And then the train came along and Dave had to bid his chum good-by.
The car was only half filled with people, so Dave had a double seat to himself. He placed his suit-case in the rack overhead and then sank down by the window, to gaze at the swiftly moving panorama and give himself up to thought.
"Hello, Dave!"
The youth looked up, to see, standing beside him, Nat Poole, the son of the money-lender of Crumville—a tall, awkward youth with a face that was inclined to scowl more than to smile. In the past Nat had played Dave many a mean trick, and had usually gotten the worst of it. Nat had been in the class with our hero, but had failed to pass for graduation, much to his chagrin.
"Hello, Nat!" cried Dave. He put as much warmth as possible in the salutation, for he felt sorry for the boy who had failed. "Bound for home?"
"Yes." The money-lender's son hesitated for a moment. "Want me to sit with you?"
"Certainly, if you like," and Dave shoved over to make room.
"Been visiting an old aunt of mine," explained Nat as he sat down. "Had a slow time of it, too, over the Fourth. Where have you been?"
Dave told him. "We had a dandy time, too," he added.
