Part 32 (2/2)

”There they are!” cried Tom a few minutes later, as he and d.i.c.k walked toward the river. He had seen Nellie and Grace on a bench in the sun, surrounded by a number of other visitors. He hurried up to them, his brother following more slowly. ”Where are Dora and Sam?” he questioned, looking around.

”Dora asked to go back to the seminary,” answered Nellie, and looked sharply at d.i.c.k.

”To the seminary?” repeated Tom in wonder. ”Why, how's that?”

”She said she had a--headache.”

”Is that so? That's too bad! Why didn't she wait for d.i.c.k to take her over?”

”I--I don't know, Tom.” Nellie lowered her voice, so d.i.c.k might not hear. ”Something is wrong between them. I don't know what it is.”

”Wrong? Why, how can that be? I didn't hear of anything,” Tom now spoke in a whisper.

”Well, I am sure something is wrong. They acted queer when d.i.c.k came to the grandstand before the game commenced. Dora's heart was not in the game at all. She was ready to go before it was over.”

”By the way, Tom, who was that other girl?” asked Grace pointedly.

”What other girl?”

”The girl d.i.c.k was talking to here on the grandstand.”

”Oh, that was the farmer's daughter we helped when we first came to Ashton. Her name is Minnie Sanderson. We told you about her.”

”She seems to think a good deal of d.i.c.k,” was Nellie's comment.

”Why, you don't mean--” Tom looked around, expecting to see d.i.c.k close by. ”h.e.l.lo! Where did he go?” he cried.

”d.i.c.k is walking back to the college,” said Grace.

”Hi, d.i.c.k!” called out Tom to his brother. ”Where are you going?”

”Up to my room,” answered d.i.c.k.

”Yes, but see here--”

”Can't see now. I'll see you later,” answered d.i.c.k. He waved his cap and bowed. ”Good-by, Nellie! Good-by, Grace!” And then he turned on his heel and continued on his way to the dormitory building.

”Well, if this doesn't beat the Chinese!” murmured Tom.

”He must be very angry over something,” murmured Nellie.

”I think he might have come and shook hands when he said good-by,”

said Grace with a pout.

”I think so myself,” answered Tom. ”Say, do you think it's that girl?”

he went on, in his usual blunt fas.h.i.+on.

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