CHAPTER VI
WATTLES
Clif was glad that the next day was Sunday.
He could lie abed a half-hour later, which was something to rejoice over, and, save for church at eleven o'clock, no duties claimed him until study hour at eight. He awoke before the rising bell and had a full ten minutes in which to stretch his lame muscles and accustom himself to the thought of getting up. The muscles were not as sore as he had expected they would be, and by the time he was ready for breakfast he felt quite fit. As though having atoned overnight for his talkativeness, Walter spoke but twice during dressing, and then only when spoken to.
In the afternoon Clif and Tom went to walk. They set out to find the golf links since, although the students were not allowed to play the game on Sunday, there were certain club members whose views were less strict than Doctor Wyndham's, and Tom had a mind to select a promising twosome and follow it around, his idea of spending a Sunday afternoon pleasantly being to derive entertainment from others at as slight a cost of physical or mental exertion to himself as possible. But his plan went agley since a full half-hour's search failed to discover the links. Billy Desmond had said
