For the Honor of Randall Part 24

"Can't blame him. You'd be too."

Then conversation was interrupted by the splas.h.i.+ng of water, to be succeeded by various grunts and puffings, as the boys vigorously rubbed down after their practice.

"Telegram for you, Mr. Parsons," announced one of the messengers about the college, as he met our hero coming from the gymnasium. "I've been up to your room, but you weren't there."

"Thanks," murmured Tom, as he ripped off the end of the yellow envelope.

His companions watched his face curiously as he read the message.

"Hum, I've got to go home," announced Tom, a moment later.

CHAPTER XVI

FRANK'S SURPRISE

"Home!" exclaimed Sid.

"Going to leave?" inquired Phil.

"For good?" demanded the Big Californian. "Say now, that's tough! I was hoping this thing would at least hold off until after the games, Tom.

What's the row?"

"Oh, that lawsuit business, I suppose. Dad doesn't give any particulars.

He just says: 'Come home at once.'"

There was a silence among the inseparables for a moment or two, and then Sid said:

"Say, let's go to our room and talk this over. Maybe it isn't so bad as it seems."

"What do you mean?" asked Phil, as they walked on.

"Well, maybe Tom is only called home temporarily. His dad may want some help, or something like that, and he can come back in a short time. Let's think that, anyhow, and don't go to getting up a farewell banquet."

"Oh, come now!" objected Tom. "None of that farewell-feed business, even if I do have to go."

"You dry up!" commanded Frank. "I guess we'll give you a banquet if we want to, if you're going to leave. But you're not. I believe, as Sid does, that it's only temporary. You'll start right away, of course?"

"As soon as Moses lets me. I can catch the midnight train, and be at home in the morning. I guess it must be that dad needs my testimony, or an affidavit or something in connection with the lawsuit. It will be tried over again soon, and I helped dad on some of his books and papers, when he went into that horse deal. I'll go see Moses now, and get a permit."

"You'll have to break training," remarked Phil a bit regretfully, as Tom walked toward the residence of Dr. Churchill. "You'll have to work doubly hard when you come back."

"Oh, I guess Randall won't lose much by my absence for a few days,"

answered Tom with a laugh. "There are enough fellows to hold her end up."

"What's that?" cried Holly Cross, coming along at that moment. "No treason, Parsons. Randall wants every loyal son to stand up for her honor."

"Oh, of course," replied the pitcher. "I'll be on the job later," and he explained about the telegram.

Holly was sorry, and expressed the hope that Tom would quickly be back.

Soon, having secured the necessary permission from the venerable president, Tom was in his room with his chums.

"We'll help you pack," volunteered Phil. "You won't need much but a pair of pajamas and a toothbrush."

"I guess that's right," agreed Tom. "If I have to stay home for good I can send for the rest of my things."

"Perish the thought!" exclaimed Sid, and, for the first time since the receipt of the telegram, there came over the spirit of gaiety that had existed, a cloud of apprehension and sorrow. For, though they all hoped that Tom would not have to leave Randall, there was the ever-present possibility that events would so shape themselves.

"Well, you'll let us know, as soon as you hear, what the worst news is; won't you?" asked Frank, as he fairly threw himself on the old couch.

"We want----"

But the rest of Frank's sentence was lost in a momentous cracking sound, a splintering of wood and a tearing of cloth. Then a cloud of dust filled the room, and following the crash, there came a melancholy voice, saying:

"Oh sweet spirits of nitre! Now I have gone and done it! She's busted!"

"What?" cried Sid.

"Who?" demanded Tom.

"The old couch. I--I sat down too hard on it. The back is broken, I guess. Lend me a hand, somebody!"

Frank tried to struggle to his feet, but he had been pinned fast between the collapsed parts of the couch, and had to be fairly pulled out.

"Well, I should say you had done it," remarked Sid mournfully, as he surveyed the wreck of the old sofa.

"Can't it be mended?" asked Tom, trying to raise the two ends. The couch was like a s.h.i.+p with a broken back.

"Sure it can be fixed," put in Frank, rubbing his hips where he had been pinched. "It's only those extra boards that were nailed on last term. We can put fresh ones on--stronger ones, or, if we can't----"

Frank hesitated, and a cunning look came over his face.

"Well, what?" asked Tom suspiciously.

"Oh, nothing," answered Frank vaguely. "I--er--I guess it can be fixed all right." He bent over the sofa, and began propping up the ends on piles of books. "It'll do to sit on, if you do it carefully, until I can nail it up in the morning," he added.

"Well, don't _you_ sit on it," warned Phil significantly.

"And for cats' sake, don't let him wind the clock, or he'll bust the spring of that," added Tom.

"Keep out of that chair!" cried Sid, as Frank was about to sink into one of the big pieces of furniture. "You're a regular vandal. Everything you touch you bust."

"No, don't sit there, either," put in Phil, as Frank turned toward the other chair.

"Where will I sit then?"

"On the floor. That's solid enough," spoke Tom.