Chapter 7

           TheharderTomtriedtofastenhismindonhisbook,themorehisideaswandered. Soatlast,withasighandayawn,hegaveitup. Itseemedtohimthatthenoonrecesswouldnevercome. Theairwasutterlydead. Therewasnotabreathstirring. Itwasthesleepiestofsleepydays. Thedrowsingmurmurofthefiveandtwentystudyingscholarssoothedthesoullikethespellthatisinthemurmurofbees. Awayoffintheflamingsunshine,CardiffHilllifteditssoftgreensidesthroughashimmeringveilofheat,tintedwiththepurpleofdistance; afewbirdsfloatedonlazywinghighintheair; nootherlivingthingwasvisiblebutsomecows,andtheywereasleep. Tom’sheartachedtobefree,orelsetohavesomethingofinteresttodotopassthedrearytime. Hishandwanderedintohispocketandhisfacelitupwithaglowofgratitudethatwasprayer,thoughhedidnotknowit. Thenfurtivelythepercussion-capboxcameout. Hereleasedthetickandputhimonthelongflatdesk. Thecreatureprobablyglowedwithagratitudethatamountedtoprayer,too,atthismoment,butitwaspremature: forwhenhestartedthankfullytotraveloff,Tomturnedhimasidewithapinandmadehimtakeanewdirection. 

           Tom’sbosomfriendsatnexthim,sufferingjustasTomhadbeen,andnowhewasdeeplyandgratefullyinterestedinthisentertainmentinaninstant. ThisbosomfriendwasJoeHarper. Thetwoboyswereswornfriendsalltheweek,andembattledenemiesonSaturdays. Joetookapinoutofhislapelandbegantoassistinexercisingtheprisoner. Thesportgrewininterestmomently. SoonTomsaidthattheywereinterferingwitheachother,andneithergettingthefullestbenefitofthetick. SoheputJoe’sslateonthedeskanddrewalinedownthemiddleofitfromtoptobottom. 

           "Now,"saidhe,"aslongasheisonyoursideyoucanstirhimupandI’lllethimalone; butifyoulethimgetawayandgetonmyside,you’retoleavehimaloneaslongasIcankeephimfromcrossingover." 

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