Tom Fairfield's Schooldays: or, The Chums of Elmwood Hall. Chapman Allen

doubtless be very glad to come in with you.”

      “I’m afraid not,” replied Tom with a smile. “He and I had a little difference of opinion just now, and – ”

      “Very well,” interrupted Mr. Blackford. “You needn’t explain. Suit yourself about the room. It is yours for the term.” He knew better than to enter into a talk about the disagreements of the students. There were other troubles to occupy him.

      Left to himself, Tom sat down and looked about the room that was to be his for the Freshman year. It had a good view of the campus and buildings, and he liked it very much.

      “Though I should be glad if I had a good chum to come in with me,” reflected the new student. “I may get in with somebody, though. It’s rather lonesome to have two beds in one room, but I can sleep half the night in one, and half the night in the other I suppose,” he ended, with a smile.

      Tom was unpacking his belongings from his valise when the expressman arrived with his trunk, and a little later the matron knocked at the door to ask if our hero found himself at home.

      “Yes, thank you,” replied Tom, accepting the clean towels she brought. He had begun to hang up his clothes.

      “I do hope you get a nice young man in with you,” suggested Mrs. Blackford. “One who won’t be cutting up, and doing all sorts of mischievous pranks.”

      Tom proceeded with getting his room to rights as she left him, and a little later, finding that it wanted an hour yet to twelve o’clock, our hero strolled out on the campus.

      He looked about for a sight of Sam Heller, or his crony, Johnson, who, it appeared later, had passed his examinations, and was a Sophomore, while Sam had to remain a Freshman, much to his disgust. But the two, whom Tom had come to feel were his enemies, were not in sight. Nor was Reddy Burke, and, though Tom strolled over past Elmwood Castle, he did not get a sight of Bruce Bennington.

      Tom strolled about until lunch, and the mid-day meal was not a very jolly affair. About twenty Freshmen, who had come a day before the term formally opened, were at the tables and they were all rather miserable, like fishes out of water, as Tom reflected. Still our hero talked with them, experiences were exchanged, and the ice was broken.

      “But I don’t exactly cotton to any of them enough to have one for a roommate,” reflected Tom.

      That afternoon, having formally registered, and being told about the hours for chapel, and his lecture and recitation periods, Tom wrote a long letter to his father and mother.

      He was coming back, from having posted it, when he noticed, standing on the steps of Opus Manor, a solitary figure.

      “I hope that isn’t Sam Heller, waiting to renew the quarrel with me,” reflected Tom, as he drew nearer. “Still, if it is, I’ll meet him half way, though I don’t want to get into a fight my first day here.”

      But he was soon made aware that it was not the bully who stood on the steps. It was a lad about his own age, a tall, straight youth, with a pleasant smiling face, and merry brown eyes. No, I am just a trifle wrong about that face. It was naturally a jolly one, but just now it bore a puzzled and unhappy look.

      “Hello,” said Tom pleasantly, as he mounted the steps, and was about to pass in.

      “Hello!” greeted the other. “Do you room here?”

      “Yes. This is my first day.”

      “Say, you’re in luck. It’s my first day too. I’m a stranger in a strange land, and I’m stuck.”

      “What’s the matter?” asked Tom.

      “Well, very foolishly, I delayed settling about my room until I got here. I thought there’d be plenty of places, and, when I did arrive I found that Opus Manor was the only desirable place for us Freshmen. Up I steps, as bold as brass, and asks for a room and bath. ‘Nothing doing,’ answers the worthy monitor, or words to that effect. Consequently, behold yours truly without a place to sleep, unless he goes into town to a common boarding house. And I did want to get in with the Freshmen! It’s tough luck!”

      Tom was doing some rapid thinking.

      “I don’t suppose you know of a good place in town; do you?” went on the other. “My name is Fitch – Jack Fitch. I’m from New York city.”

      “Mine’s Tom Fairfield, from Briartown,” said our hero.

      “Well, Tom Fairfield, have you been here long enough to recommend a place to room, where I can also get the eats; especially the eats, for I’m a good feeder. Know of a likely place?”

      Tom’s mind was made up.

      “Yes, there’s a place here,” he said.

      “Here? Are you stringing me? They told me every room was taken.”

      “So it is, but I have a large double one, and I was looking for a chum. So – ”

      “You don’t mean you’ll take me in?” cried Jack. “Oh, end the suspense! Fireman save my child! Don’t torture me!” and he gave a good imitation of a woe-begone actor.

      “I’ll be glad to have you,” said Tom, who had taken a sudden liking to Jack. “That is, if you’d really like to come. You might look at the room.”

      “Say no more! Come? Of course I’ll come! Will a duck swim? But I say, you know, you don’t know much about me.”

      “I’ll take a chance – if you will,” said Tom, laughing.

      “All right. Then we’ll call it square. Lead on and I’ll follow. To think that, after all, I’m going to get in Opus Manor! It’s great, Fairfield!”

      “Call me Tom, if you like.”

      “I like. I’m Jack to you, from now on. Shake!” and he caught Tom’s hand in a firm clasp. The two looked into each other’s eyes, and what they read satisfied them. They were chums from then on.

      “I’ll take you to my room —our room,” Tom corrected himself. “It’s a fine one!”

      “I’m sure it must be. But do you reckon the Lord and Lady of this castle will allow me to share it with you?”

      “Yes. In fact Mrs. Blackford spoke of me getting some one in with me. So that will be all right.”

      “Great! Do you mind if I do a little dance? Just a few steps to show my joy?” asked Jack, and Tom perceived at once that his new friend was a jolly lad.

      “Not at all,” Tom answered, and Jack gravely did a hop skip and jump on the top platform of the steps.

      As he finished there came a laugh from a couple of lads passing.

      “Look at the ballet lady!” mocked a voice, and Tom saw Sam Heller and Nick Johnson approaching.

      “Did you like it?” asked Jack, coolly. He was not to be easily disconcerted.

      “Oh, it was great!” declared Sam with a sneer. “We’ll have you in the Patchwork Club if you keep on.”

      There was no mistaking the sneering tone of his voice, and Jack flushed.

      “Friends of yours?” he asked Tom.

      “Just the reverse. But don’t bother with them now. We can attend to them later – if we have to.”

      “And I think I shall have to,” said Jack quietly, as he looked Sam full in the face. “I don’t mind fun, but I like it to come from my friends. Lead on, Tom, and, as you say, we’ll attend to those two later.”

      He followed Tom, and, as they disappeared into Opus Manor there floated to them the mocking laughs of the two cronies.

      CHAPTER VI

      AN ANGRY PROFESSOR

      “Tom, did you ever balance a water pitcher on your nose? I mean full of water. The pitcher full, that is to say, not the nose.”

      “Never, and I’m not going to begin now.”

      “Well,