“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!”
“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 ship 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.
“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.”