Great gobble! We'd better be scooting back
to school. Come on. I'm all right now, though I _was_ a bit lame after
that tumble."
The two boys scrambled up the bank and set out along the river path. The
sun had gone down behind the mountains, and purple shadows were creeping
up from the river. The tower of the Academy Building still glowed
crimson where the sun-rays shone on the windows.
"Where's your room?" asked West.
"Thirty-four Masters Hall," answered Joel March; for now that we have
twice been introduced to him there is no excuse for us to longer
ignore his name.
"Mine's in Hampton House," said West. "Number 2. I have it all to
myself. Who's in with you?"
"A fellow named Sproule."
"'Dickey' Sproule? He's an awful cad. Why didn't you get a room in the
village? You have lots more fun there; and you can get a better room
too; although some of the rooms in Warren are not half bad."
"They cost too much," replied March. "You see, father's not very well
off, and can't help me much. He pays my tuition, and I've enough money
of my own that I've earned working out to make up the rest. So, of
course, I've got to be careful."
"Well, you're a queer chap!" exclaimed West.
"Why?" asked Joel March.
"Oh, I don't know. Wanting to study, and earning your own schooling, and
that sort of thing."
"Oh, I suppose your father has plenty of money, hasn't he?"
"Gobs! I have twenty dollars a month allowance for pocket money."
"I wish I had," answered March.
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