Part 4 (2/2)
”We'll not say a word if you wish it that way,” answered d.i.c.k.
”I don't think they'll bother me again after the way you treated them,” added the girl.
She led them toward the barn and introduced her father, a fat and jolly farmer of perhaps fifty. Mr. Sanderson had been off on a short drive with one horse and he readily agreed to take them to Brill College for two dollars.
”Just wait till I put in a fresh team,” he said. ”Then I'll get you over to the college in less than an hour and a quarter.”
While he was hooking up he explained that he had been to a nearby village for a dry battery for the electric doorbell.
”We don't use the bell much, but I hate to have it out of order,” he explained.
”That's why it didn't ring,” said Sam to his brothers.
The carriage was soon ready and the three dress-suit cases were piled in the rear. Then the boys got in and Mr. Sanderson followed.
”Good-by!” called the boys to Minnie Sanderson.
”Good-by,” she returned sweetly and waved her hand.
”Maybe we'll get down this way again some day,” said d.i.c.k.
”If you do, stop in,” returned the girl.
The farmer's team was a good one and they trotted out of the yard and into the road in fine shape. d.i.c.k was beside the driver and his brothers were in the rear. The carriage left a cloud of dust behind as it bowled along over the dry country road.
”First year at Brill?” inquired Mr. Sanderson on the way.
”Yes,” answered d.i.c.k.
”Fine place--no better in the world, so I've heard some folks say--and they had been to some of the big colleges, too.”
”Yes, we've heard it was all right,” said Tom. ”By the way, where is Hope Seminary?”
”About two miles this side of Brill.”
”Then we'll pa.s.s it, eh?” came from Sam.
”Well, not exactly. It's up a bit on a side road. But you can see the buildings--very nice, too--although not so big as those up to Brill.
I'll point 'em out to you when we get there.”
”Do you know any of the fellows at Brill?” questioned Tom, nudging Sam in the ribs as he spoke.
”A few. Minnie met some of 'em at the baseball and football games, and once in a while one of 'em stops at our house. But we are most too far away to see much of 'em.”
Presently the carriage pa.s.sed through a small village which the boys were told was called Rushville.
”I don't know why they call it that,” said Mr. Sanderson with a chuckle. ”Ain't no rushes growing around here, and there ain't no rush either; it's as dead as a salted mackerel,” and he chuckled again.
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