"Well, Kemble and Bingham, it's contrary to rules to go off the grounds after six o'clock. You didn't, I presume, pick that peanut off any of the trees here."
"Oh, no, sir," answered Tom. "I rather think they grow on vines."
"Your knowledge of agriculture is impressive." Tom thought the instructor's features relaxed a trifle, but since they were in shadow he couldn't be certain. "You boys had better report to Mr. Frost in the morning," he went on. "Tell him Mr. Waltman sent you; and why."
"Yes, sir," said Tom politely. Then, as Mr. Waltman ascended the steps and disappeared inside the Hall, he added sadly: "Heck! This is a fine start, isn't it? Something tells me, Clif, that I'm not going to like this place!"
Clif went up to Number 34 with Tom and met the "snifty" roommate and liked him a lot. Billy Desmond was a large, good-hearted and generally smiling fellow of seventeen. Perhaps he was rather inclined just at first to use a patronizing tone with Tom and Clif, but he got over it before many days had passed and was voted a good scout by both of them. To-night he joked them a lot about their mishap and drew lugubrious pictures of the Assistant to the Principal, Mr. Frost, and described a variety of dire results any one of which might befall them. Even though he discounted Billy's predictions Tom was characteristically pessimistic and frequently reiterated his conviction that he wasn't going to be happy at Wyndham.
