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 his thoughts went forward to the piece of music on the piano rack, and his steps became swifter.

That ride to Danbury was long and wearisome to Tom. Waiting in the shadows of the station at Freeburg, after he had decided not to risk purchasing a ticket, but to pay his fare on the train, had been sort of exciting, and even after the station lights and the lights of the town itself had faded behind him a certain zest in the adventure had remained. But soon, what with the overheated car, the uncomfortable seat, the numerous stops and the dust that drifted in at every opening, the excitement dwindled fast. At the end of an hour he had begun to doubt the brilliancy of the exploit. For one thing, it was going to be extremely hard sledding to convince his guardian that he had taken the right course; the more so since Tom hadn't yet succeeded in convincing himself. Mr. Winslow, an estimable gentleman despite Tom's prejudices, was a lawyer, and, being a lawyer, his judgment was not easily swayed. You just had to have a good case, and Tom was horribly afraid he hadn't! Well, one thing was certain. If Old Winslow insisted on his returning to Wyndham he just wouldn't! No, sir, he'd run away first. Maybe he'd go to sea. No, he wouldn't, either. You couldn't play football at sea! But he'd go somewhere.

Then there was Clif. He had grown to be rather fond of Clif. Until six weeks ago he had never had a real chum. He had been friendly with lots of fellows,