and we race Hammond every spring. Last year we were beaten.”

“I never saw a boat race,” said Dick. “It must be good sport.”

“It’s perfectly great,” said Harry, “and awfully exciting! This is the Grove and the buildings are up the hill, only you can’t see them yet. I’ll go ahead and show you the way.”

The path wound through a thick growth of trees, maples and oaks and others, climbing steadily upward. Presently the trees thinned and ceased and Dick followed his guide through a gap in a breast-high hedge which, as Harry informed him, marked “inner bounds.” I have no intention of recording the fund of information which Harry showered upon Dick’s defenseless head. Needless to say that she colored her remarks with the rose-tint of enthusiasm and drew a most alluring picture of life at Ferry Hill. She rattled on breathlessly and continuously after she had once become warmed up to her task and Dick’s brain began to reel under the torrent of information.

He was shown Burgess Hall, with the dormitories and the dining-room, School Hall, with its twilighted class rooms, the Cottage, where Harry lived—Harry pointed out her room and described the furnishings minutely, even to the pink paper on the walls—and the Gymnasium, which was locked, and consequently remained a mystery for the present. Back of the gym a gate in the hedge gave access to the Athletic Field, with its snow-filled stands and gibbet-like goal-posts rising forlornly out of the white waste. Harry said there was a running track there, but Dick had to take her word for it. Then they retraced their steps and Harry pointed out, at a distance, the stables and barns and the orchard beyond.

“I’ll show you my menagerie some time,” she said. “It lives in the barn. I’ve got a parrot, three lovely Angora kittens, a squirrel, four guinea-pigs, six rabbits, lots and lots of white mice, heaps of pigeons, and a dog.”

“Phew!” said Dick. “Is that all?”

“The dog’s name is Snip,” Harry continued. “He’s a fox terrier. Last year I had two black rabbits and I called them Pete and Repeat, and then there was a third and I had to call it Threepete. Isn’t that silly?”

“I think it’s a pretty good name,” laughed Dick.

“Really? The parrot’s name is Methuselah; he’s awfully old, I guess, but he’s a perfect dear. You’ll love Methuselah, Dick!”

“Maybe, but I don’t believe so. I don’t like parrots.”

“But he isn’t just—just an ordinary parrot,” said Harry earnestly. “He’s awfully clever and wise; he knows heaps of things, really!”

“I like dogs and horses better,” answered Dick. “Have you got a horse?”

“No, there are two in the stable, but they don’t belong to me. Next year, though, papa is going to get me a pony and a cart. Then I shall drive to school every day.”

“Where’s your school?” Dick asked.

“Over there at Silver Cove. It’s a very nice school.”

They had reached the dormitory again and Dick stopped and looked about him. It was getting dark rapidly and the campus, deep with snow, looked bleak and forlorn. Even Harry had to acknowledge that fact to herself and her hopes of inducing Dick to cast his lot with Ferry Hill began to dwindle. Westward, above the tops of the trees which crowded the slope, lay the frozen river, and beyond, on the farther bank, a few yellow points of light marked the location of Coleville and Hammond Academy.

“Of course,” ventured Harry, “things don’t look very nice now, but you ought to see them when the trees are out and—and all.”

But her voice didn’t hold much conviction and Dick merely nodded his head as he turned toward the path down the slope.

“Well, I’m much obliged for showing me around,” he said. “I’d better be getting back.”

“Yes,” sighed Harry. “I—I’ll walk down to the river with you. You might lose your way.” She didn’t have the courage to ask him whether he liked Ferry Hill well enough to come there. She didn’t believe he did. She wished he might have seen it in the morning when the sun was shining warmly on the red brick walls and the sky was blue overhead. She was disappointed. Dick seemed a rather nice sort, if somewhat too—too self-assured, and it would have pleased Harry hugely to have wrested a prospective student away from the rival school. Besides, the sum of money which the advent of another student meant was not to be sneered at; Ferry Hill’s expenses so nearly matched her income that a half-year’s tuition and board might mean quite a little when the accounts were balanced. Doctor Emery, as Harry well knew, had been rather discouraged for the last two or three years. There was only the one dormitory hall and forty-six boys filled it to overflowing, and for that many students the expense was as great as it would be for twice the number. The Doctor wanted a new dormitory, but didn’t know how he was going to get it. With room for say twenty more students the school would pay very well. As it was, it sometimes didn’t pay at all; there were years when the books balanced the wrong way and the Doctor and his family stayed at Ferry Hill all through the hot weather. Harry thought of all this as she led the way down the hill through the dim grove, and as a result what conversation ensued was somewhat spasmodic. At the boat-house Dick busied himself with his skates and Harry looked on silently; but finally:

“I don’t believe you had any idea of leaving Hammond, anyway,” she exclaimed aggrievedly.

“Why not?” asked Dick.

“Because—because how could you, if your folks wanted you to go there—”

“My folks didn’t have much to do with it,” answered Dick, pulling his gloves on. “There’s only my dad, anyway. He didn’t know anything about the schools here and left it to his lawyer in New York. I said I didn’t much care, and Mr. Warwick said he’d heard that Hammond was a very good place, so after Dad sailed I came up here.”

“Is your father a sailor?” asked Harry.

“Oh, no,” laughed Dick, “he’s a mining man. He owns mines and buys and sells them. My mother died a couple of years ago and we broke up housekeeping and went moseying around, Dad and I. Then when he found he’d have to go to London and Paris for two or three months he didn’t know what to do with me. So I said I’d go to school somewhere in the East; I’d never been very much, anyway. So that’s how it happened; savvy?”

“Yes, but what’s ‘savvy’?” asked Harry.

“Oh, it means ‘Do you understand?’”

“Then if—if you did want to leave Hammond you could?” she asked. Dick nodded.

“Sure as shooting! Why not? I told Dad I wouldn’t stay if I didn’t like it, and he said in that case I could go back to Helena or join him in London.”

“My!” exclaimed Harry. “Why don’t you go to London?”

“I’ve been there twice,” Dick answered.

“Then—then you—you’ll stay at Hammond?” asked Harry wistfully.

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Dick. “Maybe.”

“And you didn’t like Ferry Hill?”

“Oh, yes, I did,” he answered stoutly. “It seems a mighty nice school.”

“But you won’t come?”

Dick hesitated, skating about backward and forward along the edge of the ice and swinging his arms to keep warm.

“I don’t know,” he answered finally. “I’ll think it over. When does school begin?”

“Day after to-morrow, but you’d have to get here to-morrow before six in the evening.”

“Well, if I come—I’ll think about it anyway. And thanks for showing me around. I’ve had a real jolly time. Good-night, Miss Emery.”

“Good-night,” answered Harry sadly. “I—I wish you’d decide to come.”

“Well, maybe I will,” he shouted back as he skated off. “But if I’m not here by six to-morrow tell your father not to wait supper for me. Good-night!” And laughing at his joke Dick Somes sped off into the darkness across the frozen river.

Harry stood there shivering until she could no longer hear the ring of his skates. Then she turned and went disappointedly back up the hill.

[CHAPTER III]
THE BRAND FROM THE BURNING

“Well, you old duffer! I thought you were going to meet me at the station for the eleven o’clock.”

“I really meant to, Roy,” answered Chub Eaton, “but my train was nearly an hour late and I got in just four minutes after you’d gone. How are you? Did you have a good time Christmas?”

“Bully,” answered Roy Porter. “Did you?”

“Oh, swell! I wish you’d been out with me.”

“I wanted to go,” answered Roy gravely, “but my folks were afraid I’d get lost in the smoke. I told them that was hard on Pittsburg, but—”

Roy rolled over backward on Sidney Welch’s bed just in time to avoid the slipper which Chub hurled.

“But they said they knew the place, Chub,” he ended.

“You run away and play,” grunted Chub as he returned to the task of unpacking his trunk.

They were in the Junior Dormitory and up and down the two sides of the long room was bustle and excitement and noise. The last train arriving before six o’clock was in and had brought its load of students. Trunks and bags were being unpacked, greetings exchanged and adventures related, and every one was doing his best to get settled before dinner-time. Roy, who had arrived on an earlier train and whose belongings were already stowed away in his locker in the Senior Dormitory on the floor above, had met Chub on the arrival of the coach and had carried one end of the battered steamer trunk up-stairs. Now he was reclining comfortably on Sidney’s bed in direct violation of the dormitory rules, and bothering his chum as much as possible. Sid, by the way, a short, chunky boy of fifteen, was down at the far end of the hall swapping marvelous tales of vacation experiences with Chase; his voice, which was at the changing period, alternately dying away in gruff whispers and soaring shrilly to a squeaky falsetto.

“Just listen to Sid,” chuckled Chub as he rolled a brown sweater up and stuffed it into the locker. “Sounds as though he were knocking up flies with his voice, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” answered Roy. “Say, Chub, did I ever tell you about the man who went to Pittsburg?”

“Oh, you dry up,” answered Chub good-naturedly.

“But it’s a true story, honestly, Chub! Of course the man didn’t go there just for fun; he had to; it was a matter of life or death, I guess. Well, when he got back some one asked him if he’d seen Pittsburg. ‘No,’ says he, ‘but I’ve been there!’”

“Go on,” answered Chub. “Have a good time. I don’t mind. I’d rather live in Pittsburg where you can’t see than in New York where you don’t want to.”

“I guess maybe that’s humor,” said Roy thoughtfully; “but it’s—er—subtle, Chub, awfully subtle. Could you give me a hint? Just tell me what letter the answer begins with!”

“I’ll tell you what letter your name begins with,” laughed Chub. “And it comes between E and G.”

“What am I? A musical note?”

“No, a flat!”

“I suppose you think you’re sharp!”

Chub Eaton groaned loudly as he slammed the lid of his trunk down. He was seventeen years of age, and looked older; was a trifle thick-set, had brown hair that was almost brick-red, alert brown eyes, a good-looking, expressive, good-humored face, and an ease of manner and a self-assurance which his enemies called conceit and which his friends loved him for. He was in his last year at Ferry Hill and consequently in the First Senior Class. The preceding spring he had succeeded himself as captain of the base-ball team. While well-liked by almost every fellow in school, he had not attained to the popularity which his companion commanded.

Roy Porter lacked his chum’s air of self-sufficiency and in looks and manner unconsciously invited friendship. He was the school leader, and reigned supreme with none to dispute his title. Besides that, until the election following Ferry Hill’s defeat of Hammond on the latter’s gridiron, a few weeks ago, he had been captain of the foot-ball team, an honor alone sufficient to turn his head had that appendage not been very stiffly attached. Unlike his predecessor in the office of school leader, one Horace Burlen, who had left school the previous spring and was now playing the precarious rôle of freshman in a near-by college, Roy ruled with a gentle hand and maintained his sway by honest, manly service in behalf of the school and his fellows. The younger boys worshiped him, secretly resolved to be Roy Porters when they grew up, and meanwhile copied his ties and stockings and cocked their hats as he wore his.

Roy also was a First Senior and would graduate in June; and like Chub—whose real name, by the way, was Thomas—was seventeen years old. He was tall, well-built, athletic, with wavy light-brown hair, a frank good-looking face and a pair of attractive gray-blue eyes.

“Say, Chub,” he exclaimed suddenly; “I almost forgot to tell you. What do you suppose Harry’s been up to now?”

“Ask me something easier,” begged Chub.

“Swiping students from Hammond!”

“What!”

“Fact! She was down at the station and told me about it. It’s the funniest thing you ever heard, Chub!” And Roy laid himself back on the bed and laughed consumedly.

“Funny’s no word for it,” said Chub soberly. “I shall die of laughing in a moment.”

“W-wait till I tell you!” gasped Roy.

“I am waiting, you gump! Stop that fuss and tell me! Don’t keep a fellow waiting all day.”

“Well, listen.” And Roy recounted Harry’s meeting with Dick Somes, embellishing the tale as fancy dictated, until Chub too was struggling with his laughter.

“But—but she didn’t land him after all?” asked Chub.

“She doesn’t know yet. She told him he’d have to be here by six o’clock to-night. She pretends she’s sure he’ll be here, but I guess he was just fooling her.”

“Too bad,” said Chub. “Wouldn’t it have been great if he had left Hammond and come here, eh? Wouldn’t we have had a peachy joke on them?”

“And wouldn’t they have hated Mr. Dick Summers, or whatever his name is? But isn’t Harry the limit?”

“She’s plucky, all right,” answered Chub with a grin. “Fancy having the cheek to try and—”

“Pluck a brand from the burning,” suggested Roy.

“Exactly! Suppose we run over to the Cottage and see if he’s shown up?”

“Oh, he hasn’t come,” answered Roy, glancing at his watch. “It’s two minutes of six now.”

“What of it? He might have come half an hour ago and—” Chub, who was facing the dormitory door, stopped and stared over Roy’s shoulder. “Hello!” he ejaculated. Roy turned and followed his gaze.

Just inside the doorway stood a big, broad-shouldered, blond-haired youth of apparently sixteen years of age. He wore a fur cap, a gray sweater and dark knickerbockers, while in one hand was a suit case and in the other a pair of skates. In spite of the fact that the entire hall was observing him silently and curiously he appeared not the least bit embarrassed; in fact his self-possession was then and afterward something to wonder at. After a slow glance about the hall he had turned his gray eyes on Chub and Roy. There was a careless, good-humored smile on his singularly homely and at the same time perplexingly attractive face.

[“Where do I live, do you suppose?” he asked.]

“I don’t know,” answered Roy, rising to go to him. “But I guess you belong on the next floor. Did the Doctor tell you which dormitory you were to go to?”

“Haven’t seen the Doctor,” was the calm reply. “I just got here. What time is it, anyway?”

“Just six,” answered Roy.

“That’s all right then.” The newcomer set his bag down and placed his skates on top of it. Then he threw his fur cap and gloves on to the nearest bed and started to get out of his sweater.

But Chub, who had said no word so far, but upon whose countenance a beatific grin had been growing and spreading with each instant, broke the silence explosively.

[“‘Where do I live, do you suppose?’ he asked”]

“Where’d you come from?” he shouted.

“Across the river,” answered the other.

“From Hammond?”

“Yep. From Hammond.”

Chub gave a whoop and hurdled the two intervening beds, landing on top of the suit case, sending the skates clanging across the floor and violently grasping the hand of the astounded youth.

“It’s he, Roy!” he yelled delightedly. “It’s the Brand from the Burning!”

“That’s me,” laughed Dick Somes. “Did she tell you I was coming?”

“She said she expected you,” answered Roy; “but—well—”

“We didn’t think you’d have the cheek to do it,” ended Chub admiringly. “Were they mad? How did you get away from them?”

“Oh, easy enough. I hadn’t entered, you see. So I paid them for two days’ board and lodging, sent my trunk across by sleigh and pulled my suit case after me. It was quick work,—had to be—but the only way I could manage it. It scratched the suit-case up a bit, but that doesn’t matter. I guess I’d better go and see the boss now and get my ticket punched.”

“What ticket?” asked Roy.

“Oh, I mean see the Doctor, take out my papers, register, put my name down, get enrolled, whatever you call it,” explained Dick. “Miss Emery said I’d have to be here by six and I thought I wasn’t going to make it. I lost my bearings skating across and headed away down-stream. That made me late. When do we feed?”

“Right away,” answered Roy. “But you’d better go over to the Cottage first. Chub and I’ll show you the way. This is Chub here; his full name’s Mr. Thomas Eaton. By the way, your name’s Summers, isn’t it?”

“Somes,” was the reply. He shook hands warmly with Chub. “Glad to meet you,” he said. Then he turned to Roy. “You’re Roy; I’ve forgotten your last name, but Miss Emery spoke about you. Hope we’ll be friends.” Then he faced the rest of the fellows who had edged as close as politeness would allow and who had been watching the proceedings with unconcealed interest. “My name’s Dick Somes,” he announced smilingly, “and I’m glad to meet all you chaps. We’ll get acquainted later. Now if you’ll lead the way,” he suggested to Roy, “I’ll get my name down on the pay-roll.”

“Say, Somes,” said Chub, as they clattered down-stairs and across the hall, “I don’t usually welcome strangers in quite such a demonstrative way, you know, but Roy had just been telling me about Harry and you, and it seemed such a blamed good joke that I just had to let out.”

“That’s all right,” Dick laughed. “I’m tickled to death to find some one with what they call human emotions. Why, say, you chaps, I’ve been hibernating over at Hammond for two whole days with a dozen wooden Indians who wouldn’t even say ‘Good Morning’ to me until I shouted it! Talk about your frozen faces! Phew! But you fellows act as though you had blood in your veins! I thought maybe I could stand it over there, but when the push began to drift in this afternoon I saw that I’d either have to get out or do murder. They looked me over as though I was some sort of a dime museum freak until I thought I’d have to eat glass to please ’em. The first bunch feased me; I didn’t wait to see what the rest looked like, but grabbed my pack and hit the trail, and here I am. All I ask is kind treatment and a comfortable home.”

“Well, here we are,” laughed Roy. “I hope the Doctor will let you stay.”

“Oh, he will. I’ve got the money right here and a bunch of letters that thick. And if he wants any more references I’ll refer him to Hammond.”

Roy rang the bell and in a moment the door was thrown open by Harry.

[The imaginary letter]