back before
it's dark."

Steve disappeared into the dim hallway and Mr. Edwards gave honest
expression to his sense of relief by elevating his feet to the seat of a
neighbouring chair, dropping the newspaper and, with a luxurious sigh,
composing himself for his Sunday afternoon nap. But peace was not yet
his, for a minute or two later Steve came hurrying in again. Mr. Edwards
opened his eyes with a frown.

"Sorry, sir," said Steve, "but Tom wants to see the catalogue."

His father nodded drowsily and Steve, securing the pamphlet, stole out
again with creaking Sunday shoes. Very quietly the front door went shut
and peace at last pervaded the house. In the library, Mr. Edwards,
dropping into slumber, was dimly conscious of a last disturbing thought.
It was that he was going to miss that boy of his a whole lot after next
week!

"It's all right," declared Tom Hall as he took the catalogue from Steve
with eager fingers. "At least, I'm pretty sure it is. He said at dinner
that he'd think it over, and when he says that it means--that it's all
right. What do you say, eh?"

"_Bully!_" That was what Steve said. And he said it not only once but
several times and with varying degrees of enthusiasm and volume. And, as
though fearing his chum would doubt his satisfaction, he accompanied
each "_Bully!_" with an emphatic thump on Tom's back. Tom, choking and
coughing, squirmed out of the way.

"Here! Ho-ho-hold on, you silly chump! You don't have to kill a fellow!"

"Won't it be dandy!" exclaimed Steve, beaming. "We can room together!
And--and----"

"You bet! And we can have a bully time on the train, too. Gee, I never
travelled as far as that alone!"

"I have! It's lots of fun! You eat your meals in a dining-car and
there's a smoking-room where you can sit and chin as late as you want to
and you get off at the stations and walk up and down the platform and
you tip the negro porters and----"

"Wouldn't it be great if we both made the football team, Steve? Of
course, you'll make it anyway, and I might if I had a little luck.
Townsend said last year I didn't do so badly, you know, and if----"

"Of course you'll make it! We both will; next year anyway. I'll bet
they've got lots of fellows on the team no better than you are, Tom.
Wait till I show you the athletic field. It's a corker!" And Steve's
fingers turned the pages of the school catalogue eagerly. "How's that?"
he demanded at last in triumph.

They paused under a dr