"Tom,
do you suspect any one?"
"Only in a general way--Koswell, Flockley, Larkspur, and that crowd."
"It's too bad."
"Say, but that picture was a sight!" cried the fun-loving Rover, and
gunned broadly. "No wonder old Sharp was mad. I'd be mad myself,
especially if it was a photo of my best girl."
"I hope the doctor doesn't keep you in the room all day," said Sam.
"You and Dick might as well go to town without me," returned Tom with
a sigh that he endeavored to suppress. "Your staying here won't do me
any good."
"What will you do?"
"Oh, read or study. It will give me a chance to catch up in my Latin.
I was a bit rocky in that yesterday. I can bone away until the
president sends a special message for me."
"Want us to get anything for you?" questioned Dick.
"Yes, a good fat letter from--well, a fat letter, that's all."
"Postmarked Cedarville, and in Nellie Laning's handwriting," came from
Sam slyly.
"I didn't know they postmarked letters in handwriting," answered Tom
innocently.
"Oh, you know what I mean."
"Sure, Sam, for I know you're looking for a letter, too. Well, run
along, children, and play," said Tom, and a minute later Sam and Dick
set off for Ashton.
Tom did not feel as lighthearted as his words would seem to indicate.
He knew that the charge against him was a serious one, and he saw no
way of clearing himself. The finding of the box with his name on it
seemed to be proof positive against him.
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