For the Honor of Randall Part 17

"Who's it from, Phil?"

"Let's read it; will you?"

"He doesn't dare?"

These comments greeted the advent of Phil into the room of the inseparables, after a late lecture, one day about a week following the events narrated in the last chapter. The cause was a pink envelope that was exposed in a prominent place on Phil's bureau--an envelope flanked by a comb, brush, a handkerchief box and a red tie, to be thus rendered all the more conspicuous. Tom, Sid and Frank, having entered the room ahead of their chum, and seeing the missive, had thus called his attention to it.

"What's all the excitement?" asked Phil innocently enough.

"As if he didn't know!" jeered Tom.

"I'll give you a quarter if you let me read it first," offered Frank.

"Double it!" cried Sid promptly.

"Oh, it's a letter," spoke Phil, as he strode over to his bureau and picked up the missive. Then, with provoking slowness, he turned it over, scrutinized the postmark, looked at the dainty seal in wax, and made as if to place the letter back on the bureau.

"Open it you rascal!" ordered Tom.

"What for?" asked Phil slowly. "It's only a letter from sis. It will keep until I get my coat off, I guess."

"A letter from your sister--not!" declared Sid. "I--er--I know----"

"Oh, you know her writing as well as all that, do you?" asked Phil quickly. "I congratulate you. Maybe I'm wrong."

Once more he scrutinized the address. It bore his name in big, and rather sprawling characters.

"On second thoughts I guess it isn't from sis," he went on. "At least she didn't direct the envelope. It's from Madge Tyler, if I'm any judge."

"What's she writing about?" Tom wanted to know quickly, so quickly that the others glanced at him, and Tom had the grace to blush.

"We'll see," went on Phil. Then, with exasperating slowness he proceeded to read the letter. Next he carefully folded it, placed it back in the envelope, and proceeded to get into his lounging garments.

"Well?" snapped Tom, unable to keep silent longer.

"Oh, I don't know whether you fellows will be interested or not," said Phil slowly. "The letter was from my sister, just as I guessed, but she got Madge to direct the envelope."

"But what's it about?" demanded Sid.

"Oh, the annual May walk, which takes place the last of April, is about to be held at Fairview," went on Phil, "and sis thought maybe I'd like to go with her."

"You?" cried Tom.

"Take your own sister?" added Sid.

"Well, unless some one else relieves me----"

"I will!" cried Frank and Sid together.

"Thanks," laughed Phil. "Then I guess I can help some other brother out.

But, say, do you fellows want to go? Sis said I could ask you all. It's the usual affair, you know. The young ladies of Fairview, under the eagle eye of Miss Philock and her aides, will go for a May walk, to gather flowers and look on nature as she is supposed to be. There will be a little basket lunch, and the usual screams when the girls think they see a snake. Want to go?"

"Sure!" cried Tom, and the others chorused an eager a.s.sent.

"It will be a good time then, to ask the girls to come to the athletic meet," said Sid. "They will come; won't they?"

"Oh, I guess so," replied Phil. "They won't root for Randall, though, when there's going to be a team from their own school."

"Oh, we couldn't expect it," said Tom. "But we'll have a good time on the May walk." And forthwith he proceeded to look over his stock of neckties.

Not many at Randall were favored as were our four heroes in the matter of invitations to the May walk, and when it became known that Tom and his chums had one of the coveted screeds, their good offices were bespoken on all sides, that they might use their influence for others.

"Nothing doing," replied Tom to Holly Cross, Kindlings, and a few other kindred spirits. "Sorry, but we can't do it."

"And the nerve of Shambler," said Sid one afternoon, as he joined his chums. "He wanted to know if we couldn't introduce him to some new girl at Fairview. The one he did know, shook him."

"He's getting worse all the while," declared Tom. "There is something about that fellow that I can't cotton to."

"But he's a good runner and jumper," declared Phil.

"Altogether too good," declared Tom. "If he did as well at Harkness, as he's doing here in practice, why did he leave?"

"Maybe he wanted to get in a bigger college."

"Harkness isn't much smaller than Randall, and it's got a heap sight more money. He could have stayed on if he had wanted to," and Tom shook his head. Two or three things in regard to Shambler recurred to him, and he found himself seriously wondering whether or not there was not some mystery about the new student.

"Oh, pshaw! I guess I'm getting too fussy," decided Tom. "I must see about getting my trousers pressed for that walk."

Somewhat informally among themselves, the four lads had apportioned the four girls. Tom was to take Madge, Phil would escort Helen Newton, Sid would take Ruth Clinton, and Frank Simpson would look after Mabel Harrison. This pleased the lads, but they had yet to ask the girls if this arrangement suited. To Tom was delegated this task, and one afternoon he set off with three notes, his own to be a verbal message.

The choice had fallen on his shoulders as he had the last lecture period free, and could make time to go to Fairview. It was with rather pleasant feelings that our hero took the trolley to the co-educational inst.i.tution, and, when he neared the place, as it was such a fine day, he got out about a mile from his destination, deciding to walk the rest of the way.

As Tom turned down a gra.s.sy lane, that was rich in a carpet of green, he heard, coming from a clump of bushes just ahead of him, a cry of pain--a cry in a girl's voice.

"Some one's in trouble!" Tom decided at once, and, naturally he hurried to the rescue. He saw, reaching up that she might pull a large coc.o.o.n from a high bush, a pretty girl, a stranger, but who bore unmistakably the air of a Fairview student. In an instant Tom saw what the trouble was.

The bush was one containing big thorns, and, in reaching for the coc.o.o.n, the girl's arm had caught on a sharp point. She was held by her sleeve in such a way that either to advance her arm, or withdraw it, meant to further pierce her flesh with the thorn.

"Oh!" she cried, and then Tom came on the scene.

"Perhaps I can help you," he said, with a lifting of his hat. "Do you want the coc.o.o.n?"

"Yes. Oh, but don't mind that now! If you can break off the thorn, so I can get my arm out----"

A spasm of pain pa.s.sed over her face, and Tom acted quickly. He wore heavy gloves, but the thorns pierced even through them. But he did not mind, and soon had broken away the offending branch, not before, however, the girl, in moving her arm, had inflicted a long scratch that bled freely.

"Oh!" she murmured, and she reeled a bit as she stepped back. "I--I can't bear the sight of blood!" she added.